#Skates & fists au

[aioliravioli-69]

This one was a long time coming (a.k.a. since I found out about 'Duolingo on ice') so I started looking into it and I found this!

This pose

This pose specifically was MADE for Buddy!!

I couldn't resist

Buddy being a dramatic bastard

[melancholitas]

A question keeping me up at night:

Is Ace able to ice skate?

Like. Not physically, I bet he'd be a rad hockey player or something.

But more at the lines of 'is he running so hot he'd trip over the puddles he creates around him'?

Does his devil fruit influence his surroundings? Him running around just barely clothed all the time could fanonly be a consequence of that. Sabo doesn't seem to have any problems layering his clothes, but maybe he's just that much of an unhinged mess (just like he should be).

It would be so funny to me, though, if this would spark yet another one-upping contest between these two. Sabo elegantly gliding on the ice, making fun of Ace trying not to break his neck because he's literally too hot for this.

Whereas Luffy just jumps and zooms all over the place as always.

[tojisun]

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au mlist) - smut; f!reader; short drabble only!

yea i bet youre all tired of hearing hockey come out of my mouth but thinking about—

hockey player simon receiving a text from you after a game.

they defeated their opponent in a shutout—price carrying the team on enemy ice, with garrick coming in with solid defences, allowing mactavish and simon to sink a shot after another.

it was an electrifying game; even now as he’s stuffed in his cubicle, simon feels like he’s on top of the world. like the cup is so close to his reach—just a few more rally and he’s bringing it home.

the locker room is buzzed, congratulations getting passed from one to another while their coach awards the disk to price for the shutout. the media is still taping this whole interaction so the team remains conscious, guarded, until, finally, everything is wrapped up.

the others clamber to the showers but simon digs for his phone, desperate to talk to you. to tell you that he’s won—he doesn’t know if you’ve watched the game, not with how packed your schedule’s gotten—so if you haven’t, he wishes to at least be the first to let you know.

he wants you to hear it from him; hear from him how they dominated tonight’s game.

(6-0 for the specgru. in the playoffs.)

but there’s already a message from you, sitting atop the strings of notification filling up his phone screen. he ignores the emails from brands reaching out for brand deals or fans sending in messages to his public socials, and taps on your name.

his eyes grow wide, his breath hitching, because—

> 2 goals tonight, baby. almost a hatty.

> have i told you how your hockey makes me hot? almost makes me want to fly there to give you a reward

the start of a whimper builds in the base of his throat, scratching at his trachea.

jesus.

the last time you’ve rewarded him for his performance—a hatty, one of which was an empty net goal—simon had to grit through the horror of seeing you have a difficulty in sitting down the next few days. until now, he swears that he tried holding back, to take it easy despite his needs, but then you crawled to his lap and sang praises in his ears, and simon was gone.

you were so needy for him. for his skate and his play and his victory. and how could simon control himself then?

so this—your messages that are lidded with a tease—is torture. the flight won’t even be until tomorrow morning so you’ve just left him extremely pent-up, buzzing, with his desires poorly-leashed.

all he could do is send a weak,

when i’m back, can you give it then? <

you’ve only liked his message as a reply and simon knows it for what it is—a deliberate hooking; filling him up with tension. with unbridled energy, all uncontainable, so he can fuck all of that into you.

shit. now he’s all hard underneath his cup.

the quick rub in the shower stalls was not enough so he races to their hotel, locking himself in his room and proceeds to fuck his fist as he swipes at the album he’s locked away in his gallery. it’s the gallery that only you and simon know about.

it’s full of pictures. of videos and audios.

it’s full of you fingering your sensitive pussy, and of simon finally getting his hands on your cunt and dragging you up to his mouth for a taste, and of simon fucking you at every surface—on the island, in the living room, against the window, in front of the mirror.

in some of them, he’s still wearing his jersey. in most of them, you’re the one who has it on.

simon cums once. then rubs another one before the flight because he makes the mistake of rereading your previous message. the release isn’t euphoric; sure, it’s enough to stop the fever, but it was almost too clinical.

you’re still in your gym clothes when simon’s clumsily making his way home. you shriek at the way he just covers you with his bulk, before giggling at the ticklish feeling of his scruff rubbing against your cheek.

“missed you,” he says.

you whine, nodding, before pushing him back just enough that you can finally jump into his arms. simon soaks up the attention, like it’s sticky liquorice, and the nuzzled kisses.

even the words pressed on his lips, he devours but there’s one thing simon needs more, and he’s almost shaking when you finally noticed.

you laugh, poking his cheek, before giving him what he wants.

“your hockey’s so hot, si,” you trill. “fuck me?”

“please,” simon croaks out because that is all he could truly say.

[azsazz]

Sprinkles of Luck & Doubt

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Do you think hockey!Azriel would sneak into the girls locker room/showers just to see figure skating reader? 👀

Warnings: Light sexual themes, angst

Word Count: 1752

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown Shots & Spins

_________________________________________

“What the—”

Your shriek is abruptly cut off when a palm lies flat across your mouth. Your heart hammers into your chest as you react, hands clamping down on the thick forearm that feels nothing like a woman’s, which is concerning considering you’re standing in the middle of the shower, soaking wet, in the women’s locker room.

“Easy, sweetheart,” a voice you know all too well purrs in your ear. You go lax against the body behind you, shutting your eyes and trying to regain some semblance of a normal heart rate when his hand slips away from your mouth. He plants it on your hip, and his touch alone only sets your heart into a stampede again.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper, mustering up the strength to scold Azriel when you turn to face him instead of sidling right up into his side and giving into every ounce of pleasure that him sneaking into the women’s showers with you brings.

“I needed to say goodbye to you before we leave for Briarwood,” he answers, and the way that he said he needs to say goodbye is not lost on you. It makes your stomach twist and your heart beat happily in your chest, your cunt perking up at the words.

“And that couldn’t have waited until I got out of the shower?”

His hazel eyes peruse your body in a slow trail, drinking you in like you’re his prey. His pupils dilate with arousal, and Azriel shifts on his feet as his cock begins to fill. If he doesn’t stop looking, he’s going to have the worst case of blue balls on the bus, and his teammates might not pick up on why he’s being so stiff since he’s normally a silent, brooding guy before big games, but he knows that Cassian and Rhys will clock him the second he steps foot onto the bus.

“Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you in my favorite outfit of yours,” he smirks, trailing the tips of his fingers up your sides. You shiver, near violently, clenching your thighs together when his thumbs brush over your nipples.

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensations zipping up your spine. You lean into Azriel, fingers fisting into his black t-shirt, uncaring that you’re getting his clothes all wet. He doesn’t care either, especially when he bends down into the onslaught of water to capture your lips against his own.

“You’re all wet,” you protest when you finally part, blushing red hot when he winks at you.

“Can’t be as wet as you, sweetheart,” Azriel jokes, but his cock is rock fucking hard. This was a terrible idea, in theory, to sneak into the women’s locker room and even more so to slip into the shower with you when he has only minutes before the bus leaves. But he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t not see you one more time before the tournament this weekend. He needed a kiss from his good luck charm. Needs much more than that, if he’s being honest with himself, but he doesn’t have the time.

“Ha ha,” you laugh drily, flicking water at him. “Just remember that while I’m here under the warm water with it’s perfect pressure,” you tease, fluttering your lashes at him when his eyes grow dark. To frustrate Azriel further, you slide your hands down your body, following the water cascading across your skin, right between your thighs. Azriel follows the movement with a wild look in his eyes that makes you want to back away, make you want him to chase you, touch you until you can’t stand, can’t see straight. The muscles of your legs twitch in agreement. “And you’re sitting on the bus with your hands in your lap, wishing you were between my legs instead of in your hand.”

Azriel growls softly and it goes straight to your core. It takes all your effort to turn away from him and plant yourself fully under the spray, slicking your hair back and shimmying your hips for affect.

“You are so getting punished when I get back, sweetheart.”

“What?” You whirl around, completely unprepared for him to be only inches away. You gasp and lose your footing, but Azriel’s already wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you into his body. His cock strains against his pants, and the jeans he’s wearing only increase the sensations of his body against yours, rubbing across your sensitive, flushed skin. “You’re the one that started this mess, I should be punishing you!”

His hazel eyes glow at the prospect, a challenge. He dips his chin, his words fanning across your lips as he speaks. “Do you want to punish me, sweetheart?”

No, you want to drop to the tiles and suck him down your throat, no matter how much your knee might protest. You want to see his cock, touch it, taste it, feel it, but you know he won’t let you. Not right now.

It’s going to be a long and lonely weekend without Azriel here. And now that you’ve seen his cock, had the immense pleasure of having it inside of you, you know that the sad vibrator in your bedside table back at the dorms will in no way compare to the man with his arms wrapped around you.

On the other hand, you could see yourself stripping him bare, climbing over his lap and teasing his cock with your soaked cunt in punishment for the teasing. With him gone all weekend, there will be ample time for thinking up ways to tease him until he’s begging for you. You think you’d like to see that, Azriel whimpering and pleading for you to ride his cock. It would be a nice change from you always being the one worked up until there are tears in your eyes.

“Earth to sweetheart,” Azriel’s gruff voice draws you back to the present. You didn’t even realize you were grinding up against him, your breaths sharp and quick until you remember where you are, who you’re with, and what you’re doing.

You blink, feeling your chest flush when you meet Azriel’s gaze. His eyes are heady with lust, mouth set in a firm line because he’s trying to hold back the grunts and groans that threaten to slip form his throat. He doesn’t want to get caught, no matter how much he likes how you’re dry humping him.

Maybe he can sneak you with. Surely, coach won’t notice an extra body on the bus. Of course, that’s a lie. Nothing gets passed him. But maybe Azriel can convince you to drive down, and he can sneak you into his room for a little pre-game good luck romp in his bed. Yes, that might work. If he can get Rhys and Cass to leave him alone in the room for more than thirty minutes.

“Sorry,” you respond softly, trying to pry yourself away from him. You’re embarrassed that you lost yourself in a daydream right in front of Azriel and wanted more, but his hands are gripping you tighter, squeezing you closely to his chest.

“Look at me,” Azriel demands when you refuse to meet his gaze. You’re hot with embarrassment, and the water pouring down your back isn’t helping. Your name is a soft-spoken warning on his tongue, like if you don’t look up, you’ll be the one that’s getting punished instead.

You can get on board with that, but realization strikes as loud as the giggling of girls on the other side of the curtain does. You’re in the women’s locker room with a boy who’s not supposed to be in here, and he’s supposed to be on a bus leaving for the beach town on the coast to defend their undefeated season against the Sparrows.

You peek up at Azriel, melting under his tender gaze. Your heart pounds hard in your chest, so much to the point that it hurts. How he’s so easily able to calm you, to make you feel better with a single glance, probably means that you’re in way too deep with him. You should’ve been more cautious.

“Don’t be sorry,” he continues, his thumb stroking a soothing pattern across your hip. It lights you on fire, that touch, leaves you craving more. Azriel’s grin is crooked. “I like it when you want me.”

“I want you all the time,” you breathe like some panting girl. Why can’t you stop admitting things like this around him? You’re going to scare him off.

His eyes glitter, and at least you can take relief in the fact that he wants you back, might just want you like you want him.

“I want you all of the time too,” he says against your mouth, because he’s barely grasping onto his self-control by a thread. He kissed you like you’re the missing piece of him, and you allow yourself to fall into it too, brushing your tongue against his. Everything goes out the window when he’s with you; schooling, hockey, everything. There’s a twist in his stomach at the thought of that, that he shouldn’t be putting all his eggs in one basket with you, shouldn’t be letting you distract him like this when there’s so much pressure on his shoulders this year…

You feel it in the way his body locks. It’s quick, but it’s there, and the clapping of flip-flops on the wet tile stomping into the shower beside yours is the perfect excuse for him to pull away.

You don’t know why, but the way he avoids your gaze has you shrinking back under the spray and covering your body with your hands. You don’t know what just happened, to make Azriel go from doting and attentive to closed off and dare you say shy within a nanosecond. It couldn’t have been your admission, because he responded just the same.

You don’t get the chance to find out because he’s peering at you from under his thick, dark lashes, offering you a soft, sad smile, and parting with a quiet goodbye that feels more like a breakup than a see you next week.

“I’ll be seeing you, sweetheart…” He trails off, and it feels like a lie, even more so when he slips past the curtain of your shower without a look back.

It’s funny, that you can trick yourself into thinking you’re not crying when your tears mix with the water from the shower head that’s long gone cold.

_________________________________________

Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13

[ellecdc]

Baby…my love…my obsession. While you’re working hockey!marauders I would die for enforcer!sirius black. Even just a little blurb 😌😌😌

I will never say no to a hockey au, I won't lie.

hockey player!Sirius Black x team medic!reader who is not at all pleased with Sirius' theatrics /sarcasm [859 words]

CW: gn!reader, hockey fight, swearing, blood, flirting/banter

Sirius was on his feet before Krum even hit the ice, and he was shouting (and cursing) by the time Krum looked towards the referee as if saying ‘did you not see that?’ as he fixed his goalie mask and reached for the stick that was knocked clean out of his hands.

“Fucking interference! That was interference!” 

“I know Black, I saw it too.” Coach grumbled from behind him; sounding far calmer than his most violent defenceman though he was staring daggers at the linesman currently skating away from his goalie that was just slammed into in his own crease. 

“Let me out.” Sirius barked as he kept his eye on the player - number seven - who dared to touch his goalie. “Come on! Let me out!” 

“Wait your turn, Black.” Coach barked back as the play continued. 

Fenwick raised his glove requesting to switch as Dearborn followed him toward the bench. 

“Alright, Black & Potter, you’re on.”

Sirius had hardly waited for Fenwick to make it to the bench before he was clearing the boards, hearing James’ skates seconds behind him as they moved towards the play.

Sirius hardly spared the puck a second glance as he made it to the other end of the rink, dropped his gloves and launched himself at the fucker who had checked his goalie moments before. 

He had the bastard's jersey tight in his fist as he swung his other into the side of his face. He’d landed one good punch before the Slytherin player clued into what was happening and then it was fair game. 

Sirius could hear the whistle of the referees as other players paired off with one another to keep them from joining the tussle. It was a riot of noise from the crowd as bells and horns sounded and fans banged on the glass lining the boards as Sirius and his opponent focused both on staying upright in their skates and knocking the other over simultaneously. 

Sirius’ helmet fell off with an elbow to his mouth that left his eyes watering, but he quickly had number seven in a headlock as the player fell back, Sirius landing on top of him and landing one more hit before the refs were pulling them off of each other. 

Sirius got two minutes for roughing, but so did number seven, so he felt it was rather worth it as he used one of the gatorade branded towels to clean the blood from his lips in the penalty box. 

His fight seemed to inspire a goal from his team, so he then felt it was very much worth it when the two minutes were up and he left the box to go back to the bench.

“Did ya like my fight, doc?” He asked you breathlessly as if he hadn’t just been sitting in a glorified time-out for the last 120 seconds; his wide, beaming smile only serving to further split his lip as his teeth started to taste like iron.

“For fucks sake, Black.” You muttered as you pulled out an alcohol wipe and dabbed at the cut on his lip; Sirius couldn’t even find it in him to wince at the sting of the alcohol when you were cradling his jaw with your free hand as though you were handling a baby bird; gentle, tentative, loving.

Maybe he was making that last one up, but he felt emboldened by the ghost of a smirk gracing your lips. 

“Always making more work for you, eh doc?” Remus teased from behind you; you rolled your eyes but didn’t bother gracing Remus with an answer as you leaned behind you to grab something.

“Maybe I just wanted you to kiss it better, yeah?” He asked when you turned back towards him. You seemed startled at first; not in a negative way, but rather like you hadn’t expected Sirius Black to be loudly and brazenly flirting with you. You schooled your expression quickly, however, when you narrowed your eyes at him playfully and slapped an ice pack in his glove-free hand.

“Ice it, Black.” You ordered.

“Good idea, gorgeous.” Sirius agreed as he did what was told, turning back towards the game. “Wanna make sure my lips are perfect for our first kiss.”

“Wait, don’t ice it! Some people pay big money for lips like that, Black!” Wood called from further down the bench. 

Sirius pretended to consider it as he squinted his eyes at you, watching as you worked particularly hard to not return his gaze. “No, no. If I ice it now, I’ll be in tip top shape for kissing after the game.” 

“You’re unbelievable.” You muttered as you watched Caradoc nearly toss a Slytherin player onto the Gryffindor bench, your tongue in your cheek as you tried not to smile at Sirius. 

“Thank you!” He accepted readily as the whistle blew - the lines were about to change.

“Try not to get into any more scraps, yeah?” You called to Sirius as he dropped the ice pack into your awaiting hand and lunged over the bench.

“For you, doc?” Sirius volleyed with a cheeky smirk as he skated backwards toward the face off. “Anything.”

[palajae]

you and me.

PAIRING... skater!niki x skater!reader | GENRE… figure skating! au, romance, angst, fluff, unconditional love.? | WC... 0.4k | “can we please go back to how we were?”

you cut straight to the point. there was no hesitation and second guessing with niki, there never was. you sit on the bench with your skates still on, an awkward distance away from niki.

“i saw online. why did you say that you wish you were skating partners with haerin instead?” 

you had never once felt threatened by haerin. she was a nice, gorgeous, talented skater with her own partner. but to hear your own partner, the one you built years of trust and connection with, supposedly throw it all away was heartbreaking. 

“what? it wasn’t like that. i just said it in a moment of frustration. plus, she just wanted some reassurance. that’s all. you know i could never leave you-“

“could or would?” you cut him off sharply. “because it seems like you’re willing to throw this all away.”

your red hands clench into fists. 

you can feel him getting defensive, the furrow between his eyebrows prominent. 

“y/n, what are you saying? there’s no need to get mad, everyone knows how close we are but i guess she didn’t. i promise i just said it to make my girlfriend feel better.” 

he only ever made that face when he was focusing on catching you safely, making sure you weren’t hurt. 

“so you’re letting her get in between our relation-our partnership? our careers?”

this time you’re looking straight at him, searching for any signs of what he was thinking. 

he pauses, taking a moment to recollect his thoughts before he said something too emotional, too harsh. 

“what happened to keeping our personal and professional lives separate?”

you narrow your eyes at him, “shouldn’t i be asking you that?”

niki exhales, scooting closer.

“okay. you’re right. i’m sorry. it won’t happen again. you’re the only one for me. can we please get back on track and focus? can we please go back to how we were?”

you sigh, “it’s not that easy, niki. you have a girlfriend now and obviously, it’s clear she isn’t happy with how we were before.” 

whatever “we were before” meant.

he rubs a hand over his face. 

“fine. but at least let me ask you this. why do you care so much? you never did in the past with the other girls i dated. you’ve been acting so strange after i started seeing haerin-i thought we wouldn’t let these kinds of things get in between us…” 

you don’t say anything, so he continues, 

“it’s not like we were dating, we probably won’t ever.”

out of all the times you and niki had both said that—to your fans, to your friends, to your family—

this one hurt the most. 

because he was right. and it felt so wrong. 

so you take your chance to leave before it showed. but it didn’t matter, because he knew. he always did.

a/n ▸ mwuaha is it gonna be a happy or sad ending (or both)?

part 3/4 | previous. | next.

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[lushrue]

hockeyteam!141 headcanons

wanted to write more for this au but i don't have enough creative juices for a part 2 yet, so have some hcs about the 141 + some reader backstory! 💖

price (#35)

has been playing since he was a kid, found something he was good at and stuck to it

skate guards, stick tape, mouthguard, everything is blue because that’s his favorite color

gets really concerned when any one of his guys goes down on the ice, he’s usually right there beside the team medic until they shoo him away

is the first one back in the locker room after a game to greet the others with a fist bump or a high five for a job well done

(ghost thinks it’s corny, but he always asks for a fist bump after a particularly tough match)

ghost (#42)

picked up the sport as an escape from family life, it was an outlet to let out his rage and he took it

carries around a communal bottle of peroxide for washing jerseys

sometimes, the other guys on the team will give him their bloody gear cause no one can get the stains out as good as he can

technically, gaz gave him his nickname first (“you’re like a bloody spectre out there, mate”) but soap was the one that made sure it stuck

is definitely the guy on the team that yells at everyone else when they aren’t paying attention to price

has gotten called the captain’s pet more than once for it, too

really likes the flavor of red gatorade, but he doesn’t like how it stains his teeth

soap (#07)

started playing when he got kicked off of his youth football/soccer team for being too aggressive, parents picked a more physical sport for him

definitely chews on his mouthguard when the game is getting close, will chew on it regardless if he’s been on the bench for too long

gets really annoyed with how sweaty the mohawk gets under his helmet and has fully considered buzzing his whole head multiple times

chirps both on and off the ice, started an all-out brawl by calling another player a “sack of yankee-dankee-doodle gobshite” once (yes, he got it from gordon ramsay)

once he puts those pads on, he will do anything and everything price tells him to do

refill his water bottle? done. grab the whiteboard so he can sketch something out? it’s already in his hand.

speaking of sketching, johnny really likes to draw and has drawn everyone on the team at one point or another

gaz (#74)

definitely was one of those kids that played every sport they could

this man was in hockey, rugby, football, anything that would let him sign up and give him a position to play

price handpicked him for the minor league team after seeing him play in a local match (still had to run it by the head coach, laswell, though)

dances in his seat on the bench in between plays and has definitely bribed the announcer to play some of his favorite songs during the intermissions

is relatively quiet on and off the ice until he sees something he doesn’t like

once, someone landed a pretty nasty hit on price and kyle got himself ejected from the game fighting with the ref over the lack of penalty

bonus reader hcs!

i want to leave most of the physical characteristics vague (gender, hair color, etc.) but i have some backstory for the reader in this au!

decided they want to be a figure skater after watching the olympics with their parents as a kid

they started classes as young as an instructor would take them, and before that, they made their mom take them to the ice rink every day after school

always refuse to compete with a partner because they got burned by an almost-dating situation when they were in high school

as much as their coach keeps trying to get them to do upbeat routines to rock/pop music, they’ve always preferred the more flowy routines to instrumentals

despite that, they always warm up to divorced dad rock

gonna write a pt 2 for the story soon, so stay tuned!

[beanieable]

Adding something to my ice skating AU.

I said Casey didn’t know Raph and Donnie were brothers. Here’s how he found out.

On the bleachers(?) in the ice rink:

Casey: He’s really cute! Why is he so cute?!

Teammate: Who is?

Casey: Donnie!

Teammate: The figure skater? Didn’t you have a crush on his skate partner?

Casey: Yeah- but he’s so much hotter. His face, his body, especially his ass-

*loud crack*

*everyone turns to Raph*

Casey: You okay, dude?

Raph: Donnie, as in Donatello? *he sounds angry*

Casey: What’s it to you?

Raph: *holding his now broken hockey stick at Casey’s face* Talk about him like that again and my fist meets your face.

Casey: Dude what’s wrong with you?!

Raph: Don’t talk like that about my little brother.

*as if on cue, Donnie walks in*

Donnie: Raph! You coming? Mom‘s here to pick us up.

Raph: Coming, Dee. *shots Casey a dirty look before he leaves*

Casey: I’m so dead.

Teammates: Good luck, man.

Or something like that. I like to think not many people put two and two together and know the four brothers are actually brothers, let alone quadruplets. Also, Tang Shen is their mom and alive. Having a second child after Miwa/Karai kind id escalated.

[shokosmokes]

﹒◌﹒hockey au﹒✧﹒

m.list

pt.5 ^_−☆ this bit is angsty aahh but i was curling my toes writing it so i hope you like it hehe

———————————————————————————————————

tags: angst, smut

itadori x reader x fushiguro

You and Yuji had become inseparable over the past few weeks, to the point where it felt natural to text him the second you woke up or crash at his place after a long day. His laugh was infectious, always booming and bright, filling up the space around you until you forgot about everything else. He’d wrap you up in hugs that felt too brief, make silly faces just to get you to laugh, and constantly challenge you to little play fights that left you breathless and laughing on the floor.

There were moments, though—small, fleeting ones—when your cheeks would flush pink, and you'd wonder if Yuji ever noticed. If he could feel the way your heart raced when he pulled you close for one of those playful wrestling matches, or when he hugged you goodbye, holding you just a second longer than necessary. The hope for something more was always there, tucked away in the back of your mind. But you never pushed it. Being with him, just having him near, felt like enough… most of the time.

Still, the ache of Megumi’s absence never fully left you. Even when you were with Yuji, laughing so hard your stomach hurt, that hollow space where Megumi used to be would creep in and gnaw at you. It was like a shadow you couldn’t shake, lingering no matter how hard you tried to bury it.

---

The night before the big game, you stood in front of your mirror, turning to look at the jersey you had on. The name "Itadori" was emblazoned on the back in bold letters, Yuji’s number beneath it. It felt a little silly, but when Yuji had casually mentioned how much it would mean to him if you wore it, you couldn’t say no. His excitement had been contagious, and now, looking at yourself, you smiled. It wasn’t just for him—it made you feel like you were a part of something bigger.

But when you got to the arena and saw Megumi on the ice, something felt off immediately. He was moving differently, more aggressively, his face hard and his temper visibly fraying with each shift in the game. He kept barking orders at his teammates, his frustration bleeding into every movement. The opposing team was playing dirty, their team constantly fumbling the puck, and Megumi was getting angrier by the second. He wouldn’t even look your way, not once, though you were sure he knew you were there.

Your eyes drifted between Yuji and Megumi, the gnawing feeling in your stomach worsening as the game dragged on. Every time Megumi shoved another player, yelled something sharp to his teammates, or nearly got into it with the opposing team, you felt a pang of worry. This wasn’t like him.

And then, in the middle of a tense standoff, Megumi finally let his gaze flick toward you. Your eyes locked for the briefest of moments—and then he saw it. The jersey. Yuji’s jersey.

Something in his face twisted, anger flashing so suddenly that it took your breath away.

In the next moment, Megumi snapped.

---

Fights breaking out on the ice at hockey games isn’t abnormal. But when it’s two players on the same team, two that are notoriously known as best friends, you can’t help the nauseous twist in your stomach at the sight of Megumi’s fist meeting Yuji’s jaw.

It all happened so fast. One second, Yuji and Megumi were skating side by side, and the next, Megumi lunged at him, fists flying. Yuji barely had time to defend himself before they were on the ice, wrestling in a brutal fight. It wasn’t just rough hockey. It was ugly. Megumi was furious, practically seeing red as he landed punches, Yuji trying to push him off but refusing to retaliate with the same intensity.

The arena erupted into chaos. Whistles were blowing, the crowd gasping, and the other players rushing in to pull them apart. But the damage was done. Megumi had snapped, and everyone saw it.

By the time the refs managed to bench him, Megumi stormed off the ice, disappearing into the locker room without a second glance back. Yuji was still on the ice, shaking his head in disbelief, bruised but mostly fine. You didn’t know what to do—your heart was torn in too many directions at once. You wanted to check on Yuji, but Megumi…

Without thinking, you found yourself following Megumi.

---

The locker room was eerily quiet when you walked in, the only sound being Megumi’s labored breathing as he sat hunched on the bench, blood dripping from his nose. His knuckles were bruised, and his eyes were dark, almost wild.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and concern. “You attacked Yuji. Your best friend!”

He didn’t look at you, just wiped at his bloody nose, his jaw clenched tight. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand what? You’ve been ghosting me for weeks, and now this? You’re acting like I don’t even exist anymore!” Your voice cracked, frustration boiling over. “And then you hurt Yuji? For what?”

His head snapped up at that, finally meeting your eyes. His gaze was blazing, raw with something you couldn’t quite place. “For what?” he echoed, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you even see yourself? Walking in here wearing his name on your back like it’s nothing?”

You blinked, taken aback. “Megumi, it’s just a jersey—”

“No, it’s not,” he growled, standing abruptly. He stepped closer, his hands gripping the fabric of the jersey at your shoulders, twisting it in his fists. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me? Watching you two, seeing how happy you are with him?”

Your heart raced, confusion and hurt flooding your chest. “I—what are you talking about?”

Megumi’s voice broke, his breath shaky as he tightened his hold on the jersey, pulling you closer. “I’m in love with you, okay? I thought I could bite it down, push it away, seeing how close you and Yuji have gotten. But I can’t anymore.”

His confession hit you like a tidal wave. Before you could process it, before you could say anything, Megumi’s hands cupped your face roughly, his thumb brushing your cheek as his eyes searched yours.

Then, without warning, he kissed you.

It was fierce, filled with all the pent-up emotions he had been holding back, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your heart pounded in your chest as you melted into it, his lips pressing hard against yours. All the confusion, the hurt, the longing—it all faded, leaving only the heat of the moment.

Megumi pulled back, his breathing heavy, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Without thinking, without a single word, you grabbed the collar of Megumi’s jersey and yanked him down to you, crashing your lips against his. It was desperate, full of all the longing and frustration that had been building for so long. Your hands slid into his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands, and you kissed him deeper, your tongue running along his bottom lip, silently asking for more.

Megumi groaned softly, his hands quickly finding their way under your thighs. In one swift motion, he lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he held you against him. His grip was firm, almost possessive, and your breath hitched as he backed you into the wall, pressing you there with his body.

The kiss intensified, growing hotter, more urgent. His lips moved with your in perfect rhythm, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that sent sparks flying through you. The roughness of his movements, the heat between you - it was overwhelming. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him even closer as his hands gripped the flesh of your thighs tighter, holding you up as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

Every inch of you was burning, the weight of him pressed you, the feel of his lips devouring yours - it was everything you hadn’t known you were aching for. His breath hot against your skin as he kissed down your jawline, nipping lightly at your neck, and you let out a soft gasp, your hands trailing down his shoulders gripping him tightly.

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” He murmurs against your neck.

An ache in the pit of your stomach that you didn’t realize was gnawing at you this entire time, twisting at his words. The feeling almost overwhelming to the point where you can only let out a gasp of his name.

“God, Megumi…”

He rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily as he tries to recover and pull himself together after the intense kiss. His lips brush against yours every few seconds, like he’s struggling to keep away from you.

"Every single time... I saw you there... I wanted you so bad... but every damn time Yuji was around, and I lost my courage..."

Stunned from the whirlwind of emotions, the suddenness of it all, the pang of guilt erupting in your chest mixed with the longing ache to kiss him again leaving you dumbfounded and speechless, spiraling in thought.

But you’re abruptly broken out of your spiral as you feel his breath, hot against your neck suddenly, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin making you yelp his name.

“God I want you…” he murmurs against your skin, the growl of his voice sending electricity down your spine, straight to your core, and a moan past your lips. The sound of it causing his grip on your thighs to tighten, his hips mindlessly buck against yours as he continues to suck at the oh so sensitive skin of your neck.

“Shhh”, he coos, as his tongue laps over the fresh marks across your skin, only causing more noises to escape your lips.

He shoves his two digits into your mouth to stifle the sounds escaping your lips. Your mind blanking, going hazy with desire. The tuft of his hair tickles your skin as he peers his head up to meet his eyes with yours. You watch his eyes glaze over with lust, his mouth agap, almost mesmerized as he watches you roll your tongue around his fingers and suckle on them.

“Fuck you like that don’t you…” he eyes your mouth, panting like a dog as his hips grow more eager.

He slowly pulls his wet fingers from your mouth, using them to trace your bottom lip before slipping it back into his own mouth to suck off your taste. "Then... maybe I should give you something else to suck on..." He murmurs, his hands softly dropping you to move his hands to his belt. "Open..."

You’re stunned. Megumi’s freaky…

“Wait!”, you grab at his arm to halt his hands that are seconds away from dropping his pants. Your eyes widen at the scene. “Here? Right… now?”

“What? You worried your little *boyfriend* is gonna catch you sucking me off?” He scoffs, playing with the hem of your jersey that brands the other boy’s name.

“I’m not his...”

“Then who’s are you” he cuts you off, almost snarling. You can see his jaw tense as he eyes you waiting for an answer, his thumb longingly tracing the skin of your cheek bone, and it’s faint but you can just barely register the hurt in his eyes.

Megumi’s grip on the jersey tightens, his fingers curling around the fabric like he’s trying to hold onto something that’s slipping through his fingers. His breathing is ragged, and his usually calm, collected demeanor has completely unraveled. His words echo in your ears—“Who’s are you?”—and you feel a surge of panic rise in your chest.

You’ve never seen Megumi like this—his face twisted in frustration, his body trembling slightly with anger and something deeper, something more desperate. It’s overwhelming, the intensity of his feelings crashing into you all at once, and you’re not ready for it. You weren’t prepared to be confronted, not like this.

“I—I don’t know,” you stammer, the words barely escaping your lips as your thoughts race. Your heart is pounding, and your palms feel clammy as the weight of his question presses down on you. How can he ask you this now? After everything that’s been building between the three of you, after weeks of subtle glances, quiet moments, and confusing feelings, how are you supposed to have an answer?

Megumi’s eyes bore into yours, searching for something—an answer, a sign, anything to ease the turmoil inside him. But you can’t give him that. Not now. Not like this.

“I’m so confused, Megumi,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the pressure. “I care about you. And I care about Yuji. But I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do.”

His jaw tightens, and you see a flash of hurt in his eyes, quickly replaced by anger. He releases the jersey, his hands falling to his sides, clenched into fists. The air between you feels thick, charged with tension, and you can feel the weight of his disappointment, of his frustration.

“You don’t know what to say?” he snaps, his voice sharp and cutting. “How can you not know? After everything we’ve been through, after all this time… you don’t know?”

You flinch at his words, guilt twisting in your gut. You do care about him. You do. But how can you explain that your feelings are tangled, that you’re caught between him and Yuji, between two people who mean so much to you in different ways?

“I—I didn’t ask for this,” you say, your voice shaky. “I didn’t ask to be put in the middle of this. I care about both of you. I don’t know how to choose.”

Megumi’s eyes narrow, and you can see the muscles in his jaw working, his frustration mounting with every word you say. His hands move to his sides, fingers digging into the skin of his palms as if he’s trying to hold himself back, to contain the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

“You think I don’t know that?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I wanted to fall for you when I knew damn well Itadori felt the same way? But I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand seeing you with him, laughing, smiling like he’s the only one who makes you feel like that.”

His voice rises, and the raw emotion in it is enough to make your heart ache. He’s always been so controlled, so guarded, but now all that control is gone, and it’s like you’re seeing the real Megumi for the first time—the one who’s been hiding behind his stoic exterior, afraid to let his feelings show.

“You’re all I think about,” he admits, his voice hoarse. “Every time I see you with Yuji, it tears me apart. I thought I could just… bite it down. That I could let you be happy with him, but…” His voice cracks, and he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.”

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to ease the tension, but the words won’t come. Your heart feels like it’s being squeezed in a vice, torn between Megumi’s raw confession and the lingering memories of Yuji’s warmth and laughter. How can you choose? How can you hurt one of them when you know you’ll hurt yourself just as much?

Megumi steps closer again, his eyes dark and stormy, his voice tight with emotion. “If you’re so confused, let me make it easy for you,” he says, his tone biting, anger laced through his words. Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and yanks his gear from his locker, his movements sharp and aggressive. He slams the door shut with such force that the sound echoes through the empty room, making you jump.

The sight of him unraveling like this makes your stomach churn with anxiety. This isn’t the calm, composed Megumi you’re used to. He’s raw and exposed, and it’s because of you. Because he’s in love with you. Because you couldn’t give him the answer he needed.

You stand there, frozen, as he shoves his equipment into his bag, the fury in his movements growing with every second. His breaths come in harsh, shallow bursts, his jaw clenched so tightly you can see the muscles twitch beneath his skin. The pain in his eyes as he looks at you one last time is almost unbearable.

“This isn’t fair,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “You’re asking me to choose, but it’s not that simple, Megumi. You can’t just—”

“Fair?” he cuts you off, his voice a harsh snarl. “You think this is about fairness? I don’t care about what’s fair anymore.” He slings his bag over his shoulder, his eyes burning into yours. “I’ve been holding back for you, for him, for everyone. But if you can’t figure out what you want, then I’m done. I can’t stand here and watch you be with him.”

He turns and starts toward the door, and panic rises in your chest. You feel the urge to stop him, to reach out, to say something, but the words won’t come. All you can do is watch as he pulls open the door, his back rigid with anger and frustration, and steps into the hallway without another word.

The door slams shut behind him, the echo ringing in your ears as you stand there, alone in the aftermath of his storm, your heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

—————————————————

sorry this update took so long i was pacing debating if i should wrap it up here or try and push it further but ending it here seemed so lazy lolol and i had an itch for angst so （＾ω＾）thanks 4 the read hope u liked it

[nerdraging4point0]

Power Play // Chapter 10 // Hockeyplayer!Noah AU

Header by @ladyveronikawrites

Tropes and tags: RPF:AU hockey player romance, angsty romance, hidden relationship, forbidden relationship, smutty, MF, multiple POV. Content Warning: angsty romance, hockey player shenanigans, locker room talk, smutty, aggressive hockey players, PinV, MF relationship, possessive male, protective male.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

The gloves are off.

With a frustrated roar, I tear off all my protective gear flinging it across the ice, the clatter of plastic and leather echoing through the stadium as my helmet slams down, sending shards of ice flying in all directions. Chest heaving, I square up against the taller defenseman, my nose nearly grazing the other man's chin as my eyes glare upwards. 

The defenseman's face is flushed, his stringy hair matted with sweat that was rapidly freezing in the frigid air. Shoving with the full force of my palms, I refused to be intimidated by the size difference, adrenaline coursing through my veins I shoved again. His papa make contact with my chest sending me backwards and I'm forced to brace myself to keep from toppling over,  refusing to back down.

Rage coursed through my veins as I skated furiously towards the other player, my voice erupting in a guttural yell. "You wanna fucking put hands on me, bitch?!" 

I had seen him deliberately slap the puck directly at my face as I was guarding the goal, and the sheer maliciousness of the action had ignited a fire within me. That blatant cheap shot was clearly no accident - he was looking for a fight, and I was more than willing to oblige. In that moment, all I could think about was retaliating, of taking my stick and using it to break his face open. The opportunity presented itself when he checked me hard into the boards, causing me to lose my grip on my stick. 

Now my hands grasp at fistfuls of his jersey as I yank him down to face level. My balled fist then comes into forceful contact with his cheek as he turns his head. 

I continue to throw punches until he reaches up, his hand making contact on my skull just behind my ear.  The impact sends  ringing in my ears and makes me slightly dizzy. But I refused to let up, my grip on his jersey tightening as we both tumbled down to the ice in a tangled mess of limbs, each of us desperately trying to land more blows on the other.

Bodies are swarming all around me and a pair of arms roughly pulling me back from my intended target. The impact of the strike on my left cheek burns with a sharp, stinging sensation, and I can taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Just moments ago, the only sound I could hear was the thunderous rush of blood pounding in my ears, but now the air is filled with the frantic screaming of the crowd and the shouts of the referees, who are desperately trying to restore order by calling out penalty times and names, urging everyone to settle down.

My opponent is in no better shape, sporting a nasty gash across the bridge of his nose, his teeth stained crimson with his own blood. One of his eyes is already beginning to swell shut from the impact of the blows. I can feel the throbbing ache in my own head and neck, the burning in my cheek now mingling with a strange, numb sensation as the adrenaline begins to wear off.

The refs roughly shove me onto the hard bench, treating me like a wayward child being sent to the corner. Indignation flares within, a desperate urge to lash out by untying my skates and hurling them at the cold, unyielding plexiglass walls. But in the end, all I can muster is a resigned lean forward, elbows propped on my knees as I stew in the searing frustration of my captivity.

Leo McGuire and his clean cut boy look steps into the box, a medical bag slung over his shoulder.  Last week, he had been a constant chatterbox, his nervous prattle grating on my nerves, but now that he has grown accustomed to this routine, his demeanor has shifted. No longer does he sound like an idiot fumbling through his words - instead, his tone is calm and measured as he approaches me, attempting to get a closer look. 

"Alright, Sebastian, let me have a look." But I refuse to submit, wriggling out of his grasp, unwilling to relinquish even the smallest shred of control. The walls feel like they are closing in, the air thick with tension as I steel myself against the indignity of my situation, desperate to maintain what little autonomy I have left.

I can feel the intense longing and determination coursing through me as I utter those three simple words to him - "I want her." 

I know she has engineered this entire situation, this calculated plan to have him take over my care during the games rather than her directly handing me off to various partners. The reasoning is obvious - to avoid raising suspicion about the true nature of our arrangement. But at this moment, I couldn't care less about the intricate web she has woven. All that matters is getting what I want, reclaiming my fox and taking her for myself, right here and now.

He shrugs, unwilling to argue or stand in my way. I watch as he waves her over. She rolls her eyes, a familiar gesture that only heightens my craving, as her ponytail swings rhythmically back and forth with each step she takes towards us. As she steps into the small box she and McGuirre exchanging hushed whispers as he gathers his belongings and departs, leaving the medical supplies behind. Without hesitation, she kneels down and begins rummaging through the box, retrieving gauze, tape, saline, and antibacterial gel. My gaze is transfixed, drinking in every detail of her movements, her expression. Do I really look that bad? No matter - her attention is all that matters.

She begins to gently clean the cut on my left cheek, standing off to the side, carefully positioned so as not to obstruct my view of the ongoing hockey game. It's a considerate gesture, but it's a little late for that - my focus has already been shattered by the intensity of her presence. I glance up at her, and I can't help but notice the lines forming between her furrowed brows as she knits them together in concentration. Her cheek is slightly sucked in as she chews on it, a telltale sign of her focus, as she dabs carefully at the wound on my face. 

Suddenly, she lets out a soft sigh, and I sense a shift in her demeanor. "We can't do this," she murmurs in a low voice, her lips barely moving. "I can't treat you and be sleeping with you. It's unethical." 

I can't help but feel a twinge of frustration at her words. "So you send the newbie to tend to me then. I knew it," I retort, my words harsher than I intended them to be, my blood still boiling from the intensity of the game. 

She responds matter-of-factly, "It's not like I needed to discuss it with you." I can't help but feel a sense of indignation creep in.

 "Didn't have the decency to tell me to my face," I fire back. 

"I didn't think it mattered," she says, her tone even. 

I pause for a moment, letting her words sink in. 

"You're right. It doesn't. This," I say, gesturing to the game unfolding on the ice, "this matters. The cup matters. And I'll be damned if some woman is gonna get in my way and mess me up." As I stand up on my skates, towering over her, I can see the glassy, trembling look in her eyes - and my own chest feels like its been cracked in half. I let out a heavy sigh and slump back down onto the bench, muttering an apology that I'm not even sure she hears over the din of the crowd.

However, the others - Jack and Leo- had clearly picked up on the tension. Immediately heading over and stepping into the box with us.

With a protective edge to his voice, Jack gently asked, "You good, Sarah?" 

Sarah's response was clipped, her tone betraying the strain of the situation. "Fine," she said tersely, before continuing, "Listen, could you take over for me? I think Sebastian just needs to cool down, and obviously I am not making that any easier right now." The way she emphasized my last name, almost spitting it out, struck a chord within me, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as she gathered her belongings and pushed past Jack and Leo, putting as much distance between herself and me as possible. 

As I slap my hands against my face, ignoring the sting of pain, I feel the tangled mess of my hair slip through my fingers. It wasn't her fault, none of this was - I was the one who had been so foolish, so reckless in my actions. Yelling at her, when all I really wanted to do was run after her and beg for her forgiveness. I had been so stupid to think this could ever be just a casual thing, a fleeting moment between us. Not after today, not after what had happened. 

I could have played it safe, stayed cool and detached, never letting myself think about her during the game. It wasn't the puck to the face that had gotten to me - I could handle that kind of physical pain any day. No, it was what had happened before the game, when the players were circling the ice during warm-ups. I'd been on the bench, retightening my skates, when I saw him skate by, whistling and leering in her direction as she inventoried her equipment. 

At that moment, I saw red. She was mine, and no one was going to disrespect her like that, not on my watch. The puck to the face had been my opportunity, my open door to beat the living daylights out of him. All because I had been foolish enough to let my heart get involved, to catch feelings for someone I could never truly have. Now I was left to face the consequences of my actions, my emotions having gotten the better of me in the heat of the moment. I had to find a way to make this right, to apologize and beg for her forgiveness, even if I knew in my heart that I could never truly be with her.

After the game, I couldn't even speak let alone look at my teammates. The throbbing in my head and ache in all of my muscles is a familiar feeling, a badge of honor for the sacrifices I made on the ice. As I stand under the warm spray of the shower, I watch the dried blood from the cut on my cheek and one above my eye mix with the water and swirl down the drain, disappearing into the checkered tile below.

Dressed and barely getting my gear bag over my shoulder, a voice calls out my name - a voice I was dreading to hear.

 "Sebastian. My office."

 It's Veronica Campbell, the team's tough-as-nails PR director. With her no-nonsense attitude and impeccable business attire, Veronica commands respect from the six-foot-tall athletes she works with, even though she stands nearly a foot shorter than us. Her petite frame is always adorned in sleek black or gray pantsuits, her feet shoved into practical flats rather than the towering heels one might expect. 

Letting out a heavy sigh, I trudged through the familiar locker room, feeling the weight of my teammates' eyes following me as I made my way towards Veronica's office. 

As I clicked the door shut behind me, I braced myself for the impending confrontation, my mind racing with possibilities. Veronica's commanding voice cut through the silence, instructing me to take a seat across from her. I reluctantly complied, rolling my eyes in a futile attempt to mask my growing anxiety. 

"If this is about the fight, it's hockey - people fight. So what is it? I'm suspended, pending investigation. He's filing charges? What?" I demanded, the words tumbling out in a frantic jumble. Rummaging through the papers on her desk, Veronica produced two small packets, each with a neon green tab marked "sign here" at the back.

 "The first is a non-disclosure agreement. I need you and Ms Brody to sign. The second is a treatment plan where Ms Brody will no longer be your nurse on call for any future games, and you will be tended to by Leo McGuire instead." My stomach dropped as her words sank in. 

“I-but wait- what?” I stammer out and I see her shoulders slump. Her hazel eyes are heavy, probably from stress and exhaustion. 

“ Look, I don't want the details of you and Ms Brody's relationship. I really don't need it. I just need you to sign the non-disclosure agreement and the treatment agreement. If you guys are going to continue with whatever it is, you're doing.” 

Veronica sat back in her chair, her eyes narrowed as I contemplated the stack of papers before me. 

"Did she bring this up to you?" I pressed.

Veronica paused, considering her words carefully. With a cool, measured tone, she replied, "How the information was presented to me is my business and my business alone." There was an underlying firmness to her voice that brooked no further questions.

In that moment, my mind seemed to completely shut off, operating on pure autopilot as my hand instinctively reached for the pen, signing my name on the dotted line before I even had a chance to process what I was doing. The typed words on the page blurred together, their contents a mystery as I hurriedly scrawled my signature. 

“Can I take these with me?” I ask.

“If she consents I need them by Thursday. You have a game and I need everything filed before then.” I barely registered her response, my body moving mechanically to gather up the papers, trying desperately not to crease or damage them in my haste. The legs of the chair nearly tripped me up as I clumsily made my way out of the office.

“But Sebastian,” her voice stops me in my tracks as I turn slowly to look at her. “It's my job to file the paperwork. It's your job to tell the coach.”

Fanclub: @tearfallpixie @ladyveronikawrites @beaker1636 @missduffsblog @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @rumoured-whispers @sorrowsofsilence @mysticdoodlez @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @somebodyels3 @flowery-mess @thisbicc

[thedevilrisen]

Cool Continuations

Quinn x Reader!oc

Word Count: 900 words!

Authorial Note: Part two of ‘Concrete Impressions.’ This is also a part of Cookie’ Universe! Thank you for the overwhelming amount of support on this au so far 🥺🫶🏼. NOTE THAT THIS IS ALSO A NORMAL QUINN FIC, IT IS A READER INSERT THAT ALIGNS WITH MY AU.

Warnings: Mentions of War in a classroom context.

‘The Vietnam War, started on the first of November, 1955…’ Quinn rested his chin on his balled-up fist. The bottom, bony part of his elbow was turning red and beginning to ache from how much weight he was resting on it. He wasn’t paying attention to the lecture at all. Normally, he only paid attention if it was dire or if he had an exam fast approaching. But today was different. He glanced periodically over at Cookie, paying attention to someone else entirely.

Quinn was hunched over, day-dreaming himself silly over the idea of being her prince charming. He imagined teaching her to skate, maybe even getting her to come to one of his games, wearing his jersey...

“What was that date again?” Y/N sighed, looking pensively at her iPad notes. Quinn’s heart jumped—he wanted to answer her, just to see her smile. He quickly Googled it, then read her the answer. In doing this, he learned he could be the one to make her smile, something he had already decided was his favorite thing. He pretended to absorb all the professor’s information like a sponge, even jotting down a few notes when she did.

Soon, he was noticing even more details about her, things he couldn’t help but find adorable. She was so particular about her academics; her notes were methodically typed and organized. She used both a physical calendar and an online one, and had a habit of thinking out loud. During a small writing task, she mumbled to herself, like a human articulation machine. She would say a word, then scrunch up her face, muttering something about there being a better one. He found himself smiling whenever she did this, realizing he didn’t just like seeing the joy on her face when she found the right word—he loved it.

‘Homework is due by 9 p.m. on Friday… dismissed!’

Quinn watched as she wrote this down in her physical planner: left side, third row down. He barely knew her, but he already felt himself sliding from curiosity to borderline obsession. He wanted to know every little thing that made Cookie unique, down to the tiniest detail. "What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon, Cookie?”

He watched as Y/N meticulously packed her notebook and iPad into her bag, slinging it back onto her shoulder. She adjusted her hair, tucking it over her ear. “I’m heading back to my dorm to have a pretty tame night. I’ll probably finish homework for this class, as well as my work for bio! It’s Tuesday though, so I’ll be ordering Indian and watching Gilmore Girls!”

Quinn smiled to himself gently. “Sounds like a packed evening there!”

“It will be, but it’s relaxing to me.” She quietly thanked a classmate who held the door open for them. Once they were in the corridor, Quinn lingered, desperate to absorb every second he could with her.

“Do you have anything on tonight, Quinn?”

The dazed look in his eyes dulled, and he snapped back to the moment. “I have hockey training tonight. We’ve got a game on Thursday, against BU.”

“Fun!” she said with a beaming smile, removing her heavy bag to hold it in front of her. Quinn noticed this and put two and two together—she’d been holding it too long, and it was getting heavy.

“I hope you do well in that game, Quinn!”

Quinn scratched the back of his neck, letting out a sheepish laugh as his eyes crinkled with a smile. “I was actually wondering… I know it’s sudden and short notice, but would you like to come? I could get you a ticket.”

He watched as surprise washed over her features. “You would want me to come?”

“Yeah!” What he really wanted to say was, I’d love for you to be there, but he managed, “I think it would be great if you were there!”

She smiled, a small joy-filled expression that just about melted Quinn. “I’d love to be there if it’s not too much hassle to get me a ticket?”

“Not at all! I can get you one and message it to you… I would need your phone number though!” He was trying to play his cards right. Even though he barely knew her, he knew these hours were some of the most formative and important he’d ever lived.

“Here, pass your phone—I can put it in!” Quinn placed his phone in her small, delicate hand and watched as her nimble fingers typed in her number before she handed it back carefully. “I have to go, but I’m sure I’ll see you again, Polka-dot.”

“Polka-dot?” Quinn looked down at her, bewildered. “What kind of nickname is that?”

“You’ll just have to find out!” She grinned at him, her hair waving as she turned and made her way toward the exit, her bag slung back on her shoulder. Quinn felt dazed, in awe of everything about her—her beauty, her kindness, and most of all, her effortless ability to be herself.

As she left, he realized she’d agreed to come to his game, and he had her phone number. Now, he just needed to make sure he didn’t mess this up. The next priority was securing that ticket for her, which meant that soon, all his teammates would know.

This was going to be interesting. But Quinn already knew it would be so, so worth it.

[azsazz]

Penance

Hockey Player!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel can't keep his hands to himself. A modern hockey AU.

Warnings: Fighting

Word Count: 970 (lol i wish it was way longer)

Notes: Welcome to the Hockey AU 😏

_________________________________________

You’ll never understand how your boyfriend gets into so many fights, but here you are again, watching him pummel another player into the ice.

The crowd screams wildly around you so loudly it’s nearly deafening. There’s a chill to the air only the ice emits, the rest of the atmosphere is filled with the heat of bodies, stench of beer and stadium popcorn, and a little bit like body odor. The mostly male fans around you clutch their drinks in their hands as they throw their arms up, egging on the brawl in the rink. You’re sure if you were sitting closer, you might be able to smell the blood splattering the pristine, white ice.

“Come on, Azriel,” you mutter, wringing your fingers together. It’s said a little in disappointment and a lot in encouragement. It’s tough to watch; a player on the Springview Wolves had checked him into the glass. It hadn’t been a nice check either, all but shoving Azriel’s face into the boards. His eyes had gone dark in a millisecond, spinning on his skate and chucking his stick to the ground, his gloves following.

The player had already turned away—Warrick, number 22, the back of his jersey reads—when Az had spun around to give him a taste of his own medicine, and the hit looked dirty on your boyfriend's side because of it, hitting a player who seemed unassuming. Tamlin, number 22’s name is, you know this because Azriel and a few of his teammates had been complaining about the blond haired player all week, saying how the coach only puts him in to start fights, the rest of the time he’s usually a duster, collecting cobwebs on the bench.

Gods, you hope Azriel doesn’t lose any teeth this time.

The pair seem to mostly be wrestling right now, trying to keep their balance as their skates slide against the slick ice and the referees try to tear them apart. But once players start tussling, there’s no breaking them up until one of them hits the ice.

The benches of both teams are going crazy, shouting and hitting their sticks against the partitions. You think you saw the team captain of the Velaris Bats, Rhysand, trying to jump onto the ice to join, but the coach had held him back by the scruff of his uniform.

Cassian had already been on the ice, a winger like Azriel. The pair were nearly untouchable on the ice. It’s as if they had twin telepathy, always scoring points off of one another. He shucked his own gloves off and started a fight with another player for the hell of it, living up to his nickname ‘bloodshed.’ It looks like he’s taking on one of the Vanserra brothers, the younger, Lucien. 

You don’t know what the hell their mother ate when she was pregnant with them, three of her seven sons in the NHL. Eris, the eldest, plays on the Auburn Foxes, while her second born, Pyrolas, has been with the Badgers. That is always a team you dread watching the Bats play. With the amount of fights Pyrolas starts and finishes, it’s a surprise the hot-headed player is still welcome on any team.

Azriel knocks one of Tamlin’s legs out from under him but his competitor doesn’t go down yet, keeping himself propped up on a knee. They’re punching wildly, hitting more helmets than skin, but crimson paints the ice from split knuckles.

You chew on your lip, praying that it ends soon. It’s gruesome, and now that Cassian has joined in, grinning feral with bloody teeth, other players have joined the fray. The referees are useless, and they can only watch the onslaught of Bats players fist-fighting with the Wolves.

The coaches are screaming their heads off from the benches, but there’s too much testosterone in the air for any of the players to hear, let alone take their threats seriously. You know Cassian’s going to be punished in practice for starting a team-wide brawl, and you hope Azriel won’t be added to that punishment.

Tamlin gets in a good hit to the face, cutting the bridge of Azriel’s nose on his helmet. You sigh sadly. You love his nose, all straight and perfect. Something low in your stomach twists, thinking about a scar cutting across the bridge of it. 

Azriel retaliates not with words, but his fists. He tugs the back of Tamlin’s lavender jersey over his head and pummels him, hands moving so fast the blinded player can’t keep up. His fingers scrabble for purchase, clawing into Azriel’s black jersey, but it doesn’t seem to make the man falter at all. 

Finally, Tamlin takes the fall, sliding the rest of the way to the ice. Azriel has his hand pressed to Warrick’s back, keeping him pressed to the ice, his left hand cocked, ready to deliver another blow should he need to. 

A referee skates in, pulling your boyfriend away from the felled player. He ushers Azriel to the penalty box while someone else collects his stick and gloves. Miraculously, his helmet sits on his head, and he’s handed a towel to wipe the blood from his face and knuckles, and Azriel looks beyond pissed off.

Cassian’s ejected from the game, but it doesn’t look much like he cares, receiving pats on the back and friendly shoves from his teammates. He thrives on the bloodshed, Mother help whoever locks him down. They’ll be dealing with eternally busted knuckles and missing teeth. 

The few minutes Azriel has to spend in the sin-bin are long, but at least you can take a moment to calm your racing heart, knowing he can’t start a fight while he’s in time-out for his actions.

The only thing you have to worry about is the remaining period after he gets out of it.

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 11

Hardcover/Anger Management ship Sacrificial Bride au

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

"This coat should fit you, and there should be a pair of boots in the second cubby from the floor on the right in the next closet." Jazz's voice was muffled by the coats in the closet, only her arm from the elbow down was visible with a coat hanging from her hand. Jason took the coat and made his way to the next closet, he grabbed the boots then shuffled back to the passenger's seat to sit and put them on. The boots were thickly lined with fur and up to his knees with metallic soles that had buttons on the sides and each end.

"We shouldn't be spending too much time outside, just going between the Speeder and buildings, but it truly is an arctic kingdom." Jason snapped his head up hearing her clearly now and stopped. Jazz had put on a long coat in bright teal fur, lined with black and white mottled fur. Her long hair was pulled into a braid and sat over her shoulder and out of the hood. The crown-helm seemed to have morphed to be more of a circlet to sit properly within the hood. Her sword sat at her hip, and he could see her armor peeking from beneath the coat. Her hands looked to be coated in burnished silver and she held out a pair of similar gloves for him.

He slowly rose from the chair, taking the gloves gently and purposefully brushing his fingers with hers. "Thank you." He said while looking up into her eyes. She seemed to pause here and he held eye contact until she blushed down her neck, blinked, and turned away towards the door.

"Let's head out to figure out more information so we can try and get you home!" She said quickly before opening the side door hatch. Instantly the temperature dropped to what he remembered from the Alps. "Hey Frostbite!"

Jason chuckled to himself, pulled the gloves on, and noticed they felt like cold silk. He stepped outside and instantly fell into waist-deep snow. Danny flew over and pulled him up so he has above the snow again. "Hit the buttons on the front inner parts of the shoes." He said and once Jason did, glowing green snowshoes appeared attached to the boots.

"Oh I gotta get myself a pair of these, what do the other buttons do?" Jason asked as he was set down on the snow, now stable.

"Skis, ice skates, ice cleats, I think that's it?" Danny asked.

"Don't forget the ice climbing cleats."

"Right, those too"

Jason shook his head at the banter between the to siblings. Glad to know even though they're royalty, they're still family. They followed Frostbite to one of the larger ice structures, and once inside he was able to shuck the heavy coat.

"So we're here for a basic check-over or are we doing a full exam?" Frostbite asked Jason, leading them into an exam room. He gestured for Jason to sit on the exam table and he did.

"I'm not sure what either of those things would cover, but I guess we're here to get my 'classification'? That's what these two have called it at least." Jason looked over at the two siblings, Jazz in a chair and Danny floating in a sitting position. "I guess if it's possible to look at my soul, maybe it would shed some light on the ritual that was used?"

Frostbite nodded. "So we'll do a basic check then." He moved to a computer console next to the table and began the boring process of getting his basic information down before he seemed to hesitate at the next question. "These next few questions can be triggering, not just on a psychological level, but on a spiritual and physical level as well. Unfortunately I still need to go through them. What can you tell me about your death?"

Jason's breath hitched and he closed his eyes, both his hands forming fists. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I was an idiot kid. I wanted so desperately for a parent who would love me unconditionally that I went to find a woman who did not care that I existed. I thought she was taken as hostage by Joker and went to save her. Instead, she was working with him, and she lit up a cigarette and stood near the door while my father's greatest enemy laughed while he beat me with a crowbar." He swallowed, his mouth dry. "Then he tied her up with me, and left us both there to die because he had rigged the building to explode. I kept begging for my dad to get there, to save me, but he never did. The last thing I remember is watching the numbers tick down on that clock." Tears fell from his face into his lap. He frustratedly wiped them away and looked up. "Next question doc."

"Hmm," Frostbite noted the information in the computer, "What do you remember about your resurrection?"

"Less. A lot less. I wasn't fully aware for the first year and a half or so after I came back. I remember mud, and blood, and a bright light. Then the next thing I remember is coming out of a Lazarus Pit to my dad's ex telling me I was unavenged and sending me on a training trip." Frostbite's fingers pause when he says he was unavenged.

"Do you remain unavenged?" He asked.

"Yes." Jason left it at that. Not wanting to bring up more traumas than necessary. He did miss Jazz sharpening her gaze at that though.

"Okay, what do you know of the time you were dead?"

"I don't remember any of it, but according to my family, I was dead for about six months before I crawled outta my own grave. Then another year and a half for coherent thought and speech."

"Interesting, we'll have to see what we can find then." Frostbite pulls out a screen to hold in front of Jason's chest. A blurred form appeared in the center of Jason's chest on the screen. Frostbite moved some dials and the screen sharpened into focus. What appeared on the screen looked like if there were a large splinter in a stress ball that looked like a lava lamp. Except if the wooden stake was a clear shard of something and the goo was constantly moving inside the stress ball. "Oh my. We will need to see if we can manifest your core outside of your body to determine what is going on. To do that, we'll have to give you a special brew we have here and then you need to imagine manifesting your soul in front of you." He left for a moment to gather the brew.

Jason blew his bangs out of his face and turned to the siblings. "Sorry if all that was a bit much. You don't have to stay here while we go over things if it's making you uncomfortable."

Danny scoffed and Jazz tapped her fingers on the arms of the chair she was in. "Trust me, that's not the most shocking thing we've heard. We literally rule over the land of the dead, we've heard and will hear worse."

"Not that your trauma is invalid at all. You are entirely justified to any feelings you have regarding events that have happened to you. We're not trying to minimize it, just that we've heard all sorts of trauma from just about every time period."

Jason smiled as he folded his hands in front of him. "Thanks"

"Don't mention it." Danny said. "But do I need to steal someone's bones?" Jazz smacked Danny's arm and he cackled.

Frostbite returned, special brew in hand, and had Jason drink the whole thing before attempting to meditate and 'imagine his soul outside of his body'. It took a few minutes, but eventually a bright green shape began to manifest about a foot and a half from the center of Jason's chest. Swirling in the orb that floated there was a slightly clear green liquid that seemed to be leaking out of the crack where the clear shard penetrated. A thicker liquid, brighter than the other liquid and almost alive danced about in the core.

"Let's see if we can get a makeup of these different components shall we?" Frostbite pulled out a hand-scanner that looked like a price gun and held it up to the core. A read-out printed next to him and he pulled a tiny pair of glasses from a pouch at his side to read it out. "Looks like the liquids are ectoplasm and a mixture of Dionesium, about fifty-six other trace elements and water. Odd, because Dionesium is supposed to only be found in the Realms, and rarely mixes with other materials. It appears as though it is separating and fusing with the ectoplasm in the core. We can get you on a regimen to clear out those trace elements and purify your core, because right now it's a bit infected. Now the shard is a bit more complicated." He pointed to the shard without touching it. "This seems to be a shard of reality itself. As such, it can only be removed by an Ancient, who has control over aspects. You do not count yet Great One, you will some day, but not for many centuries yet." He said with a smile towards Danny.

"So what does all of this mean as far as a classification goes?" Jason asked, getting them back on track.

"Right, yes, I was getting to that." He went back to typing. "So I thought at first you were a revenant, a creature brought back from the dead to enact revenge, but seeing as you are able to focus on other things, I'm going to say that is not the case. You are highly liminal, I dare say nearly as much as our Queen Regent was before she took the crown. You have a unique proto-core that will likely bond and absorb the Dionesium present. This will cause some side-effects. There's the standard heightened strength, speed and senses that come with high levels of liminality, but the Dionesium will have other effects. You will age slower, you will heal from near-mortal wounds, you will live longer than a standard human." Jason sat there for a moment, thanking about his family, his friends. There were a few who were immortal, like Diana, that he would still have, but to know for sure that if he survived all that life has to throw at him that he'll for sure out-live his entire family? To stay young while they all aged.

Jason looked at his hands, tracing the scars with his eyes. I guess I already knew I came back different, I just didn't realize how different. He cleared his throat and looked back at the doctor.

"We were gonna check if there was anything we could find about the ritual right? what about that?" he asked.

"Right, If I could have you stand over here on this pad, there's gonna be an arm that will swing around you, you just need to stand still for a few seconds." Jason stood in the center of the pad on the floor and waited as he was scanned. "Interesting, Queen Regent, if you could step inside as well, I'd like to check something?" Jazz stepped inside next to Jason and they were both scanned this time. "Very interesting." Jason and Jazz both came around to look at the screen. On it were two blobs roughly in the outlines of the two of them, however Jazz's blob was yellow and Jason's was red, and the two seemed to be blending in the space between them.

"What're we lookin' at here?" Jason asked.

"Well Lord Jason, it appears as though your souls are intrinsically connected. Whatever ritual that was used was a powerful one to have connected your very souls so closely in such a short span of time." He turned to the two of them. "Even if we are able to break the bond, you will likely stay close or somewhat drawn together." They both blushed and looked everywhere but each other. Danny gagged from the other side of the room. "That concludes the examinations, I can look over everything closer and bring you further information at a later date, but I believe we are all good for today." Frostbite handed Jason a lollipop and gestured for the door.

Danny was flying backwards talking to Jazz and Jason as a large snowball hit the back of his head, sending his tumbling through the air.

"Hey butt-muncher, how've you been?"

[aruanimess]

any aruani fic recs that you are your favorite?

Hello, anon!

So I've made a couple of posts in the past about this, but perhaps it's time to make a more comprehensive list. Sadly, the list of my favorites hasn't been expanded that much in the past year bc life has been kicking my ass since I haven't had much time for reading while also working on my own writing. But here goes.

Starting with the one-shots because they often get ignored:

Silhouettes by Jelly

Reincarnation AU. Armin spirals into madness as he tries to remember his past life, with Annie at the center of it all. Beautiful and concise, it'll have you sobbing on the floor.

Graffiti Love by brandymallory

Reincarnation AU. Armin and Annie are graffiti artists communicating with each other via murals. The understated, shimmering longing paired with the coolness of the street art scene is something else.

A Fistful of Latent Images by @aquietjune

Post-Canon Fort Salta fic. Armin and Annie navigate their relationship amidst the chaos of a post-apocalyptic world. Extremely well-written with great pacing, it captures the dissonance of normality after absolute devastation perfectly.

Look! by @lucaaazd

Modern AU. Kid Annie, still reeling from the loss of her father and subsequent adoption into her best friend's family, rescues Armin from his bullies. Grief and trauma mixed with the innocence of youth, its haunting carefreeness will fill you with an odd sense of optimism.

a crash course in curve lifts by @corner-stories

Modern AU, ice-skating. Armin and Annie, athletes who usually compete individually, train to perform a Pair routine for a gala (hopefully I got the lingo right). The commitment these two show to each other and their craft is absolutely heartwarming.

Now the multichapter fics:

A warrior in name, A traitor in game by @diam-etrical

Inspired by The Hunger Games. EMA in Marley. Set in a universe where the Warrior candidates have to fight to the death in an arena to get their titans. This will have you at the edge of your seat for sure. Also the character dynamics are expertly crafted.

Cigarette Duet by @darcycrow

Modern AU, set in Istanbul. Armin is a transfer student and new in town, he and Annie share a smoking spot in the schoolyard and bond over their existential dread, love of cats and weird relationship to intimacy. I'm here for the dry wit, the psychoanalysis and the sharp commentary about dating in the modern world.

Tater Tots & Heavy Thoughts by Anonymous

Modern AU. Armin is a social worker with a traumatic past, Annie asks him to help her brother who's a recovering drug addict (and then asks him out). This fic handles some extremely sensitive issues with care and compassion, it's a story about healing and not letting your past define you. Absolutely captivating and at times heartbreaking.

My Yellow Light in Your Soft Whispers by @annawayne

Post-Canon fic. Set roughly ten years after the Rumbling, Armin and Annie try to rebuild their trust in themselves and each other after a traumatic event. One of the most romantic entries on this list, steeped in rich symbolism and metaphor, the love Armin and Annie share is carved in every word, phrase and sentence.

See You Again by @dudewhy3

Modern AU. Estranged childhood friends, Armin and Annie, meet again after years apart, only Annie is sick and Armin is her doctor. It's a beautiful story about enduring love, compassion, second chances and vulnerability.

Love Letters from the Skies to the West Coast by @midnightraine131

Modern AU. Pastor's son Armin befriends Annie, a Californian girl who's new in town and also a bit of a wildcard. This is a sweet and funny story about the batshit shenanigans kids get up to, but also about the stifling confines of small religious communities.

Abandoned but worth a read regardless:

These City Lights by Katsy0c0

1920s AU. Armin is an up-and-coming Hollywood director and chooses Annie as his leading lady. An oldie but a goodie, the setting is exciting and glamorous and the relationship between the two is sweet and thrilling.

I Shall Slay by GoldenDoodleLover

Modern AU. Crack fic. Armin is recruited by his lit teacher Levi into a team of students who shall be participating in underground rap-battles. Absolutely hilarious and the verses are kinda fire.

[ghuleh-recs]

c*nty Olympic figure skater Terzo and his starry-eyed hockey goon bf Omega from @ramblingoak’s iconic new speed skater!Copia AU. Run—don’t walk—to read it here: Copia on ICE!

Excerpt and costume inspo under the cut. (Yes. Yes, it is Johnny Weir.)

“Do you think he’s into fisting?”

“Jesus Christ Terzo!” You slid to a stop in front of where your friend and roommate was lounging against the rink wall staring at his phone. “What the hell?”

“I’m just asking!”

“But why are you asking me when you should be asking him?”

“I will but you know, one needs to prepare themselves for every possibility.” He glanced up from his phone with a smirk on his face. “Like fisting.”

“How about you keep your possibilities to yourself.” You skated to his side, placing your elbows on the low wall while you gave him a stern look. “And stop saying fisting.”

“Fine, fine.” His phone screen lit up and Terzo grinned at whatever was on there before he quickly typed out a response. When he was done he turned and gave you a quick grin. “Have I ever told you that you are my favorite person?”

“Yes, but you only tell me that when you have bad news or you want something.” Terzo’s grin wavered a bit but his phone lit up again and he giggled at whatever he saw on it. “Just spit it out Terzo.”

“Would you mind terribly if I left early?”

“How early? We still have the rink for a few hours.”

He winced, glancing at his phone again before sheepishly meeting your eyes.

“Now?”

“Now? Terzo, you need to practice!”

“SÍ, grazie coach, I know.” He pushed off the wall and skated around you to the opening. “I’ve been practicing for weeks. Months.” You watched as he grabbed his blade covers and went to sit on the bench where he’d tossed all his gear. “Years!”

“That’s the point Terzo! We do all this practicing for a reason, to get to where we are today.” You grabbed your own covers and followed him out of the rink. “You do remember we’re at the Winter Olympics, right?”

“We’re at the Olympics?!” Terzo gave an exaggerated gasp and you rolled your eyes. “Amica mia, I know this. How can I forget when you’re covered in feathers.”

Glancing down at your costume you let out a sigh. Swan Lake hadn’t been your first choice of song for your short program, mostly because you knew your coach would lean into the swan aspect way too much. White feathers decorated the fabric from your chest down to the short skirt. When you looked at the ground you could see a few feathers had fallen off and were scattered over the floor. With a huff you crossed your arms and looked back to glare at Terzo.

“At least I’m covered in something. Your costume is 80% lace. Does that even meet the regulations?”

“Omega liked it.”

“Oh well if Omega likes it then that’s all that matters.” You both glared at each other for a few beats before you sighed and trudged over to sit by him on the bench. “Is he a snowboarder?”

“Hockey.”

“Well Secondo will be pleased at least.”

“Eh, he plays for Sweden.” At that you winced, Terzo’s older brother was the head coach for team Italy and probably wouldn’t be thrilled Terzo was sleeping with someone from a rival team. “You should see him, cara mia. Wide shoulders, thick arms and an ass to die for.”

“That sounds like most hockey players.”

“No no, he’s not just a hockey player. He’s the captain.”

“The captain? Then why the fuck are you still here? Go get him!”

Terzo laughed, leaning in to give you a quick kiss on your forehead.

“I knew you’d understand.”

Read the rest here!

✨ He really did that ✨

[newtonsheffield]

What is it about ice skating tropes that makes them so compelling?? I became fully invested in this au after one post!

I actually think this one I might write tbh

Maybe just like a little two parter. A little baby fic. Featuring two babies helplessly in love. Because imagine Anthony noticing a hickey on Kate’s neck during practice that he definitely didn’t put there. And he shouldn’t be jealous because he told her he wasn’t interested in a relationship but fuck it makes him want to put his fist through a wall.