#be quiet gentle puck

[shakespeariancryptid]

I live in FL and I'm from Brevard County and the fact that they banned SASAKI AND MIYANO but kept CHAINSAW MAN is INSANE to me????

Like if your argument is appropriateness for children, a soft and gentle romance that doesn't have a kiss till like book 7 vs a series with EXPLICIT GORE AND VIOLENCE i'm giving my kid the soft romance.

[isaadore]

STITCHES QUINN HUGHES

pairing quinn hughes x doctor!reader

SUMMARY when quinn suffers a shoulder injury, he’s forced to work with you. word count 1.2k words

warnings mentions of injury and physical pain, workplace romance, teasing, forced proximity (?), fluff

note first quinn fic in a while!! (even tho it's a bit on the shorter side 😞) missed writing for him

MAIN MASTERLIST QH43 MASTERLIST

THE CROWD CHEERED as the Canucks’ focused, ready to take back the lead. You watched from the medical bay, eyes following the puck and scanning for any signs of injury. As the new head of the medical team, this season was a make-or-break for you, and you knew you had to prove yourself capable of handling any situation under pressure.

Then, it happened.

A bone-jarring hit echoed through the rink. Your eyes shot up to the screen just in time to see Quinn Hughes take a brutal check into the boards, twisting in a way that made your stomach lurch. He went down hard, clutching his shoulder. The team’s medical staff rushed onto the ice and helped him off, and a few moments later, he was hobbling into the treatment room, face pale and pained, still gripping his shoulder.

He sat down, wincing as he did so, and looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours. He offered a slight nod, even managing a tight smile. “Guess it was just a matter of time, huh?”

You returned his smile, feeling sympathetic. “Seems like it, but let’s see what’s going on.”

You placed an ice pack over his shoulder, trying to ease some of the swelling. “I’ll start with a few checks to see what kind of injury we’re dealing with. Let me know if it hurts too much.”

He gave a small nod. “I’m tougher than I look.”

Carefully, you guided his arm, checking his shoulder’s movement. He was trying to play it off, but you could see his face tighten in pain. “Quinn, don’t push through it,” you said gently but firmly. “If it hurts, I need to know.”

He let out a shaky breath. “All right… yeah, it hurts a lot more than I thought it would.”

“Thank you for being honest,” you replied, moving his arm back to a resting position. “For now, let’s get a scan to see what’s really going on. My guess is you’ll need some time off the ice to heal, maybe a few weeks.”

His expression fell, and he let out a quiet sigh, his gaze dropping to the floor. “That long?”

You nodded, keeping your tone reassuring. “It’s tough, but this is about protecting your long-term health. We’ll take it step by step.”

He nodded, visibly frustrated. “Can’t say I’m thrilled, but I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

The next morning, Quinn showed up for his first official rehab session. He wore a hoodie, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his posture closed off and frustrated. You recognized the look; a mix of vulnerability and irritation. Being benched was the last thing any player wanted.

“Ready to get started?” you asked, offering a gentle smile.

He shrugged, though his attempt to hide his irritation was clear. “I don’t know if I’d say ready, but I’m here.”

You chuckled, leading him through an outline of the exercises. “Today’s going to be mostly small movement work. It might seem light, but this is where it all begins.”

You guided him through gentle exercises, keeping it easy to help him regain strength in his shoulder. He followed along, sometimes gritting his teeth when it hurt, and you noticed him stealing glances your way when he thought you weren’t looking. He’d fidget whenever your hands brushed his shoulder or arm, you could see he trying to distract himself from the pain.

After the session, you began to reorganize the room. He leaned against a table, watching you. “So, how’d you end up working with a bunch of stubborn hockey players?”

You laughed, glancing at him. “Guess I like a challenge.”

He grinned, looking amused. “Well, you found one. We’re all terrible patients.”

“I’m beginning to see that,” you teased, crossing your arms as you met his gaze. “But I don’t mind it.”

Over the following weeks, Quinn’s rehab sessions became a regular part of your day. You fell into a rhythm together, moving through the exercises, slowly adding tougher movements as his shoulder improved. Sometimes you talked about nothing in particular, just enjoying each other’s company. He’d walk in a little more relaxed each day, his mood visibly lifting.

One morning, after a particularly tough session, he sat back, wiping sweat from his brow. “I don’t know how you put up with me,” he said, half-joking. “I’m probably driving you nuts.”

You leaned against the table beside him, crossing your arms. “Honestly? You’re one of my better patients. Some guys complain non-stop.”

“Guess I’m saving that part for later,” he replied, smirking. Then he paused, his smile fading a bit. “But seriously… thank you. You make this bearable.”

Your gaze softened. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s hard to be off the ice, but I’m here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you. “I can tell you actually mean that.” His voice was quiet, almost as if he were afraid of ruining the moment. “Most people just want to get us back on the ice as fast as possible for the pay. But you’re different.”

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in his words. “I care about what I do. And it’s easy to care for passionate people.”

His expression softened, and he looked at you, something in his gaze you couldn’t quite place. “Maybe you can remind me next time I’m feeling sorry for myself.”

“Deal,” you replied, smiling. “But you owe me for all this extra therapy.”

He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk appearing on his face. “Are you saying I’m high maintenance?”

“I’m saying that you’re lucky I’m patient,” you shot back, feeling a strange, excited flutter in your chest. His playful expression softened, and his eyes focused intently on you.

“I’ll remember that,” he said quietly, his gaze holding yours a little longer than necessary.

One evening, after the facility had mostly emptied, you were finishing up some paperwork when you heard footsteps approaching. You looked up, surprised to see Quinn lingering in the doorway, looking as though he’d been debating whether or not to come in.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, setting down your pen.

“Didn’t expect you to be here this late either,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Do you ever stop working?”

You smiled. “Not when I’m invested in a patient’s progress. And you, Quinn, are making a lot of progress.”

He stepped further into the room, a hesitant smile on his face. “That’s good to hear. And I guess part of me wanted to say thanks. For everything.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve already thanked me a hundred times.”

“I know. But…” He looked down, gathering his thoughts. “This isn’t easy for me. Not being on the ice, not doing what I love. But you make it easier.”

The air felt thick, and his gaze met yours, soft and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. You felt your pulse quicken, and before you could stop yourself, you said, “Maybe when you’re cleared, we can celebrate with a coffee; you owe me after all.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but it quickly melted into a warm smile. “I’d like that. More than you know.”

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ QH43 MASTERLIST

[drysdalesworld]

i loved what you wrote about the boys with super energetic kids but what about them with kids who are the complete opposite? like a very shy, quiet kid

them with a shy, quiet child

i was planning on doing this anyway but i love that you asked for it bc i wasn’t too sure if anyone else wanted that as well. hope you enjoy! <3

the boys with a shy & quiet kid (+ x fem!reader)

the boys with a shy, quiet daughter:

JACK HUGHES

— is so patient & gentle with her it’s crazy

— ^ like he’s so careful with his words when speaking to her & always makes sure that she’s comfortable

— speaks for her when she’s too shy to speak. like when the three of you are out at a restaurant & she’s too shy to tell the waiter what she wants, he’ll do it for her & always makes sure to ask her exactly what she wants beforehand so there’s no mistakes when ordering

— holds her hand when she gets anxious & squeezes it a couple of times to make sure she knows that he’s there for her

— she much prefers you over jack due to how calmer you are as a person but he doesn’t mind at all. if anything, he’s glad that she’s able to find solace in the reader as he can only imagine how hard it is to be shy & quiet as a child

— he genuinely tries to be more calmer & quiet in her presence. it’s a work in progress

— jack often finds himself going to quinn for advice on how to do better with his daughters shy & quietness. he only wants to do good by his daughter & it shows in his actions

— encourages her to speak her truth & speak up for herself when needed. he knows that it’s a hard thing to do but he encourages it by practicing & setting an example with reader as they both openly communicate how they feel to each other

— encourages her to speak her truth & speak up for herself when needed. he knows that it’s a hard thing to do but he encourages it by practicing & setting an example with reader as they both openly communicate how they feel to each other

— will literally wear a princess dress to the movies if a new disney movie comes out & she decides it’s her new favorite princess & wants to dress up. he has no shame

— during the summers, he makes sure to lather her in sunscreen. he’s deathly afraid of her burning so he goes the extra mile

— ^ tries to convince her to go wake boarding with him but she always says no. until a couple of weeks into the summer months, she finally agrees & has a blast as jack holds her tightly & does all these cool spins & tricks on the board

— he 100% always joins the readers & their daughters nap times when he gets back home from morning skate. the sight of the two of you wrapped up & cuddled around each other is so cute & makes his heart melt

— jack makes sure to give her a puck before every home game & blows her a kiss before skating off. he also makes sure to dedicate his second goal to her, his first dedicated to you always

KIRBY DACH

— she’s so small in comparison to kirby it’s insane

— he always holds her close wherever they go together. since you both live in montréal, & it’s cold, he always bundles her up so it’s quite funny to see him carrying just a ball of wrapped baby

— kirby’s so much more gentler & quieter with her. he can definitely tell when she’s having a more quiet day & is the best in making her comfortable

— 100% tries to help with her shyness by signing her up in sports or other activities to try to get her out of her shell

— ^ you once suggested summer camp & kirby was super hesitant about it but she ended up loving it so much that she couldn’t wait for the next summer. kirby lowkey felt sad at that bc all he wants to do is spend time with his baby girl & her going off nearly every summer for however many weeks just goes to show how much she’s growing

— whenever she gets nervous or eerily quiet, he holds out his hand for her & just dance around with her. it never fails to put a smile on her face & always gets her out of her funk

— kirby made her a bracelet when she was younger & she wore the shit out of it. it’s now just string but she always played with it whenever she got nervous or approached a new person at school in hopes of being their friend. she still carries it around with her for comfort

— is so supportive in whatever she does

— ^ she wants to play pickleball instead of hockey? he’s already checking out all the gear she’ll need. decides last minute to wear a princess dress instead of her school uniform? he’s asking her which dress she wants. she wants to try to make a friend by herself at the park? he’s sitting back & observing w/ a smile on his face

— kirby’s very big on communication so he always makes sure to check in on her & her feelings. it’s gotten to the point where she’ll just tell you how she feels instead of reader or kirby having to ask

— is also the type of dad to have matching costumes with his daughter

— ^ one year they went as (pink) kirby & princess daisy. it was so fucking cute. it’s one of your lock screens in your phone hehe

— is the one to wake her up in the morning & ease any anxiety she has about school or making new friends

— ^ he’ll brush back the hair from her face & softly speak to her as she voices her concerns & he’s so good at proving that she has nothing to be afraid of. he also makes sure that she’s confident in whatever she wears so kirby allows her to choose her outfits (she’s a little fashionista fr)

NICO HISCHIER

— mans will be the gentlest giant with her

— ^ cuddles 24/7 & nothing but affirmations from this man

— he can understand how hard it is to be so shy & quiet so he always tries his best to make little goals with his daughter in hopes of breaking her out of her shell

— ^ he’ll ask her what she wants to achieve that day on their way to school. it can be anything ranging from making a flower crown to asking someone to play with her during playtime. he’s always so proud of her when she runs up to him after school with the biggest smile on her face, telling him what she achieved that day

— nico’s heart always warms whenever he sees reader & their daughter together. she’s a lot like you & he’s so proud & thankful that he’s been blessed with this kind of life

— encourages her to go to practices with him whenever she’s allowed to

— is def the dad to be up on the stage with his daughter during her ballerina recital

— takes her to new places for exposure & although it’s nerve racking for the both of them, it’s something that neither of them will forget bc of the fun memories

— she does eventually “grow out” of being quiet & shy. she’s got a lot more tools to work with when she’s anxious or feeling shy & nico is always there to help her whenever she needs it

— plays with her hair when he sees that she’s going back into her shell

— ^ he allows her to do so most days but he knows the importance of building up your confidence when young & making friends so he plays with her hair for a bit while he talks to her to bring back up her mood. it usually works

— 100% the one to talk to her about her anxieties & make her feel better about them after

— nico tries everything to get her more out of her shell. he puts her into sports he thinks she’ll enjoy. makes sure she goes to her classmates birthday parties. all that stuff with different goals in mind so even if she doesn’t make a new friend, she’ll still have something to be proud of herself for

TREVOR ZEGRAS

— tbh, he has no clue what to do lol

— he’s learned a great amount of patience with his daughter

— he def tries to understand why she’s so quiet & shy. this leads him to reading about it more & seeking out answers on what he could do to accommodate her more

— trev 100% had to go to jamie for help since they’re both alike in personality. he’s such a big help

— will do anything to protect her & make sure she’s comfortable

— ^ whether that be in his arms or by herself, he’s ready to do whatever

— practices speaking up for herself. trevor will be so much more talkative about how he feels & what he’s doing throughout the day w/ her that she’ll eventually pick up on it & do it herself

— ^ if she’s not confident enough to verbalize it, she’ll write it & sometimes he & her go back & forth with letters. reader got the whole family a notebook so they all can communicate through that if verbalizing it is too hard

— mans literally shed a tear when she made her first friend

— the entire ducks team adore her

— let’s her take the reins in some things. it gives her the confidence to do things for herself & he can see the change in her behavior when she has more control over certain choices

— if she’s feeling shy or anxious, trevor will suggest they play hide ‘n seek or another game to get her mind off things or to simply just make her laugh & have a good time

— always on high energy when he wakes her up & sometimes she bounces off him with it but most often, she doesn’t so he has to check himself a lot & be a lot more calmer around her in the morning

the boys with a shy, quiet son:

JAMIE DRYSDALE

— is so happy to have a kid just like him. he literally looks just like jamie & acts like him it’s kind of eerie

— before jamie leaves for morning skate, he always presses a kiss to the crown of his sons forehead, whispering a promise of coming back & waking him up for breakfast

— ^ jamie takes great pleasure in waking up your son every morning after he returns from morning skate. he just looks so cute with his dark hair all sprawled about, still wiping the sleep from his eyes as he reaches out for his dad. jamie always chuckled to himself as he takes his son into his arms & rubs his back soothingly, making his way out to the kitchen where you are

— you & jamie are one of the only people your son plays with so it’s always a hassle to try to encourage him to play with other children his age

— ^ the one time it works is when jamie took him to the park & started talking to one of the other dads there. his son saw him talking to someone new so he decided that if his dad can do it, then so can he. he made two friends that day & they regularly go on play dates

— you always encourage both jamie & your son to be more friendly & talkative as you know it would most likely help them break out of their shells a little bit

— he put your son into hockey in hopes of him coming out of his shell a little bit & it def worked. jamie sometimes has to drag your son off of the ice bc he doesn’t want to leave just yet

— he’s really only friendly to certain people like trevor or mason since he’s known them since he could remember. it’s just other people he’s super hesitant about but both him & jamie are working on it together!

— loves loves holding him & taking him everywhere

— he always talks to him too about whatever & his son usually responds talking about something random. it’s how he developed his rambling habit whenever he meets new kids lol

— when he got traded, jamie was really nervous to see how your son reacted to the change since it was so sudden & abrupt. but he surprisingly took it really well. he even said hi to some of the other players after the game, head buried into readers collarbone as he waved to those walking passed him

— ^ the flyers def love your son & always include him on their “barking”. once he gets comfortable enough, he just kind of screams instead of barking but the whole team just eats it up & loves it, cheering him on

LUKE HUGHES

— he & his son are one in the same

— ^ they have the same facial expressions for everything & it’s too funny when they overhear someone saying some random shit & make the exact same face

— your son may be shy & quiet but he’s also calm & mellow. he speaks through his eyes & facial expressions

— ^ has a rbf & is not afraid to use it (especially if someone’s bothering him or you lol)

— reader 100% believes that her son is an old soul & is just done with living. like little dude barely tries to make friends (granted he is shy & it’s a little difficult for him) & just doesn’t have much to say & when he does, he has you reevaluating your life after a conversation

— lukes fav thing to do with his son is put a shit ton of blankets on the couch, make a fort, & watch his favorite movies while snacking on mac n cheese & homemade cookies. they do it nearly every night luke’s home

— he’s super gentle & patient with him as he tries to navigate his shyness. luke encourages him to make friends but doesn’t pressure him at all & also puts him into sports in hopes that he makes them naturally through that

— ^ & it does work! he’s made so many friends through hockey, soccer, baseball, etc.. although he is still quite shy & quiet during his games, which he is actively working on

— whispers to him when he’s overwhelmed & rubs his back in comfort as his son crawls into his arms

— puts him to bed & reads him bedtime stories

— at the lake house, luke is ever the more observant & cautious with his son. he makes sure to put sunscreen on him & that he always has his hat on to protect him from the sun

— ^ when he asked luke if he could go wake boarding with him, he nearly squealed in excitement. his son doesn’t really feel comfortable trying new things so this is a HUGE step in the right direction. holds onto him so tight as he giggles whenever luke does tricks. he has such a blast

QUINN HUGHES

— these two are a mirror image of each other it’s insane

— ^ ellen pointed it out to you a few weeks after you had given birth & you can’t unsee it (your son & quinn are twinsies fr)

— even tho his son is shy, he highly encourages him to make some friends in pre-k but assures him that he should take it day by day & that he’ll always love him no matter what

— definitely tries to make him less anxious by taking him in his arms & giving him raspberries in his neck or on his stomach. it helps take his mind off of whatever he was thinking about

— his son always wants to see him right after quinn’s games, which isn’t always possible so sometimes he has him join him for interviews. just quinns presence makes his son calm

— ^ quinns def encouraged him to answer or speak into the mic & his son is always a blushing mess after he says hi into it, hiding his face in the crook of quinns neck as everyone awes

— quinn always has a hand on his son. whether it be on top of his curly hair or on his back as his soothingly rubs it. he always has to have a hand on your son as quinn knows that he’s his son safe person. it makes the both of them feel better

— always tries to include him in everything (when it’s appropriate) so he’ll def bring him to events or practices. it exposes him to more things & it eases his sons anxiety with stuff like that

— 100% does arts & crafts with him. it’s so fucking cute istg

— when he’s old enough to understand certain words, quinn will tell him about his struggles with being a quiet child as well. he wants his son to know that he’s not alone & never is

— gets him a bear that has a voice recorder in it with the both of you saying “we love you bud! you got this!” that he plays every morning & it 100% makes him feel better about whatever he was worried about

— his son’s biggest cheerleader fr

— ^ the loudest you will ever hear quinn be is at his sons sports game or when he gets an award. he’s so proud of him & all of his progress, no matter how great or small

LUCA FANTILLI

— is off the walls ecstatic to just have a child really

— loves him either way

— luca is definitely his sons safe person so luca always has him in his arms or has a hand on his head as he clings onto his leg

— always refers to him as “buddy” or “my little buddy”, which gets him out of his shell sometimes since he wants to be just like his dad

— so so patient & understanding

— ^ will sit by his son as he’s trying to express himself without feeling nervous & lets him take his time. also helps him through his emotions as well

— encourages him to practice his “social skills” on him so he can remember what to say or do when he wants to make a new friend

— takes him to practice when allowed & just lets him chill or play around with the pucks

— ^ the entire umich team loves loves your son & although he is shy, they always make an effort to talk to him or fist bump him every time they skate by him. they respect his boundaries 100% too

— ^^ monday questions with him is always 50/50. sometimes he’ll be up for it & other times he won’t. but when he is, he’s so cute & giggly as he answers the question (most definitely copying his dads answer)

— reader is the one to wake him up more often than not & he much prefers it that way. you’re much calmer than luca at times so your son loves to just cuddle up to you as you pick him up & make your way to the kitchen where luca is making breakfast

— luca has him do the “shakes” whenever he’s feeling anxious about something

— ^ he told his son that it helps with getting the nerves out & he’ll absolutely just start shaking his arms or whole body out of nowhere to get rid of them

— the king at back rubs fr

— gets all papa bear when he hears from his sons teacher that some kids were making fun of him for being so quiet. luca literally gives a stern talking to to their parents & tells his son that bullies only do that to make themselves feel better since they feel “bad/insecure” about themselves. him being shy & quiet is something that he shouldn’t be ashamed of as it is apart of him & luca & reader love every inch of their son, no matter what

— posts “ootd” stories on his insta & hypes up his son as he poses & giggles

— always makes sure to shower his son in praise whenever he achieves a goal or makes a new friend. he’s so excited for his little buddy & his progress!

COLE CAUFIELD

— is surprisingly good at this for some reason

— knows all the tricks to encourage his son to get out of his shell & interact with others

— ^ you’re suspicious of him sometimes bc whatever he does or suggests always works. it’s like he’s psychic or something

— if he’s not having a good day, cole will gather his son in his arms & hold his close to his chest. sometimes he even puts his sweatshirt over him as he’s wearing it so he feels even safer

— cole throws ice cream parties whenever his son makes a new friend or talks to someone for longer than five minutes

— ^ you think it’s a bit excessive but start to see the progress he’s making in breaking through his shell so you don’t stop cole from continuing to throw them. you eventually find it super cute & heartfelt

— def encourages him to find something he’s passionate about to take his mind off whatever he’s feeling anxious about. sports is something he wants to try so cole sort of threw him into whatever sport he thought he’d enjoy

— ^ soccer is something your son enjoys as communication has to be constant between all the players & it encourages him to be more vocal

— is really good at implementing coping techniques/mechanisms for his son if he ever needs them. lowkey a therapist fr (he’s got extensive knowledge about this shit that you sometimes wonder what cole would be like as an actual therapist)

— gets super excited when he does something out of his comfort zone & makes sure his son knows how proud of him he is

— is super patient & understanding

— it’s a tradition for cole to take him to practice once or twice a month (or week) & the boys absolutely love your son!

— ^ little dude is a completely different person on the ice it’s insane. all of his shyness & quiet tendencies disappear & he just has so much fun that it sometimes makes cole tear up with pride & happiness

[heartsandhischier]

Rink Bonds

luke hughes x female!reader

summary - 1.1k words. Figure skating reader and Michigan wolverine Luke = loveeeee

author's note - i can really see luke being like this, and i love it

warnings - none

You pushed open the heavy doors of Yost Arena, the familiar chill of the ice rink greeting you as you stepped inside. With a gap in your schedule, you decided to make the most of it by hitting the ice for some practice. Another USFS intercollegiate competition was approaching, and you were determined to come out on top.

Heading for the locker room, you changed into your figure skating gear – black tights, a black jacket, and leg warmers – before lacing up your skates. After placing all of your stuff in the locker, you grabbed your water bottle and proceeded to the rink. As you approached, the familiar sound of skates scraping against the ice and the clinking of hockey sticks filled your ears, proving that you wouldn’t have the ice to yourself as you’d hoped.

Your annoyance faded, however, when you spotted the stowaway on the ice – Luke Hughes. Moving swiftly across the ice, navigating the puck as he let it fly into the net. The youngest of the famous Hughes brothers and a New Jersey Devils prospect, Luke was a familiar name around the Michigan University campus.

You had crossed paths with him a handful of times at different parties, and during your late-night practices at the rink, where you’d often find him lingering after his hockey practice. Despite frequent encounters, you had never exchanged more than a few awkward greetings and goodbyes. Each time he left the rink, you’d enter, and vice versa, exchanging brief glances and polite nods as you passed each other.

As you watched Luke’s graceful movements on the ice, it was as if he belonged there, the rink was his natural habitat. Removing your skate guards and placing your water bottle on the bench, you elegantly glided onto the ice. The sound of skates slicing through the ice echoed throughout the rink, prompting Luke to halt his movements, turning his attention towards you. His warm smile greeted you as you approached. “Practice?” he asked, leaning casually on his stick.

Your lips curved into a smile as you nodded in confirmation. “Yeah, there was a change in my schedule. So figured I’d put my newfound free time to good use,” you replied. “Same,” Luke chuckled. With a nod, you both returned to your routines, the sound of skates carving the ice filling the air.

For the next hour, you and Luke practiced on opposite sides of the rink, occasionally exchanging glances and playful banter. “You’re pretty good, Hughes,” you remarked, admiring his skill as he effortlessly sent the puck into the net.

“Likewise,” he laughed, skating around with ease.

As the weeks went by, you kept running into each other at the empty rink. It turned into an unspoken agreement between the two of you. Meeting during the break between classes or late at night when the campus was quiet.

With each meeting, your bond grew stronger. Luke would often join you as you glided across the ice, his skates effortlessly cutting through the surface. Despite your differences in sports, you found common ground in your shared love for the ice.

You couldn’t help but laugh as Luke patiently tried to explain the world of hockey to you, his enthusiasm evident in every word. In return, you tried to teach him the graceful movements of figure skating, guiding him through simple manoeuvres with a gentle hand.

“Okay, so imagine you’re gliding on air,” you explain, demonstrating a graceful spin on your skates. “Now, give it a try.”

Luke nodded eagerly, his determination shining through as he attempted to mimic your movements. Though his first attempts were a bit clumsy, you couldn’t help but admire his determination.

“Almost there,” you encouraged, holding back a laugh as he stumbled and fell onto the ice, landing on his butt with a thud.

As you worked on perfecting your flip jump, you sensed a presence approaching on the ice. Turning around, you were met by Luke’s brown curls and charming smile as he skated towards you. “Hey there,” he greeted, his voice carrying above the sound of skates slicing through the ice. “I was wondering if you’d like to come to my hockey game this Saturday. It’s going to be a good one.”

“Hmm, tempting offer.” You replied, tilting your head to one side. “But only if you promise to come to my competition next week.” You winked, extending your hand. Luke let out a soft chuckle, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Deal!” he agreed without hesitation, shaking your hand in agreement.

Luke skated backwards with a wink, returning to his practice. “Can’t wait to see you there!”

The day of the hockey game, you found yourself seated in the stands, eagerly watching as the Michigan Wolverines took to the ice. The arena buzzed with excitement, the cheers of passionate fans mixed with the crisp sound of skates cutting across the ice.

As the players began their warmups, your eyes instinctively sought out Luke. Despite the helments and the uniformity of the jerseys, you’d recognise him anywhere – his confident grace agross the ice, the way his shoulders moved as he controlled the puck, and his number 43 sprawled across his jersey.

Then, as if sensing your gaze, Luke skated over to where you were seated. His smirk unmistakable, a blend of mischief and affection that made your cheeks warm despite the cold. He stopped just short of the boards, close enough that you could see the glint in his eyes.

“I have a bet!” He declared, his voice carrying that unmistakable mix of mischief and confidence. You couldn’t help but smirk, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you leaned in, encouraging him to continue. “If I score tonight, you owe me a date,” he continued, his confidence evident in his tone. “What if you don’t?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Let’s just say, that’d not something you need to worry about!”

As the game unfolded, you watched in awe as Luke dominated the ice. With each goal he scored, the puck sailed into the net as if drawn by some magnetic force, sending the crowd into a roar of cheers and applause. The arena vibrated with energy, and when the buzzer blared to signal his third goal the exitement reached a fever pitch.

This idiot scored a hat trick.

When the final buzzer rang, signalling a decisive victory for the Michigan Wolverines, the arena erupted in cheers, but your focus was entirely on Luke. With a wide, triumphant grin, he skated over to you, his breath still coming in quick puffs from the intensity of the game.

As he reached the boards, he pulled off his helmet. His dark curls, damp with sweat, fell slightly into his eyes, but he quikly shook them out, running a hand through his hair. His eyes shining with the thrill of the game, a confident smirk tugget at the corners of his lips “So what did you think?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his cockiness, rolling your eyes playfully. “Show off!” you scoffed, though the smirk on your lips betrayed your amusement. “Had to put on a show for you,” he shrugged, still grinning, and let out a light chuckle. “Especially when there was so much at stake.”

You raised an eyebrow, the playful smirk lingering as you leaned in slightly. “Oh, so it was all about our little bet, huh?” you teased.

“Partly,” he admitted with a smirk, his eyes glinting with that familiar cockiness. “But mostly because I wanted to impress you.” His confession caught you off guard, sending a stream of warmth to your cheeks. “Well consider me impressed,” you replied, a genuine smile tugging at your lips, one that you couldn’t quite hide, no matter how hard you tried.

“So about that date…” he trailed off, sounding almost shy as he left the question lingering between you. You tilted your head thoughtfully, pretending to weigh your options, though the answer had been clear to you long before tonight. Finally, you let a small smile play on your lips and replied, “I suppose I owe you one.”

[sweethischier]

Word count: 1.1k Warnings: mentions of slight injury (bruising from a puck), suggestive content at the end

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Nico to come out of the locker room with a certain slack in his steps, especially after a particularly rough game, but the normalcy didn’t stop you from worrying. You hated watching his face contort with discomfort any time he moved a certain way or took too hard of a step. You hated the quiet groans he let out when he would sit or stand, or when you would lay on him the wrong way. To put it plainly, you hated seeing Nico in any sort of pain, which was unfortunate for you given his chosen profession.

It was a rare occurrence for you to miss one of Nico’s home games, but this time there was no getting out of it. He was never upset when you weren’t able to make it because he knew you always had a good reason, but this time he was grateful you weren’t there. He had taken a particularly nasty slap shot to the thigh near the end of the third period that kept him from going back on to the ice, and he knew you’d worry yourself sick if you’d been there to see it. When he called you after the game, you gave no indiction that you knew of his small accident, and as much as he’d like to keep it that way, the already enormous bruise on his thigh was going to make that difficult.

“Nico,” Your soft voice calls out when you hear the front door open, letting the fridge door close as your desire for a snack is long forgotten. 

You step out of the kitchen and take quick note of the way he was attempting to come off as if he wasn’t in slight pain, but you don’t miss the way he was purposely keeping all of his weight off of his right leg. He notices the way your eyes drop to his lower half, and he does his best to apply more pressure to the leg that was sending annoying, dull aches throughout his entire body before he drops his bag and walks towards you. The corners of your lips tug downward into a frown, but he pulls you into his chest and the warmth from his body relaxes you almost instantly.

“I’m fine,” He sighs, his arms carefully tightening around you, “Blocked a shot with my leg, s’all.”

“What,” You gasp, quickly pulling away from him with wide eyes, “Nico! What do you mean ‘that’s all’?! How hard was the shot?”

“Not sure on the exact number,” He tries to joke, bringing his hand up to cradle your jaw in his calloused palm, “I’m okay, I promise. I’ll be good as new before you know it.

His thumb caresses the apex of your cheek as you look up at him through your lashes, his gaze soft and reassuring as worry swims in your own. His other hand moved from your lower back to your hip, giving the flesh a gentle squeeze as his head dips down to place a short yet sweet kiss to your lips. 

“Let’s go lay down,” He mumbles against your lips, “ ‘M tired.”

“Fine,” You hum, letting him take your hand and carefully pull you to the bedroom, “Just know you’re not getting off that easy.”

“I didn’t plan on it,” He shakes his head in amusement, “I don’t want to either.”

Your face heats up at his slight innuendo, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you slip through the doorway. Nico drops your hand to move towards his dresser, opening the second drawer to find a pair of shorts while you move over to your side of the bed. You can hear him shuffling around as you plug your phone in and pull the blankets back to crawl into bed, but you don’t pay him any mind until you’re finally comfortable in your spot.

When you let your attention fall back to him, your eyes land on his right leg that was splotched with a mixture of purples and reds that took up nearly the entire expanse of the outside of his thigh. Nico hears the sharp intake of your breath, his eyes instantly being drawn towards you in a brief rush of panic until he realizes what you’re looking at.

“It looks worse than it feels,” He attempts to soothe your worries, hastily stepping into his shorts before he carefully slips into the spot next to you.

“You said you just blocked a shot! That looks like you took an entire weight plate to the thigh,” You raise your voice, straightening all the way up so you’re closer to his level.

“I did just block a shot,” He explains, turning his entire body towards you with a nervous smile, “A ninety-five mile per hour slapshot.”

“I’m gonna kill those stupid Oilers,” You scoff in disbelief.

Nico can’t help but let out a quiet chuckle before he says, “They got their punishment as a loss, don’t worry. Now, c’mere.”

He pats his uninjured thigh, causing your eyes to widen and your head to shake in apprehension. The last thing you wanted to do was cause him any further pain or discomfort, even if he was technically asking you to do it. He can see the hesitation on your face, so he swiftly angles himself further so that he can grab your hips and pull you onto his thigh himself.

“Hey,” You yelp, your hands flying to Nico’s shoulders to keep yourself upright, “Be careful!”

“I told you I’m fine,” He stresses, his thumbs slipping under your shirt to tenderly brush against your skin, “Plus, nothing’s going to stop me from havin’ my girl in my lap.”

“You’ll tell me if it starts to hurt,” You demand with raised brows, slowly leaning towards him.

He only hums in response, his eyes flicking down to your lips before he uses his hold to bring your mouth crashing onto his own. The tips of your fingers are digging into his shoulder to steady yourself as you kiss him like you hadn’t seen him in weeks. His mouth works against your own, his hands methodically pushing your hips down to subtly grind you down on his thigh. A gasp tumbles from your lips, your head falling backwards in pleasure as he begins to quicken your pace against him.

He attaches his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin before he utters, “Gonna show you just how fine I am.”

[starlightsuffered]

Professor Chalamet

Warnings - Teacher and student (duh), oral (male and female receiving), secret relationship, spanking, name calling, needing to be quiet. Unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of masturbation, dirty talk

“That is the meaning behind the character of Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, you are dismissed,” Professor Chalamet said.

“Except for you Y/N,” he called to me. I gulped. Was today finally the day that he picked up on the not so subtle hints I’d been dropping?

Drama 101 had been interesting since the first morning I walked in, and saw Professor Chalamet. He was gorgeous. Piercing hazel eyes, sharp cheekbones, decadent curly hair. I was in heaven. I felt very happy that I’d arrived early out of anxiety. The two of us had, had a very nice conversation. Since then I’d made the very pornoesque decision, to get his attention.

He was just so damn stoic and calm. It seemed like nothing phased him. He never reacted. The semester was almost over, and I had no idea if I’d seen him again. I had to make a bold move. Our final was turning in a script for a short film. Our rough drafts had been due last week. I’d handed him “The Professor’s Secret.” A story about a Professor fucking his student. I’d even been so courageous as to name the Professor, Professor Chardonnay.

I was shaking with anticipation as I approached his desk. Students filed out of the classroom, giving me pitying looks. They didn’t understand this was all I wanted. I shivered as I remembered the door locked itself when you went out.

“Y/n,” Professor Chalamet called my attention back to him. I walked slowly to his desk. I made sure to swish my hips slightly. I was wearing a tiny, pink, skater skirt, and a white button down. I had dressed up just for him, and I desperately wanted him to know it.

“What is this?” He asked calmly, holding up my script.

“My rough draft sir,” I said politely. He ran a hand over his face, and when I looked at him again, I was shocked. The anger on his face was real and cold. Usually, he was all smiles and gentle words. This was different.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” He asked menacingly. This was going wrong, completely and utterly wrong. He was truly angry. What would he do? Would he tell the school board? Would I get kicked out? Fuck, why did I let my pussy do all the thinking? Now there’s going to be a Fox News segment about me.

“Can you even comprehend how many times I’ve read this? How I’ve poured over it? I’ve cum so many times from this alone, it is haunting me,” he explained desperately. My world was spinning at hearing him talk like this. Thinking of him cumming to just my writing was mesmerizing. Imagine what I could do to him with my real self.

“What are you saying Professor?” I asked coyly as I walked closer to him slowly.

“Do you know how many papers I’ve neglected, to read this again and again?” He growled.

“Maybe you should punish me,” I suggested.

He looked at me for a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose with a pained look.

“I’ve tried my damndest this semester to not give into carnal pleasures. My resistance is reaching it breaking point.”

“What if I want it to break?” I asked. I slowly, slowly, lowered myself to my knees in from of him. “What if I want to help it break.”

“Holy Hell,” he gasped. “You can’t tell anyone about this, not anyone you understand? Not a friend, not a sister or brother.”

“Oh stop,” I said squeezing his package. He shakily reached out to grab his desk.

“I want this as much as you do, why would I ruin the fun?”

He nodded, and unzippered his pants for me. My eyes bulged at his impressive length, and my mouth was watering. I took him in as far as I could go. I moaned as I felt his hand pulling on my hair. I sucked at him, moving up and down his cock. My spit was dripping down my chin, and onto the floor, but I wanted so badly to be good for him.

“Off,” he commanded, and I whined as he removed his cock from me.

I stood up and he kissed me roughly, hands massaging my breasts that were still clothed. One of his hands went down to grab handfuls of my ass.

“Do you wear those slutty little outfits for me everyday?” He asked, after he’d pulled away

“Yes, for you, all for you.”

“So, you’re just fine with distracting your Professor, while he’s trying to make a living,” he growled.

“Did it work?” I asked.

“You little minx,” he pushed me away from him. He cleared a section of him desk, and pushed me down on it. He pushed up my skirt, and pulled down my thong. He hissed as he saw the wet patch he’d made me create.

“I’m getting my ruler, you stay there,” he demanded. I did as I was told, lightly rubbing my thighs together for some sort of friction.

I heard the slap of the ruler on his hand as he approached me. I shivered with anticipation.

“You deserve punishment. Only bad girls rile up their professors in class, only bad girls write such filthy scripts.”

A smack came down on my ass and I stifled a cry. He instantly was massaging the red skin.

“Were you worried I wasn’t noticing the way you whored yourself out to me every class?”

Smack! Another blow had landed on my ass. I was loving the mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Please Professor, may I have another?” I asked desperately.

“No, only good students get what they want,” he replied and there was no slap from the ruler. However, in seconds I was struggling not to scream out. He had gone under me, spread my legs, and was now devouring my heat with an expert tongue. I let out a mewl of pleasure and he stopped.

“Don’t make a sound, slut, then everyone will know our secret.”

“Yes, Professor Chalamet,” I choked out. He continued to bless me with his tongue. I was nearing my orgasm. He stopped for a moment, and bit the skin of my inner thigh before returning to his task. I’m seconds I was coming undone, thighs clamping around his head with the effort not to scream.

He walked around so he was in front of me. My slick coated his face, and he wore it like a badge of honor. I was panting, sweat dripping down my temples.

“Like that did you?” He asked with a smirk.

“A+,” I gasped. He chuckled, moving so he was behind me again.

“I hope that was enough to get you ready for me,” he said.

“More than enough, please fill me,” I begged. He pressed his tip to my entrance, and slowly pushed in. I relished how long it took him to bottom out inside me.

“Do you know how long I’ve imagined this,” he asked as he began to snap his hips forward. I couldn’t form the words to answer. My eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

“How many times I’ve wanted to cancel class and just have you in every way possible?”

I groaned, nails making marks in his wooden desk. I pressed my ass back to meet his thrusts and he let out a moan of approval.

“I know you thought the same of me. The way you’d eye fuck me from across the room was almost too much to handle. Did you go back to your dorm after and touch yourself? Did you play with your pretty pussy to the thought of me y/n?”

“Yes,” it took all I had not to scream.

“I have an alternate ending for your script,” he told me as he reached around to play with my clit. I bit down hard on my hand, it was the only way to keep silent. The only things to hear in the room was the wet sounds of us and his low, whispered, filthy words.

“What?“ I managed to asked.

“I think the Professor should fuck his naughty student, that part can stay. But I think he should fill her everyday, every free period. She should be bursting with him. She would walk around campus so full of him that it’s leaking down her thighs.”

“Fuck,” I said against my hand. I knew I would leave deep teeth marks there.

“Wouldn’t it be delicious if she got pregnant? She wouldn’t be able to tell anyone whose cum she was carrying around. No one would know who bred her cunt so well that she was completely full. She would have to keep it undercover as he filled her over and over.”

“I can’t,” I gasped, and I was tumbling into a orgasm filled with shining stars and white hot pleasure. I couldn’t contain myself and Professor Chalamet had to clap his hand over my mouth, yet he continued to rub circles on my pulsating clit

“You want my cum? Im going to fill you,” he moaned as I continued to squeeze around him. He spilled into me, rope after rope of cum pumping into me.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath as he pulled out. I felt some of him spill out of me onto the floor.

“You are to have tutoring session with me every day of the school week, do I make myself clear?” He demanded.

“Yes Professor Chalamet,” I said with giddy joy.

“Call me Timothée.”

[clockwayswrites]

Danny/Jason, Catharsis

@roanawayspoons cw: blood

Jason watched the floor of the gym from behind his helmet. It was mostly empty at this time of the morning: late enough that the night owls were in bed but early enough that the early birds were still asleep. The last two who have been using the treadmills were shoving each other, laughing as they headed out.

That just left Jason, who knew he wouldn’t sleep that night, and the new guy.

That was a little unfair. The guy had been here for a few months already and others had joined after him, but no one knew him. He went by Puck, threw a mean punch, was good with kids and prostitutes, and kept to himself.

Tonight he seemed determined to break a punching bag open.

Slam.

The bag swung back and Puck dodged, light on his feet— lighter than he should be with how sloppy his footwork was.

Slam.

Puck shook his head, sweat flying. He had come in with his head shaved to nothing, but it was growing back in now, coming in mostly white with a swath of black along the bottom.

Slam.

The smear of blood was bright on the cream of the bag. Puck’s hands were wrapped, but he’d long ago worn through them.

Jason locked the doors before he stepped up and stopped the heavy bag from swinging.

Puck took a step back, but didn’t drop his stance. Smart.

“In the ring,” Jason ordered, not trying to soften the way it came out through the modulation of the helmet.

Puck gave a jerky nod and did as he was told. He slipped easily between the ropes. He really was a small thing, but the muscles wrapped around him like steel wire now. Jason had to pull the ropes apart to move into the ring himself. He rolled his shoulders back, shifted his feet, and motioned for Puck to come at him.

He really was quick as a whip, but Jason had fought better and blocked easily. And kept blocking. And blocking. And blocking.

“Fight me!” Puck yelled.

Jason stayed quiet and kept blocking.

“Fight me!” Puck’s punches lost their form, the next swing went wild.

Jason caught the fist, fingers wrapping easily around Puck’s too thin wrist.

Puck snarled, sharp teeth bared with the feral sound. For a moment Jason was sure that Puck was going to try to bite him, but instead the snarl stuttered and faltered into a keening sound.

With a sharp tug, Jason pulled Puck off balance. Puck’s free hand shot out to catch himself against Jason’s chest. Jason twisted them, pinning Puck against him with an iron tight arm. And Puck howled. He kicked and screamed and thrashed and snarled.

Jason stroked his thumb along the inside line of Puck’s wrist, ignoring the way the blood from Puck’s abused knuckles smeared with the gentle motion.

The snarling turned to keening again turned to body shaking sobs. Puck stopped fighting. Slowly Jason brought them to the mat, cradling Puck carefully the whole way. Puck felt so fragile, so small, as Jason tucked him into a tight hold in his lap. He let the wrist go, running fingers through the short white hair.

Puck just cried and Jason let him, let him get it all— what ever ghosts haunted him— out in a wail that cut Jason to the bones.

“You’re safe,” Jason murmured. He didn’t know if that was true, not really, but in the moment it was, and Jason could make sure it stayed that way. “I have you, you’re safe.”

[nerdraging4point0]

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

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.

Taglist(click to be added): @ladyveronikawrites @poisongirl616 @shilohrosechicken @th0ughts-pr4yers @meliferafaerie @curse-bearing-hips @letmeadoreyoux @transparentwitchnightmare @darling-millicent-aubrey @moranastray @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @collective-heartbreak @littlefoxkota @somebodyels3 @thisbicc @jakeygvf21 @cind6547 @lma1986 @loeytuan98 @xxkittenkissesxx @darkmxgician @sammyjoeee @malerieee @embracethereaper42 @nerdywitch20 @graveatspeople @sacredthefran @dominuslunae @skulliecadaver-blog @anameunmusical @thatchickwiththecamera @missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @lilrubles @iknownothingpeople @talialovesmiw @deathofpeaceofmiiind @shaydayhere @wild-child-7747

Despite having no obligations or reasons to rise early, I find myself waking before dawn, a nagging sense of unfinished business rousing me from slumber. I rummage through the cluttered closet, pushing aside the detritus of my old life to unearth a relic from simpler times: my pristine white ice skates, barely used since training gave way to textbooks and 12-hour shifts. Running my fingers over the smooth leather, I marvel that they have waited so patiently while life pulled me away. I dress in fleece leggings and a sweater as I grab my purse and head to the car. 

The rink should be empty, the guys left around four this morning, as I pull into the parking lot it’s already six. I see some of the players' cars parked in the garage as I head to the elevator to enter the rink. The lights are on, but that’s to be expected, with the team gone, deep clean can commence. Yet as I walk through the quiet, empty halls of the arena, the familiar sounds of hockey emanate from the rink ahead. The rhythmic slapping of a composite stick striking a frozen puck echoes down the corridor. Scraping, swishing - the nostalgic melody of steel blades carving arcs across the freshly resurfaced ice. I push through the heavy wooden doors and gaze out at the rink. There before me a solitary figure glides smoothly about the ice, stickhandling a puck through an intricate array of cones.

Noah isn't in a uniform, just his athletic wear and skates, simple winter gloves on his hand as he skates around. The cold air nips at my cheeks as I observe him gliding effortlessly across the smooth, glassy ice. He looks so graceful and at ease, carving gentle curves with each push of his skates. I suddenly wonder if I should continue with my plan. It's been years since I've set foot on the ice. The last time I tried skating I clung desperately to the wall, my ankles wobbling with each tentative stride. I was that bumbling, awkward beginner all over again. What if I make a fool of myself out there? What if I slip and stumble repeatedly in front of Noah, struggling just to stay upright while he floats by with poised confidence? The thought makes me hesitate. I don't want to embarrass myself or look incompetent compared to Noah's natural skill.

"What are you doing here?" I call across the rink, seeing him turn and find me by the benches. He pushes the puck back and forth between his stick, the repetitive motion seeming to soothe his obvious frustration.

 "Medics benched me for two games, to make sure my shoulder isn't seriously injured," he responds, and I can hear the pain in his voice - not physical, but emotional. Being forced to sit out is agonizing for any athlete, but especially for someone as passionate and competitive as him. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been to watch his teammates head off without him this morning, their bus pulling away as he stood there, barred from joining them.

“Why are you here?” he ponders the question to me and I feel my cheeks go red as I stammer a response. 

“Came to um-um-skate. But I didn’t expect…it’s okay, I’ll go.” I turn to leave. But I hear the hard scrape of blades on ice as Noah skates to the wall close enough to me I can smell the scent of his body wash from his shower. 

“Where you going? Let’s see what you got, little fox.” I feel my heart race and my palms grow sweaty as Noah's intense gaze bores into me. His muscular frame towers over me, broad shoulders and chiseled torso accentuated by his tight black shirt. I'm frozen in place, mesmerized by his masculine beauty and commanding presence.

“Lace up. Get out here." he teases as he skates out to the rink, picking up the cones he'd laid out. I am not sure what propels me but I do as he says, slipping into the leather slippers and double knotting the laces. I stand on the blades feeling the unusual balance of them as I take long steps to the ice. The blades touch the ice and suddenly I'm wobbling on my knees as one hand grips the wall and the other wraps around myself trying desperately to hide the embarrassment. The empty ice rink echoes with each scrape of his skates as he circles me like a predator stalking prey.

I tentatively step onto the icy surface, the razor-sharp blades beneath my feet gliding smoothly at first. But as I push off, my ankles wobble precariously, threatening to tip me face-first onto the cold, unforgiving ice. I flail my arms, grasping for something, anything to steady myself. My hand finds the wall just in time, saving me from a humiliating fall. Meanwhile, he is gliding effortlessly around the perimeter, his strong strides propelling him forward with ease. I watch enviously as he picks up speed, the toes of his skates carving graceful arcs into the glossy surface. My own skates feel awkward and foreign beneath me, the thin blades clacking loudly with each uneasy step. I wrap my free arm around my middle, trying in vain to conceal my evident lack of skill. This was a mistake. I never should have let him goad me out here. 

Noah skates around me, effortlessly turning his feet outwards to slow himself before sliding to a smooth stop, sending ice shavings scattering across the glossy surface of the rink. He looks back at me with a playful smile, taking in my awkward, shaky form as I struggle to maintain my balance on the slippery ice. I clutch the wall, my legs stiff and tense, my movements rigid and unstable. Noah glides back over to me, the blades of his skates slicing rhythmic patterns into the ice, and holds out his gloved hands, wiggling his fingers invitingly. "Here," he says, his voice warm and reassuring.

I eye his outstretched hands warily, hesitating. A painful memory surfaces of myself as an awkward thirteen year old girl, when a boy in skating class had offered to help me up, only to let go and trip me instead. I had fallen hard on the unforgiving ice, the wind knocked out of me, my pride injured far more than my body. I had never forgotten that humiliating experience, and since then, I harshly refused any offer of help when trying to skate, not trusting anyone to not let me fall.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Noah grumbles, breaking me out of my bitter recollections. Not waiting for me to decide, he takes my hands firmly in his, enveloping my fingers in the soft wool of his gloves. Then he begins skating backwards, pulling me along with him, his strokes smooth and steady. My legs tremble violently, overtaken by the fear of falling and I cling to his hands for dear life, as if I'm moments from plunging to my death. My ankles wobble and feet slip on my first few strides, struggling to find my balance. But Noah's graceful momentum carries us, and slowly I feel my legs begin to glide in sync with his, my rigid muscles easing. My confidence builds as Noah patiently guides me around the rink, the ice smoothly passing beneath me.

“I figured the coach’s daughter would know how to skate.” he teased. I rolled my eyes at his assumption that just because my dad was the hockey coach, I would naturally be an expert skater myself. Sure, growing up as the coach's daughter, I had spent countless hours at the rink, watching practices and games from the stands. And yes, I had even taken some basic skating lessons as a kid. But that was years ago now, and so much had changed since then.

“It’s been a while,” I countered, “I had other things going on.”

“Let me guess,” he looked at the white leather of my skates and smiled, “Figure skating.” 

“Nope. Just lessons.” The truth was, once I hit high school, skating had faded into the background. I became absorbed in academics, friendships, and other activities that didn't involve blades on my feet and cold rinks. Sure, I had taken some recreational lessons here and there to appease my dad, but nothing stuck. “Dad really wasn’t a fan of figure skating, some unspoken rivalry with Hockey I think.” 

My hold on Noah’s hands relaxed as we glided hand-in-hand across the ice rink, my fingers barely holding onto his gloved hands anymore. As we swayed our hips in unison, Noah gently turned our wrists, overlaying our hands before interlacing our fingers together. His soft yet firm grip provided a sense of security and balance as he led us around the rink, periodically looking back over his shoulder to navigate and ensure we wouldn't crash.

“And mom?” 

“Mom wasn’t, the mom type.” I confessed with a sigh.  I felt a familiar pang of sadness in my chest at the thought, dropping my head a little in shame. Noah raised an eyebrow, prompting me to reluctantly explain further. “Divorce. Just before I was twelve. Mom moved down to Florida with her new boyfriend, got the occasional birthday card then silence.” 

“I get that,” Noah nodded in understanding, releasing our clasped hands so we could skate shoulder-to-shoulder, my legs now gliding on their own as we lazily circled the rink.

"Your mom too?" I asked gently. 

"Dad," he replied tersely. "Wasn't the dad type. Mom did her best, but I lost her." His words sank in, my own petty grievances seeming trivial in comparison. While my mother may have been absent, at least she was still living. Noah had no one left, both parents gone, leaving him truly alone in the world. A swell of empathy rose within me, along with a new appreciation for the family I still had, dysfunctional as we may be.

As we glide, our skates' soft swish and measured breathing form a quiet harmony. All too soon, our wordless waltz comes to an end. I make my way to the bench on rubbery legs, fumbling with the laces and easing my numb feet from the rigid boots. Noah gathers his stick and returns to his solitary target practice, slapping puck after puck into the empty net with a methodical rhythm. The sharp crack of composite meeting vulcanized rubber echoes through the cavernous arena. I watch him for a moment, marveling at his self-contained focus. Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I turn to leave, savoring the lingering chill on my cheeks. But then his voice stops me - that gentle tenor tone that never fails to make me shiver.

"Sarah," he says, my name emerging soft as a caress from his lips. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

[jackethockey]

heaven | adam fantilli

Summary - In this romantic story, you, a devoted fan of the Columbus Blue Jackets, encounter star player Adam Fantilli after a practice session, sparking an unexpected connection. What begins as a shy request for an autograph turns into a secret, whirlwind romance. Drawn together by a magnetic attraction, you and Adam navigate the challenges of hiding your love from the public eye, sharing stolen moments away from the media and team. As your bond deepens, Adam eventually asks you to make your relationship official, leading to a life-changing commitment. Through shared laughter, hidden dates, and heartfelt promises, your love transforms from a quiet infatuation into a profound partnership, becoming a refuge from the pressures of his high-profile career. This story captures the intensity and excitement of finding love in the most unexpected places, forever changing both your lives.

Warnings - smut (kissing, stripping, oral f! receiving.) fluff 

If I'da been God, I woulda made Heaven

Feel something like you

Adam Fantilli, the dashing forward for the Columbus Blue Jackets, had just finished a grueling practice session at the Nationwide Arena. As he headed toward the locker room, his eyes caught your gaze lingering by the exit. You, a shy and devoted admirer of the team, had scored a rare opportunity to meet the players up close. Your heart pounded as you watched him approach, his sweat-drenched jersey clinging to his tall, muscular frame. You had seen him play countless times, but never had you been this close to the object of your secret crush.

As he neared, you felt a sudden jolt of courage, and before you knew it, he was standing right in front of him. With a shaky voice, you managed to ask for an autograph, hoping this brief interaction would be enough to satisfy the butterflies in your stomach. Little did you know, this chance encounter would ignite an unforgettable romance, one that would take you on a passionate journey filled with love, desire, and the thrill of keeping a relationship hidden from the public eye.

Adam looked up from his skates, noticing your trembling hand and hopeful gaze. He couldn’t help but be drawn in by your beauty, something different from the usual so-called “puck bunnies”  that swarmed around the players. He took the pen and jersey you offered with a smile that could melt ice.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice deep and gentle.

As you whispered your name, his eyes searched yours, and in that moment, a silent connection passed between you. He scribbled his signature across the fabric, his hand lingering just a little too long. When he handed the jersey back, your fingers brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm.

He lingered for a second as if contemplating saying more, before giving you a wink and a nod.

“See you ‘round,” he said before disappearing into the locker room, leaving you breathless and wondering if you had just imagined the heat in his gaze. 

Days turned into weeks, and the memory of that electric touch lingered in your mind. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more between you and Adam Fantilli than just a casual fan-player interaction. You found yourself at every home game, hoping for another glimpse of him, another chance to feel the spark that had set your heart ablaze. It was during one of these games that fate took a hand, and Adam scored the winning goal in a nail-biting overtime victory. As he skated over to the bench, he looked up into the crowd, and for a fleeting second, it seemed like his eyes searched for yours.

You held your breath, your heart racing as he raised his stick in a salute. Was it just a coincidence, or did he actually see you? The question remained unanswered, but it fueled your hope. Little did you know that Adam had noticed you and the attraction was mutual. He had asked his teammates about the beautiful fan with the enchanting smile, and they had passed on the message. Soon, an unexpected invitation arrived, inviting you to join him for a private dinner under the guise of discussing potential partnerships for his charity foundation. The excitement bubbled inside you as you accepted, knowing deep down that this was the moment your quiet infatuation might just become a reality. As you prepared for the evening, you couldn’t help but wonder what the night had in store, and if it was the beginning of something much more intimate and passionate than either of you could have ever anticipated.

The night of the dinner arrived, and you found yourself standing outside the elegant restaurant, nerves fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird. You took a deep breath, smoothed your dress, and stepped inside. Adam was already there, waiting for you at a candlelit table in the corner. The moment he saw you, his eyes lit up, and the tension between you was palpable. The conversation flowed effortlessly, a mix of laughter and shared stories about the love of the game, and it was clear that the chemistry between you was undeniable. As dessert was served, his hand found its way to yours, sending a shiver down your spine. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered,

“You know, I’ve been thinking about you a lot since that day at the arena.”

His confession hung in the air, a secret shared only by the two of you amidst the bustling restaurant. You felt a blush creep up your neck as you squeezed his hand, unable to put into words the tumult of emotions swirling inside. The touch of his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand was all the response he needed. The evening stretched on, filled with shared glances and lingering touches, until the restaurant began to empty and the air grew thick with the promise of what was to come. As you left the restaurant, Adam pulled you aside, his gaze intense and searching.

“Come back to my place?” he asked, and without a second thought, you nodded.

You both knew that this was the moment you had both been waiting for, the point of no return that would lead to a night of passion and the unraveling of a love that was meant to be.

With anticipation building, you followed Adam to his luxurious downtown apartment, the quiet hum of the city acting as a backdrop to your racing thoughts. Once inside, the tension between you grew as he led you through the dimly lit hallway and into a cozy living room. The warm glow of the fireplace danced in his eyes as he took your coat, revealing the curve of your shoulders. He offered you a drink, his hands lingering on your waist, and you accepted, your hand trembling slightly as you clinked glasses. The conversation grew softer, more intimate, as you sat down on the plush couch, the distance between you shrinking with each shared sip. Adam’s hand found its way to yours again, and you felt the heat of his skin as he intertwined your fingers. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss that spoke volumes of the desire that had been simmering since that fateful encounter at the arena. It was a kiss that promised a night of unbridled passion and the beginning of a love story that would unfold behind closed doors, shielded from the glaring spotlight of his fame. As your bodies grew closer, your hearts beating in sync, you realized that the lines between fan and lover had blurred, and you had become the muse to the Blue Jackets’ Golden Boy. 

As the kiss deepened, Adam’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him as your hands explored the contours of his muscular chest. His touch was firm yet tender, and his scent—a tantalizing mix of sweat and cologne —was intoxicating. You melted into him, your body responding instinctively to his embrace. Your kisses grew more urgent, tongues intertwining as you tasted the sweetness of victory and desire. As you broke away for a moment, panting and breathless, Adam whispered, “I want you,” his voice a low growl of passion. You nodded, unable to resist the allure of this moment. His hand found yours as he stood, a silent invitation to lead you to his bedroom, where the soft glow of the city lights spilled in through the windows, casting a romantic haze over the scene.

The room was filled with the scent of him, and as you lay down on the bed, you could feel the thrill of the unknown and the excitement of what was to come. As he moved to hover over you, his hands roamed over your body, peeling away layers of clothing as if revealing the secrets of your soul. His kisses grew more insistent, leaving a trail of fire along your neck and collarbone. 

As your bodies entwined on the bed, Adam's strong hands traced the curves of your hips, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. The heat between you was palpable, and you could feel the weight of his desire pressing against you. With a gentle touch, he began to unbutton your dress, his eyes never leaving yours. Each button released was a declaration of intent, a silent promise of the passion that was about to unfold. The fabric fell away, revealing the softness of your skin, and his eyes darkened with hunger.

He kissed you again, his hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking gently over the peak of your nipple. A shiver of pleasure shot through you, and you arched into his touch. The sound of fabric sliding against skin filled the room as your dress pooled around your waist. His eyes roamed over your exposed skin, a look of wonder and lust mingling in his gaze. He leaned down, capturing a nipple with his mouth, the sensation sending a bolt of desire straight to your core. You gripped the sheets, knuckles a soft white as you became overwhelmed by the sensations of Adam's skilled hands and mouth exploring your body. His touch was confident but not rushed, savoring every inch as if he had been waiting for this moment for a lifetime.

You felt yourself slipping further under his spell, the line between reality and fantasy blurring as his kisses grew more urgent, and your bodies moved in a dance as old as time. The air was thick with lust and love, and you knew that this night was going to be the start of a love affair that would defy all expectations and change the course of both your lives forever.

With a need that had grown to be insatiable, Adam's mouth traveled down your body, leaving a trail of kisses and light nips that sent shockwaves of pleasure through you. He groaned appreciatively, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you. With trembling hands, he removed the last barriers between you, and you felt his warm skin against yours for the first time. His touch grew more urgent as he kissed his way down your stomach, pausing to kiss your navel before moving lower. Your breath hitched as his mouth found the apex of your thighs, his tongue teasing and exploring as you writhed beneath him.

His fingers danced over your sensitive skin, bringing you closer to the edge with each stroke until you were begging for more. He looked up, a wicked smile playing on his lips, and whispered, "I want to hear you…” And with that, he plunged his tongue into the depths of you, setting off a wave of pleasure that crashed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. This was just the beginning of a night that would leave you both breathless and forever entwined in a passion that neither of you had ever experienced before.

In the weeks that followed, you and Adam found yourselves drawn together by an invisible force, your connection deepening with each secret rendezvous. Stolen kisses in the shadows and whispered promises grew into something more substantial—a bond that transcended the rink and the glitz of the NHL. You began to explore the city of Columbus together, sharing quiet moments away from the prying eyes of the media and adoring fans. Your dates grew more intimate, filled with laughter, shared confessions, and a passion that burned brighter with each passing day. Adam, known for his stoic demeanor on the ice, revealed a gentle, caring side to you that left you feeling cherished and desired. You blossomed under his attention, confidence growing as you realized you had captured the heart of the man who had once been just a distant crush.

As your relationship grew stronger, so did the need to protect it from the scrutiny of the outside world. You both agreed to keep your romance hidden, sharing your love in the sanctuary of his apartment or in secret getaways that only you knew about. The thrill of your clandestine meetings added an extra layer of excitement to your budding love, making every touch, every kiss, every shared glance feel like a precious stolen moment. Adam was careful not to let his guard down around his teammates, and you mastered the art of blending into the background at games, watching him. 

Eventually, the time came when you could no longer hide your love. After a particularly grueling season, Adam took a chance and introduced you to the world as his girlfriend. The revelation sent shockwaves through the hockey community, but you and Adam faced the onslaught with grace and a united front. You attended games and events together, your affection for each other was clear for all to see, and the public quickly fell in love with the sweet, devoted fan who had captured the heart of their favorite player.

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 12: Reunion

It's been years, but the Mandalorian would know you anywhere. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-11 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Mention of DV, mention of attempted SA. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+

Length: 5k

9 ABY - Present Day

Din managed to stay away from you for three months.

He let his work swallow him up, taking every puck offered to him. No price was too low, any job that would keep him from realizing how empty his ship was without you in it was worth doing. He kept thinking it would get easier. He hadn’t been with you all that long, after all. You’d barely been friends, not really. But you were always there, some biting comment or teasing smile or kind touch suddenly acutely absent. 

Time, he thought, would fix it. Time and hunting every bounty he could get his hands on. 

It didn’t work. 

So it was only three months before he found himself back on Dantooine, going back to the coordinates you’d given him, landing outside your family’s home before being greeted by the kind but confused face of the woman who lived there. 

She invited him in, gave him her name - Aidla - offered him a drink and food but he turned her down. 

“So,” she said, pleasantries out of the way. “Can I ask what brings you by?” 

“I was… in the area,” he said, trying find a way to ask what he wanted to ask. “I thought I would see how Liska was doing. Is she here?” 

Aidla smiled sadly, a knowing look in her eye. He was reminded of you for what had to be the 20th time that day. 

“I’m sorry but no, she’s not,” she leaned forward, putting her hand on his arm. “She’s married now, living on the other side of the planet.” 

Din froze. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears. Married. You couldn’t be married. He’d seen you just months ago - he’d touched you, felt you come apart in his arms just months ago. You’d never mentioned anyone, you couldn’t be married… 

“It was arranged,” she gave his arm a gentle pat before she sat back in her seat. “It will help her blend in. But he’s a good man, they have a home in the country. It’s a simple, quiet life but…” 

He nodded slowly. Part of him wanted to find you. He could, if he tried. It wouldn’t even take him long, he could be at your door in a day - maybe just hours if he got lucky. 

But that would be selfish. The night before the fight in Bisneth, you’d told Keci you wanted something simple, quiet. You wanted peace. What was he going to offer you? A life of hunting bail jumpers through the galaxy? A place where you’d be shot and hurt and need to resort to the skills you resented so deeply? All because he missed touching you, missed watching how your brilliant mind worked? No. He wasn’t going to take this from you. 

“She cared for you, I think,” Aidla said after a moment. She looked down at the cup of tea in her hands. “I’d never met her before you brought her here but… there’s a lot of her mother in her. I think she cared for you very deeply.” 

Din was silent, digging his fingers into his gloved palm. 

“I can tell her you came by,” she said eventually.

“Don’t,” he said quickly. “I don’t want to disrupt her life here. I just wanted to know… how she was.” 

He started visiting Aidla and her husband, Tam, every few months. Each time he was hoping you might be there, visiting, while also hoping he wouldn’t see you so he wouldn’t have to explain himself. You were never there. But she told him that you were doing well. Tam saw you every few months when he met with your husband for trading. He usually came home with a letter, which Aidla shared with Din. You wrote about walking the countryside, asked for recipes your mother used to make you as a girl, criticized recent moves by the New Republic. He could almost see your face, hear your voice as he read your words. None of it seemed to ease the ache and longing inside him. 

More than two years after he’d left you on Dantooine, he landed at Aidla’s but found the place abandoned. It was clear no one had been there in more than two months, their fields overgrown and thick layers of dust clinging to the tea set Aidla always took down when she offered him the tea that he always politely refused. 

He went see their neighbors and asked after them, but it was only bad news. Aidla and Tam had both died - a speeder accident in Dantoo Town. 

Din trudged back to the Razor Crest and sat there, staring straight ahead, until the sun set and he realized he’d just been looking into nothing. He’d grown to like Aidla and Tam, Aidla in particular. She was the last, tenuous link he had to you. Now you were really, truly gone. He seriously considered, one last time, tracking you. But he pictured you, happy in your peaceful and quiet life, and got ready to leave Dantooine for the last time.

Before he left, he went inside their home and found your letters, bringing them aboard his ship. Once he’d jumped to the next destination, he pulled off his gloves and removed his helmet, holding the pages you’d once held, reading words you’d written without a mask between you. 

It seemed you haunted him even more after that. He’d catch a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye in crowded markets, hear some reflection of you when someone near him said something equally infuriating and insightful. It was as though his loose connection with you had kept you at bay and without it, the lack of you was going to drown him. 

When he took the bounty for the child, the only reason he’d stayed in a room filled with Imps is that he thought, for a moment, the bounty would be you. If he had a reason to track you, that would be different. He’d have to find you then, protect you or at least warn you. Instead, it was the kid. 

He knew you’d have never left the child with Imperials. It made him sick that he had, even for a bit. If you’d been there, you’d have taken off with him immediately. Maker, by now, you’d have probably figured out some language to speak with him, established a clear line of communications and a deep understanding with the little guy. 

So when he and the child were lying low on Garqi, he wasn’t surprised when a Naboo blaster caught his eye as he passed a weapons resale stand. He stopped for a moment, looking at it. He remembered you pressing one just like it into his chest the day he’d left you behind. 

“How much?” He asked the man working the stand. 

“Haven’t had a chance to price it yet,” he said, hardly glancing at the weapon. “Just bought it off a girl this morning but I got a deal on it. I’ll let it go for 750.” 

“This morning?” Din asked, pulling out the credits without bothering to barter. He handed them over and the man handed him the weapon. 

“Aye,” he nodded once. “She was impatient, that one. Seemed ready to be on her way.” 

“Do you know where I could find her?” He asked. The man behind the counter frowned at him. “I just have an interest in pieces from Naboo. I’d want to buy more, if she has it.” 

“She didn’t look like she was from around here,” he shrugged after a moment, going back to cleaning a blaster. “Looked like she’d gotten into it with some folks she shouldn’t have, too, she was banged up. The cheapest beds are only a few clicks east, across from the brothel. She’d likely be there.” 

The Child cooed at Din’s hip. He gave the man a stiff nod and started off, sweeping the crowds, looking for you everywhere he passed. 

It was unlikely that it was you, he told himself. You were on Dantooine. You were married. You weren’t on your own, trying to navigate this Maker-foresaken galaxy with no one. It wouldn’t be you. So he wasn’t prepared when he caught sight of you, lugging a box outside a building and putting it with the trash. Your hair was shorter and you were thinner but it was you. 

He walked toward you like he was hypnotized. You didn’t look anywhere but the ground as you went back inside, you didn’t see him coming. When he made it in the door, the building was dim, barely clothed women strolling through the room. He frowned. What were you doing here? 

“A Mandalorian,” a woman said, slinking up and draping herself over Din’s chest. “Not often we get one of your kind.” 

“I’m looking for someone,” he said, looking down at her. “The woman who was just outside, where is she?” 

“Kelda?” She asked. Din had never heard the name, but nodded. The woman frowned. “I don’t have her working the floor, I’m sure there’s something I can interest you in…” 

“I’d like to speak with her,” he replied. She glanced around before leaning into his ear. 

“Look, I can take you to the back but I don’t want her on the floor until her face is healed,” she said. “It bothers the clients.” 

“I’ll pay,” he said, pulling out some credits. With that, she smiled, taking him by the hand and leading him through the bar. The Child shifted in the bag and Din tucked him down, covering his head with the flap. No need for him to see all this quite yet. 

The back was more brightly lit and even from behind, he recognized you. 

“Kelda,” the woman said. “Someone requested you.” 

“What?” He could hear the frown in your voice. It was such a familiar sound, even three years later. You turned to face him and froze, staring at him, your eyes wide. 

You looked different now, especially up close. Your hair was in a single braid that hung barely past your shoulders, the toned muscle from the training you’d done for years gone. Your face was almost gaunt and the remains of bruises were still there, yellowing, and there was a still healing cut on your cheek. He forced his hands to stay at his sides and not reach for you. 

“Didn’t know you knew a Mandalorian,” the woman said, looking at you with suspicion. Your eyes narrowed. 

“I don’t,” you replied, turning back to your work. “Never seen the man before in my life.” 

“Well, he paid for your time,” she shrugged. “Take care of him and then you can go.” 

You sighed but kept your back to him. The woman left and your fingers drummed the countertop in front of you. 

“So, what?” You asked, still facing the wall. You picked up something on the table and started cleaning it. “You have a thing for the help now? There’s a whole room of girls actually on the menu, you know, go bother one of them.” 

Din ignored your hostilities but kept his distance. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked 

“You’re in my sector,” you snapped. “We’re just a stone’s throw from Dantooine. What are you doing here?” 

“Why aren’t you on Dantooine?” He asked, moving closer. He couldn’t help it, you were right there. 

You flung the thing you were cleaning onto the counter, forcefully, and spun to face him. 

“I don’t know, Din,” you looked up at him, your eyes finding his immediately. A skill you hadn’t lost. The flesh around your eyes was discolored, healing. “What do you think? Take your best guess.” 

“Someone hurt you,” he said. He balled his hands into tight fists to keep from trying to touch you. 

“Good on you,” you pushed off the counter behind you, grabbing the piece you were cleaning - some bar tool, he guessed - and took it to a shelf to put it away. “Are we done here? Get your money’s worth?” 

“Can we go somewhere?” He asked, keeping his voice gentle. He still couldn’t believe that you were standing there, in front of him. Fully formed, not hints of you he imagined in every corner of the universe. “I’d like to talk with you.” 

“I’d rather not,” you replied. 

“Please,” he said. There was pleading and desperation in his voice. He didn’t care about hiding it. 

“Why do you care?” You asked, exasperated and tired. His head tilted, examining you. Did you really think he didn’t care? 

“I just do,” he said eventually. “Please. Let’s talk.” 

You crossed your arms, looking him up and down, before you sighed. 

“Fine,” you said. “There’s a cafe, four doors down from here. Tea’s decent. I’ll meet you there in an hour.” 

“Thank you,” he said, watching you. Your sharpened edges seemed softer as you looked back at him. It was like you were fighting to still hate him. 

He turned and left, making sure the kid was still tucked away in his bag, before heading to the cafe. 

There was a secluded booth in the corner and he took it, hoping it would be quiet enough that you felt free to talk. The child was getting fidgety, so he took him out of the bag and ordered him a bone broth from the waitress who was happily fawning over his long ears and large eyes. 

When the waitress got called away - after bringing two refills of bone broth - Din tucked the kid into the booth beside him, wanting to avoid drawing attention, and watched the door. You arrived sooner than he’d expected, giving the waitress a soft smile and a nod before finding his table. It was hard to stay seated. He wanted to stand up, touch you, pull you against him. Instead, you sat across from him, crossing your arms as you sat back in the booth, examining him. 

“So,” you said eventually, eyebrows raised. “I’m here. What do you want?” 

*** 

It’s not like you’d picked Garqi to be safe. You hadn’t actually picked Garqi at all, not really. It was the only place you could reach with the handful of credits you’d been able to access on your way out of your house, your husband unconscious and bleeding on the floor. You didn’t have time to pack, you just grabbed the data pad with the last of your life from Naboo - the pictures, the songs, the only things that remained of your family - your knife and the credits you could get to before stealing the speeder and running. 

No, Garqi hadn’t been a strategy. But it was so remote, you thought the chances of running into anyone you knew here was slim. You hadn’t expected to see the Mandalorian show up at the bar where you’d managed to beg your way into a job. The pay was barely enough to keep you afloat, a cheap bed at the inn across the way and a meal every other day so you could try to salt enough credits away to get a ticket to a midrim world. You needed distance between yourself and Dantooine, the sooner the better. After selling the blaster, you had almost enough to buy the credentials you’d need to get off world. But now, Din was here. 

Din, the man who’d all but haunted you for years. Every flash of metal, every modulated voice made you think of him. So did holochess boards and whiskey and the sound of blaster fire and the feeling you got when you climbed a tree to get closer to the sky. He was fucking everywhere all the damned time. Except now he was really here, looking at you from across a table. His eyes were ranging over you, you could feel them as they ran up your waist, arms, neck, face. You tried to resist the urge to hide your still healing face - bacta was definitely a luxury you couldn’t afford - and just let him look like you weren’t ashamed of it. 

“Well?” You raised your eyebrows, making your damaged skin pull uncomfortably. 

Before he had a chance to respond, a small, green hand appeared at the edge of the table. You frowned as a tiny, green creature with overwhelmingly large eyes and ears pulled itself onto the table. Din sighed. 

“Who’s this?” You asked, leaning forward, face and voice softening. The creature reached for you before toddling forward, its clawed hand outstretched. 

“Kid,” Din sighed, picking him up at the waist and pulling him into his lap. “We’re trying to have a conversation.” 

The creature cooed, looking up at Din. You cocked your head, looking at him. You’d never seen anything quite like it. When his dark eyes met yours, there was a twinge of curiosity in you. But it was… odd. The feeling wasn’t your own. It was coming from the tiny thing in the Mandalorian’s lap. 

“Oh, let him play,” Shura, the waitress, said, bringing you a cup of tea. “He’s not hurting anyone by being on the table top. Does he need more bone broth?” 

“Sure,” Din said, sighing as he set the creature on the table. It smiled at him before looking back at you, a spark of happiness reaching you this time. Shura cooed at him before leaving the table again. 

“Hi there,” you smiled at the creature, even though it still hurt your cheeks. He toddled for you, curious again, his hand out stretched. He touched your face, smiling as he explored your skin. You leaned forward and he grabbed your hair, giving it a firm tug. Satisfaction, this time. 

“OK kid,” the Mandalorian said, reaching across the table and picking him up, pulling him back into his chest. “We don’t want to hurt her.” 

“I don’t mind,” you said quickly. The creature looked back to you, cocking its little head, ears wiggling. 

“What… is it?” You asked, reaching a finger across the table. The creature reached out and took it, all three of its tiny fingers wrapping around the tip of yours. There was the foreign, outside feeling of satisfaction again when it made contact. 

“He’s a… quarry that went wrong,” Din said. “Kind of like you.” 

You laughed darkly for a moment. A quarry that went wrong. One way to describe it, you supposed. 

“I was a step down from a quarry, though,” you said. The child released your finger and looked back up at Din, the odd sensation of his feelings leaving with his gaze. How strange. You looked up at the Mandalorian. “I was just cargo that never happened, right?” 

Shura set the bone broth down in front of the creature who looked overjoyed, reaching his tiny hands forward and gripping the small cup with both hands. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked after Shura was out of earshot. 

“You already figured that one out,” you replied, taking a sip of your tea. “Regular genius that you are.” 

“You know what I’m asking, Doll.” 

You winced in spite of yourself. You hadn’t heard his name for you in so long. 

“You got new armor,” you said instead of answering. “Quite the upgrade.” 

“Answer the question.” 

“I don’t owe you a damn thing, Mando,” you said, chin defiantly titled up. 

“No,” he replied. “But I doubt you want me hunting down everyone you’ve spoken to in the last month until I find whoever hurt you so I can kill them.” 

You glared at him, taking another sip of tea before setting it down in front of you and crossing your arms across your body, as though they would protect you from him in some way. 

“And if they’re already dead?” You asked. 

“Are they?” You opened your mouth to reply but he cut you off. “You’re a good liar, Doll, but not with me. Are they still alive.” 

He was right. He saw right through you. He saw through you when you pressed the blaster to his chest, when you said you hated him, when you said it was fine that you were a warm body. The asshole always saw right through you. 

“They’re alive,” you replied. “But I handled it. He’s in worse shape than me.” 

“I doubt it.” 

“Really?” You replied. “Because I took one of his eyes, Din, and there are some things even bacta can’t fix.” 

“Anything to eat today, Kelda?” Shura came up, smiling at you. 

“No,” you smiled tightly back. “Just the tea, thanks.” 

“You know, if you want…” she began, but you cut her off. 

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. “But thanks.” 

She looked at the Mandalorian, gave him and awkward smile and the kid a scratch on the end of his ear and left again. 

“Why didn’t you kill him?” He asked after a moment. You sighed. 

“Seems like I’ve killed enough for one lifetime,” you said, staring down at the table. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it again. Not this time.” 

He was silent for a moment. 

“Where was your husband?” He asked quietly. 

You were about to answer, an automatic reply, when you realized it. 

“How did you know I’m married?” You asked, fingers digging into your arms, worried you might try to punch him if you weren’t holding onto something. You’d never have been able to beat him on strength but you were well trained. There was a time where you thought you could have held your own against the Mandalorian. That was no longer the case. “Have you been tracking me? Stalking me?” 

“No.” 

The baby on his lap cooed, holding up his empty cup and waving it at him. Din took it and set it on the table, out of the child’s reach. The creature pouted, a feeling of disappointment coming from him when his oversized eyes found yours. You looked back up at the Mandalorian. 

“Then how,” you had to speak through gritted teeth. 

“I checked up on you once or twice,” he said. You could feel that his eyes weren’t meeting yours. “When I was in the region, I stopped to see Aidla and Tam. She told me you were married.” 

“That’s a lie,” you snapped. “She would have told me…” 

“I asked her not to,” he replied. “I didn’t want to disrupt your life. You were married, you had peace and quiet. It’s what you wanted.” 

“So why did you come back?” You demanded. “You didn’t want to disrupt my life, why come see me at all?” 

“I tried not to,” he said quietly. 

“Why?” 

He was silent again for a moment. 

“Where was your husband?” 

You stared him down from across the table, waiting for him to put it together. You knew he would. He stiffened. 

“How long.” It was a growl and not really a question. 

“He waited a while,” you shrugged. “Made it so I had no other options.” 

“How. Long.” 

You sighed. 

“It lasted about six months,” you replied. “It was never great but it was fine, for a while, even though I wasn’t… well, I wasn’t good at giving him what he wanted. But he ran out of patience with me after Aidla and Tam died about nine months back. They were the only contacts I had, we lived in the middle of nowhere so I had no friends. I couldn’t access the speeder. My parents died before you even left me on Dantooine, not that I would have risked asking them for help…” 

You sighed, looking at the wall next to you. You couldn’t believe you were doing this again, telling this damned man everything you hated about yourself. 

“Anyway,” you sighed. “I can take a lot and I did a decent enough job holding him off considering I hadn’t kept my skills up in years. But a few weeks ago, he was drunk, got upset that I’d refused my ‘wifely duties’ for a bit too long, tried to take what he wanted. So, I took his eye. And his ear.” 

“You left him alive.” He was seething. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. You met his eyes, almost pleading with him to understand. “I just… I couldn’t do it. It’s not that I ever loved him but… I needed to not be the thing that killed him. Even if he deserved it.” 

“Is he still on Dantooine?” Din’s hand was on the table, fist clenched tight. The kid looked concerned. You titled your head, seeing if he’d meet your eyes so you could confirm it. He did, the worry tinged by confusion. 

“Don’t be afraid little guy,” you said, smiling softly at him. “Everything’s alright.” 

The Mandalorian looked down at him and back to you. 

“Sorry,” you said, looking up at Din. “He’s not looking at you so you probably can’t feel it but he’s a little freaked out…” 

“What do you mean ‘can’t feel it?’” 

“Oh,” you frowned, looking back to the creature who was looking up at the Mandalorian. “Do you not feel it?” 

“Feel what?” 

“When he looks me in the eye, I can feel some of what he does,” you said. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d have realized that by now, I figured it was just part of… whatever species he is.” 

Din was quiet for a moment before he picked the baby up, turned him around and lifted him in front of his face, so their eyes would be level. The Child cooed happily. 

“Any luck?” You asked after a moment. He just shook his head. You shrugged. “Probably can’t make it through your thick helmet.” 

The Mandalorian grunted and put the kid on the bench beside him, pulling a metal ball out of the bag at his side and handing it to him. He took it happily. Din turned his attention back to you. 

“Where’s your husband now.” 

“Why?” You asked. “He’s not hurting me anymore, that’s all that matters.” 

“No,” he replied. “Tell me where he is, Doll, or…” 

“Or what?” You asked. “You’ll forget I ever happened? I was cargo, Mando. You did your job, it’s done. It’s been done for years.” 

“I will hunt him,” he said, his voice hard. “If you tell me, it will be easier but I don’t need you to. I can track him without you and I will make him pay.” 

“I don’t want you to,” you said, jaw tense. “I don’t want your help, I don’t want to owe you a damn thing. I want you to leave me alone.” 

“What are your plans from here?” He asked. “Do you plan on working at that… place forever?” 

“Only until I save up enough credits to catch a transport out of here,” you shrugged. “Figured if I can make it to midrim, I can find work as a translator or something. I just need identification for whoever I’m going to be next and the ticket off this planet and then I’m set. It should only take me a few more months, I can lay low the long.” 

“And if he comes looking for you?” He asked. “You sold your blaster.” 

You frowned, eyebrows knitting together. 

“How did you know that?” 

He pulled the weapon out from a pouch on his leg setting it on the table between you. You picked it up, holding it with reverence. 

“Bought it off a weapons trader earlier,” he said. “It’s how I found you, said he bought it off a girl this morning, one who was in trouble. I thought it might have been you. It was a long shot but I had to check…” 

“What’d you pay for it?” You asked, turning it over in your hands. You’d only sold it hours before but you’d resigned yourself to never seeing it again. It seemed miraculous that you had it now. 

“Just 750 credits,” Din replied. You laughed dryly. 

“You got a deal,” you said, setting it down in the middle of the table. “Thought that guy had half a brain, figured he’d get it without me pointing it out. The royal seal at the base of the handle increases its value. You could turn it around and sell it for 2,000 on Coruscant. But his loss is your gain.” 

“Keep it,” he said. “Absolutely not,” you shook your head firmly. 

“Doll…” 

“I mean it,” you replied. “I’m not going to owe you. I can’t owe you.” 

“And I’m not going to leave you here, defenseless, when someone nearly beat you to death,” he snapped. 

“Mando,” you sighed but he leaned across the table, fists clenched. 

“If you won’t take the blaster, I’ll give you two choices,” he said. 

“Fine. What are they?” 

“Choice one, you come with me and I take you wherever you want to go,” he replied. You opened your mouth to protest but he cut you off. “I could use some help protecting the kid and picking up odd jobs. I’ll let you work your way through so you don’t owe me. Choice two, you stay here and I hunt your husband so I can kill him.” 

“That is not fair,” you fought to keep from yelling at him. “You can’t back me into a corner like that!” 

“You forced my hand,” he shrugged. “If you won’t keep yourself safe, you haven’t left me another option.” 

“Is this fun for you?” You snapped. “Do you enjoy this?” 

“Enjoy seeing you hurting?” He replied, his voice oddly calm. “No.” 

He watched you, unflinching from across the table. You wondered, for a moment, if you could run. You weren’t especially strong at the moment and you didn’t have much in the way of credits. You could maybe get to the other side of the planet, but with no real identification, it would take a while before you found work again and you’d be stuck. And Din was Din. He’d find you before you made it off world. 

“Fine,” you hissed. “I’ll come with you.” 

“Good,” he said. 

“Tomorrow,” you said. “I have some things to finish up here.” 

“Fine,” he said. “Tomorrow morning, space port.” 

“Still in the Razor Crest?” He just gave you a stiff nod. “I’ll find you.” 

“If you don’t, I’ll find you.” 

You believed him.

A/N: Some info about where we're coming into the Mandoverse now that the fic and the show timelines will collide!

This is now 3 years after the first 11 chapters of this fic, set post Season 1 of the Mandalorian (the fight against Gideon has happened.) From here out, this will drastically diverge from canon (while hopefully maintaining characterization from the show for non-OC.)

[shakespeariancryptid]

A special good morning to the three empty bots and one porn bot that followed me at 5am last night.

[coffee-n-some-cream]

6. bonfire

Casey fell for him across a bonfire. They were at the farmhouse, gathered in the yard, blankets and hot drinks helping to chase the cold away. He watched his best friend through the flickering dance of the fire, and his heart unwound slowly, helplessly, like a crumpled piece of paper slowly unfurling as it burned.

He used to think that when they were alone together, Raph was in his element. That they shared the same habitat, the same heartbeat. With his loud laughter and vicious grin, his body always tensed and ready to tear something apart, his eyes wild and alight with adrenaline. On those violent, long nights, it was a thrill just to be next to him. He thought he got Raph at his best, his most sure, his truest self.

He was wrong, he realized, as he watched the turtle’s slow, soft smile. As Mikey fell asleep against his shoulder, as Don mindlessly tapped one foot against his ankle, as Leo passed him a warm mug of cider with a quiet murmur of words Casey couldn’t hear. As his arms crossed, relaxed against his plastron, and his eyelids drooped. He was still thrilling to be near, still brightly and unrelentingly alive. But there he sat, surrounded on all sides by his brothers, and he was perfectly still.

There he was, Casey realized. There he was.

He couldn’t have loved him so much otherwise.

Raphael looked at him then, the firelight swimming in the deep brown pools of his eyes, and it took Casey’s breath away.

Years later, as Casey watched the remnants of the Foot clan headquarters burning, he wondered how the fire would have looked reflecting in Raph’s eyes. Beautiful, probably.

He held one arm tight around his torso, warm and slick with the blood that was spilling from his chest, and allowed his legs to give out from under him. His ass hit the ground, cold with early dew. It was a dark, moonless night. The fire that consumed the compound blotted out the stars.

The sound of deliberate footsteps behind him. Leonardo. The turtle slowed, then dropped into a crouch in front of Casey.

“I did it.” Casey tore his gaze from the roaring blaze to look at Leonardo. The turtle looked back at him, eyes betraying nothing. “I told them I would, and I did.”

Leonardo nodded slowly, not blinking. “You did.” He studied him for a moment, then said, “Raphael wasn’t just a friend to you, was he?”

Casey took a shallow, shaking breath, and didn’t answer. Karai had said she was eliminating their deadliest soldier. Their fiercest fighter,  their strength. She said she had crippled them. And she was right. Raphael was all of those things. And losing him cut them at the knees, took the air from their lungs. It turned the tide of their little clan war against them.

But that guy, that Raphael, wasn’t who Casey burned these buildings for. That guy wasn’t why he ignored the agonized screams coming from inside as he launched another incendiary puck through a glass window.

It was for the Raphael that he watched through the gentle flames of a family bonfire almost a decade ago.

Leonardo sighed. “Did he know?”

Casey looked at him. He saw the scorch marks along his plastron, the welts on his hands and forearms. From trying to pull people from the fire.

He swallowed and shook his head.

Leonardo nodded. Shining tears welled in his eyes, but his face remained blank. He said nothing. Even as Casey felt the tears fall onto his soot-streaked sneaker.

Casey was not like Raphael. He was not a strong, steady heart, a fire blazing hot enough to turn enemies to ash, but gentle enough to keep his family warm on cool autumn nights. He was not a bonfire. Those long, violent nights were his element. The brutal satisfaction as he beat some shithead’s face in with a bat was his truest self. 

He was greasy, dark, viscous gasoline.

AO3

this was written for the September writing prompts found here

[birgittesilverbae]

dads: libby's first breakup oh the teenage angst

"Hey, MJ," Mary says, leaning out into the garage. "Your dad just called wondering if you'd stopped by." 

Libby pushes her helmet up onto her forehead and takes a swig of water from the bottle resting on top of the net before responding. "What'd you tell her?"

"That you're here talking shop with Shan."

"Talking so much shop," Shannon agrees, flipping the puck up onto her stick blade and pulling it back and forth through the air in front of her with increasing speed. "All shop, all the time. Right, Libs?"

Mary rolls her eyes but can't keep her fond grin off her face. "Do you wanna have a chat about why you're actually here," she continues, turning her attention back to Libby, "or should we keep pretending you haven't been crying?"

Libby's shoulders sag. "You're not gonna let me choose the second option, are you?"

"If you wanted emotionally-stunted, you should've gone home. Come help me with dinner."

"Fine." Libby nods sullenly. "Fine. Thanks for shooting on me, Shan, and for the talk. I'll be in once I've got my pads off."

"Don't take too long," Mary cautions, and heads back into the kitchen. 

Shannon joins her a few minutes later, when she's got ingredients arrayed on the counter. She hugs Mary from behind, hooks her chin over her shoulder, kisses her cheek. "Be gentle with her," she says as Mary leans into her touch.

"I'm always gentle."

"I know, babe, but on this especially. She's very Bea in how she's going about it."

Mary clicks her tongue. "If that isn't the most concerning thing I've heard tonight. You sure you don't want to handle this?"

Mary can feel the stretch of Shannon's grin against her cheek. "The little shit told me I was, and I quote, 'probably too gay to be able to give helpful advice'."

Mary nods her understanding. "So it is boy trouble. Lily didn't seem sure. She was mainly just concerned MJ hadn't checked in with them all afternoon."

"You're not gonna defend my honour?"

"Was she wrong?"

Shannon pokes her hard in the side. "You know she wasn't."

"If it makes you feel any better, she said something similar to Bea that time she got in a fight with Kumquat."

"Caleb," Shannon corrects with a long-suffering sigh. "Honestly, you're all going to give that kid an identity crisis one of these days."

"Was it him?"

"No, no, no no no. She was clear on that, at least. But I know she's been hanging around with a couple of the guys on the boys' high school squad lately."

"The ones you've spent the past month bitching about?"

"The ones I wouldn't have a problem with if they didn't exemplify everything that's wrong with hockey culture."

"Ah." Mary's jaw goes tight. "Right. That's– I can see why she didn't go to those three for this talk."

Shannon hums her agreement. "I don't imagine there'd be a rational response in sight. And if this involves who I think it might, I don't know that I'll be able to respond appropriately."

"So it's up to me."

"So it's up to you." The door to the garage is flung open, loudly enough to be heard across the house, and Shannon flinches. "Thank you, darling. I'll get out of your hair." She kisses Mary's cheek and heads for the hallway.

Libby slumps into the kitchen in the wake of Shannon's departure, dropping onto a stool at the counter island with a heavy sigh. "What're we making?"

"Just a stir fry and rice, a side salad. Lots of chopping for you." Mary pushes the cutting board and chef's knife across the countertop to her, watches the stranglehold grip Libby puts on the knife handle. "Don't go stabbing the carrots."

Libby grumbles something under her breath, not quite loud enough for Mary to make out, but she loosens her grip enough that the colour flows back into her knuckles and aligns a head of broccoli on the cutting board. 

Mary sets up opposite her, hands making quick work of a row of chicken breasts while her eyes linger on Libby. "What's his name?" she asks after a few minutes of quiet chopping. "The boy?"

Libby's knife freezes in the middle of pushing florets to one side of the cutting board. "Carter," she replies, not meeting Mary's gaze. "I don't want to talk about him."

"Why not?"

Libby shrugs. "Because it's embarrassing? Because I was too stupid to see it coming?" She lays her knife down and scrubs at her eyes with the back of her hand. 

"What'd he do, MJ?" Mary pivots to the sink to scrub her hands clean. 

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know." She shrugs helplessly. "I just– He said I was too smart for my own good, and didn't tell him anything, and–" her words disintegrate into low sobs that slowly climb in volume. 

Mary wipes her hands on the kitchen towel slung over her shoulder and circles the island. "C'mere, I got you."

"Everything sucks," she sobs into Mary's shoulder. 

Mary rubs her back, makes soothing sounds. "Yeah, that about covers it."

"I think I was in love with him, and he just–" Her hands clutch at the back of Mary's shirt. "He just–"

Mary huffs out a laugh. "No, you weren't." 

Libby pulls back, rubs a sleeve under her nose. "You don't know that," she says, voice pitching higher in anger.

"Hormones, MJ. God help you." 

 "It's real, I'm allowed to feel like this."

"You are. I'm not trying to minimise that." Mary steps to the side to reach for the tissue box. "You're allowed to be hurt by it, and sad, and miss him. That's normal. He just sounds like a dick, and if he's saying that shit to you then you're better off without him." 

"Is it supposed to hurt physically? Like, I feel like I took an elbow to the ribs or something."

"That's your body telling you you need to take a breath, babygirl. Nice and slow, like Shan taught you, alright? Can you do that for me?"

"I'll try," Libby forces out between ragged breaths. She flattens her hand over her diaphragm and takes a deep breath, the exact same way Mary's seen Shannon centre herself dozens, if not hundreds, of times.

"Well done, babygirl. What're you feeling for dessert? I think we've still got some of those brownies from the other night, if Shannon hasn't dummied the rest, or there's ice cream. Both together, even."

"I'm in season, Mary," Libby replies primly, picking up her knife again as though her face isn't still streaked with tears. All Mary can see is Beatrice all those years back, getting food on a table set for four instead of five, face damp and mouth drawn into a thin line. "No dessert except on game days."

"Pretty sure that's not a team rule. You deserve to give yourself a break once in a while, alright? Especially on a day like this. So, what's it gonna be? Ice cream or brownies or both?"

[heartsandhischier]

Rinkside Romance

nico hischier x reader

summary - 3.2k words. Y/N, an author has an unexpectant meeting with the captain of the New Jersey Devils, Nico Hischier

note - this is my first writing ever, so I hope you all like it :)

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, creating a rich symphony of scents that blended with the soft murmur of conversation that surrounded the quaint little coffee shop. The coffee machines whirred in time with the gentle hum of patrons bustling about, seeking comfort from the cold evening.

Amidst the comforting atmosphere, Y/N found herself engrossed in the world of her latest novel, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she wove her characters through the chapter’s final paragraph. Her fingers moved swiftly, navigating the keys with practiced ease, each click punctuated by the rhythmic beat of the nearby espresso machines.

As she reached for her steaming cappuccino, her heart skipped a beat, realising the cup was empty. She hurried to the counter, her mind already lost in the world of her novel, she felt compelled to keep her creative momentum going. “Another one?” the barista questioned, his voice barely rising above the din of orders being shouted and the hissing of steam from the machines. Y/N nodded, a smile on her lips as she slid him the empy cup across the counter.

Her gaze wandered across the bustling cafe, taking in the familiar faces and comforting atmosphere that had become her haven since moving to New Jersey. But then her attention was drawn to a figure across the room – a man whose rugged charm and quiet confidence seemed to entice her.

His hand swept his dark locks out of his face, revealing warm brown eyes that sparkeled at her. Their eyes met briefly, and in that fleeting moment, it felt like a page was ripped out from one of her books. In the midst of the coffee shop’s bustle, he held her gaze, momentarily suspending time itself. It felt as if the world had quiteted down, leaving only the two of them in a shared moment of calm amidst the chaos.

“Cappuccino for Y/N!” The call of her name snapped her back to reality. Y/N collected her fresh cappuccino and thanked the barista with a nod. As she took the cup, she turned around in searchfor the stranger with the big brown eyes. To her surprise he was still there, his eyes fixed on her every move, a gentle smile playing on his lips. With a final smile, Y/N returned to her booth, unaware that fate was about to interwine.

Puck Drop and Bar Hops

A few weeks later, Y/N found herself in the midst of a bustling local sports bar, where her friend Jessica had successfully persuaded her to come out and experience the city’s vibrant energy and passion for their team. Tonight, it was a hockey match—the New Jersey Devils against the Dallas Stars. Y/N didn’t know too much about the sport but nevertheless kept her eyes glued to the screen as she struggled to keep track of the puck’s whereabouts.

No matter the extent of knowledge, or rather lack thereof. Jessica’s enthusiasm was contagious, and Y/N couldn’t help but join in as the entire bar erupted in cheers with each Devils goal. The atmosphere was electric, with glasses clinking and cheerful chants filling the air as the Devils cruised to a 5-2 win.  

“See! It wasn’t too bad getting out of your apartment to experience this, right?” Jessica chimed, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. Y/N playfully stuck her tongue out in response, joining in the laughter that bubbled between them.

“Come on! You need to get out more! Explore the city, not just your apartment and the coffee shop! Who knows, it might even give you some inspiration for your books,” Jessica continued, nudging Y/N with a playful elbow.

Jessica then leaned in closer, her voice lowered to a whisper. “You know, this bar is where the team usually goes to unwind after their games,” she explained, excitement in her eyes. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get to meet some of the players.”

Before Y/N could respond, the door swung open, causing a wave of cheers to erupt from the fans in the bar as all heads turned to face the entrance. The atmosphere crackled with excitement as a group of familiar faces made their grand entrance—the New Jersey Devils themselves. 

They were greeted with enthusiastic pats on the backs and a flurry of “Go Devils!” from the triumphant fans as they navigated through the bar, basking in the adoration of their supporters. Among them, Y/N’s gaze was immediately drawn to a pair of unmistakable brown eyes, their warmth and familiarity sparking a sudden surge of recognition within her.

Her heart raced as she watched the players move through the crowd, their presence commanding attention and admiration from everyone present. Could it truly be him? The realisation sent a thrill through her, igniting a spark of home and curiosity that she couldn't ignore.

“They’re cute right!” Jessica giggled next to her, her eyes glued to the players now standing by the bar. Y/N turned around in confusion as her friend pried her eyes away from the players ordering drinks and beers. "Y/N, you were quite literally drooling,” caught off guard, Y/N blushed hard as she attempted to regain her composure. “I, uh, I guess so,” she stammered, her gaze flickering nervously between Jessica and the group of athletes at the bar. 

Jessica leaned in closed, her continuing to eye the players. “I think Timo Meier is pretty cute,” she admitted with a playful grin. “But, oh my god, have you seen the captain? He’s also Swiss, like Timo, and he was a first-round draft pick. And those big brown eyes? Endearing as hell!” 

As the evening wore on, Jessica couldn’t help but gush about the players, pointing them out amidst the crowd. Y/N listened intently, her eyes skipping a beat as Jessica rambled on about their captain, Nico, pointing to a tall familiar figure. With a jolt of recognition, she realised that Nico, the captain Jessica had been raving about, was the same guy from the coffee shop. Her cheeks flushed with warmth as she stole a glance in Nico’s direction, her mind racing with newfound understanding.

Suddenly, a bartender approached their table, a tray of drinks in hand. “These are from one of the players,” he announced with a wink. “Lucky you!”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise as she glanced over to the bar, spotting the hockey player with the familiar brown eyes. A rush of excitement coursed through her veins as she quietly thanked herself for agreeing to go out today. 

Emboldened by the gesture, Y/N found herself drawn to the bar, her heart pounding in her chest as she took a big swig of her drink and approached the handsome stranger. With a warm smile, she thanked Nico for the drinks, her voice steady and sure. Nico’s laughter filled the air, a melodic sound that wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. “You’re welcome,” he replied, his tone warm and inviting.

Before she could say anything else, he extended his hand with a charming grin. “I’m Nico,” he introduced himself, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Y/N felt a rush of nerves as she struggled to respond, the weight of Nico’s presence catching her off guard, and in the heat of the moment without thought she blurted out an awkward “I know,” immediately cringing at her own words. Nico’s laughter only grew louder, genuine amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, it’s nice to meet you again, ‘I know’,” he teased gently, his easygoing demeanour putting her at ease.

Blushing furiously, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with him, the tension of the moment melting away in the warmth of their shared laughter. “Sorry, that probably sounded weird,” she chuckled nervously. “My friend just told me about the team and their captain, and then I realised it was you and…” you rambled on as you tried to explain yourself as the awkwardness you felt lingered. Nico shook his head, his smile widening as he interrupted your panic. “Not at all. It’s kind of cute actually,” he reassured her, his gaze warm and reassuring.

Relieved by his response, Y/N felt her nerves begin to ease. “Thanks,” she replied, a genuine smile lighting up her face. “So, uh, what brings you to the bar tonight?” she asked, eager to keep the conversation flowing.

As the evening progressed, the conversation between Y/N and Nico flowed effortlessly, punctuated by shared laughter and easy banter. Y/N occasionally glanced over at her friend Jessica, ensuring she was enjoying herself, only to find her deeply engaged in conversation with Timo Meier, the player she had pointed out earlier.

Seeing that her friend was in good hands with her newfound connection, Y/N turned her attention back to Nico. With each passing minute, she found herself drawn further into Nico’s magnetic presence. Her initial nervousness gave way to a growing sense of comfort and excitement. And as the night wore on, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this unexpected encounter was just the beginning of something truly special. 

Jersey lights and Italian Delights

The clicking of Y/N’s heels echoed across the lobby of her apartment building as she nervously adjusted her dress, the sleek black fabric hugging her curves in all the right places. She had opted for a longer dress at Jessica’s suggestion, feeling a bit out of her comfort zone in such formal attire, especially for a date. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage before stepping out into the cool evening air.

As she descended the steps, her heart raced with anticipation. There he was, leaning against the sleek black car, his brown hair swept back, revealing those familiar and warm brown eyes. When he spotted her, his face lit up with a smile that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. 

“Hey there, ‘I know’,” he greeted her, his voice filled with warmth and affection. “You look stunning!”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush at his compliment as she approached him, his arms wrapping around her waist in a comforting embrace. Meeting his gaze, she couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you,” she replied softly, her heart racing with excitement. “Ready for our date?”

Their first date was nothing short of magical—a candlelit dinner at a cosy Italian restaurant, where time seemed to stand still as they delved into deep conversations and shared intimate stories. Amidst the flickering candlelight, Nico and Y/N’s connection only grew stronger as the night went on.

As their relationship progressed, Y/N and Nico found themselves drawn to familiar places that held special memories for them. None more so than the cosy, quaint coffee shop where they had first locked eyes. 

“One cappuccino for my favourite author!” Nico’s voice rang out cheerfully as he approached their table, bearing two steaming cups of coffee. Y/N glanced up at the brown-haired man, a smile tugging at her lips at his playful remark. Accepting the coffee, she savoured the rich aroma before taking a sip, feeling the warmth spread through her. “Well, thank you, my favourite hockey player in the NHL,” she quipped in return as he settled into the booth opposite her. Nico chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. “Yeah, I’d better be,” he teased, reaching across the table to gently brush his fingers against hers.

Their playful banter was interrupted by the familiar sound of Y/N’s phone buzzing with a notification. It was an email about her book release event, scheduled for the following week. Excitement bubbled up inside her as she shared the news with Nico. “I’d love for you to come,” she said, her voice tinged with anticipation. “It would mean the world to me to have you there.” Nico’s response was immediate and unwavering. “Of course I’ll be there,” he said, his brown eyes filled with sincerity.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

As the day of the book release event arrived, Y/N felt a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her veins. Sitting at the table where she signed copies of her book for eager fans, her heart was fluttering with each interaction. Amidst the bustling atmosphere, she couldn’t help but notice a familiar figure in the line. It was Nico, patiently waiting with a copy of her newly released book clutched to his chest.

When Nico finally approached her table, his eyes lit up with excitement as he handed her his copy of her book. “Hey there, ‘I know’,” he greeted warmly, a grin spreading across his face. “I’ve been looking forward to getting my hands on a signed copy of this book. I’ve heard the author is amazing!”

Y/N chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through her. She signed his copy, adding a little extra flourish with a heart next to her signature.

“Well, a little special signature for my favorite fan then!”

Midnight came creeping, and the event came to a close. Y/N stood up from her seat, approaching Nico, who had been engaging with her fans and colleagues throughout the evening. She smiled at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you for being here,” she spoke softly. “Having you by my side means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Nico pulled her into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around her protectively. “I’ll always be here for you,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. 

“No matter what.”

From Ice to Ink

Amidst the whirlwind of her book release and hectic schedule, Y/N found herself attending her first hockey game at the Prudential Center in New Jersey. Adorned in Nico’s jersey, proudly displaying the number 13 on her back, she felt a sense of pride and excitement as she entered the arena to support Nico and the New Jersey Devils as they faced off against the Nashville Predators.

Welcomed by a friendly security guard, Y/N was guided to the room reserved for the players’ wives and girlfriends, where she was warmly greeted by the other women. Engaging in conversation and camaraderie, she felt a sense of belonging among them, despite it being her first time attending a game. As the game started, Y/N found her seat alongside the other wives and girlfriends, excitement filled the air. And Y/N couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as she watched Nico and the Devils take to the ice. 

As the game unfolded, the tension in the area was palpable. The Predators put up a strong fight, but the Devils matched them stride for stride. The score remained close throughout the game, with both teams trading goals in a back-and-forth battle. Y/N watched with bated breaths as Nico and his teammates fought tirelessly on the ice. The energy in the arena was electric, with fans on the edge of their seats as the team vied for control of the game.

The third period had the whole arena on the edge of their seats. With the score tied, the two teams fought to get the puck into their opponents goal. Chasing the puck across the ice, Nico seized a golden opportunity. As the puck soared into the back of the net, the arena exploded with cheers and applause. Amidst the jubilant roar of the crowd, Nico’s celebration was a sight to behold. With a leap of sheer exhilaration, he raised his arms triumphantly, his face radiant with joy. 

Turning towards the stands, his gaze found Y/N amidst the sea of cheering fans. A wide smile spread across his face as he blew her a kiss, a gesture filled with love and appreciation. In that moment, amidst the deafening roar of the crowd, it was as if time stood still, and their connection shone brightly for all to see. 

As the final buzzer sounded, signalling the end of the game, the scoreboard read: New Jersey Devils 4, Nashville Predators 3. The Devils had emerged victorious in a hard-fought battle, much to the delight of fans in attendance. 

After the game, Y/N waited patiently with the other women in the lounge as the players headed to the locker room. Y/N couldn’t resist checking social media for highlights of the game. To her surprise, she stumbled upon a clip of Nico’s post-game interview. “The celly you did after your goal was terrific,” the interviewer remarked. “That kiss into the crowd—was that planned? Perhaps directed at someone?”

Nico’s smile widened as he responded, “Well, it was a special moment for me. It’s actually my girlfriend’s first game here, so I just wanted to show her a little extra love.”

Watching the interview, Y/N felt a rush of emotion as Nico publicly referred to her as his girlfriend for the first time. When Nico finally emerged from the locker rooms, she couldn’t contain her excitement, rushing to greet him with a big hug and congratulations on the win and his goal.

“So, I’ve been upgraded from ‘I know’ to girlfriend now, huh?” She teased playfully.

Nico chuckled, his eyes filled with affection. With a gentle smile, he pulled away and reached into his suit pocket, retrieving something special from the night—a puck. It was inscribed with the words “Y/N’s first game” in white marker. 

“Well, it would be my pleasure if you’d want that promotion,” he replied, his gaze locked onto hers with those captivating brown eyes as he presented her the puck. 

Nico's words had her cheeks flaring, and with a surge of happiness she nodded eagerly. "I would love to be your girlfriend, Nico!"As their eyes met, he grinned and leaned in to give her a tender kiss, sealing the moment with a promise of more to come.

[triplesilverstar]

A little pain with pleasure

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI 

Pairing: Knives X F!Reader

CW: Dom/Sub undertones, multiple orgasms, p in v sex, anal, lube, 

Word count: Roughly 1.4K

A/N: Chapter sixteen of the series, in which you let Knives try something a little new with you

Fisting the sheets you try to keep yourself from crying out, your pussy swollen and abused from Nai’s unrelenting pace tonight but he’s not done with you. 

“Stay still, don’t move your hips yet.” Hard to do when your legs feel like jelly and Nai has your ass in the air legs spread so you’re at just the right height for him to tease the tight ring of muscles that are your pucked hole. A hole that he is currently removing the ‘small’ butt plug from, shivering and biting your lip to try and keep yourself quiet. 

Nai has wanted this for a while now, been slowly working your body the last few weeks into accepting the different-sized plugs and teasing to get you used to the sensation. You still don’t understand how a plug the length of your index finger from your wrist is small, not when you started out with one a third of that size. “Good girl, stay like that Pet.” Gulping when you feel it removed from your body. 

Nai had made sure you had several orgasms before he made to finish inside your tight hole, the sound of ripping plastic reaching your ears. It’s been a while since the two of you have used a condom, but for this it makes sense. A far easier cleanup. 

The lube is cold when he pours more of it on your cheeks, his fingers drawing circles around the skin and spreading the liquid the way he wants. All you do is try to keep taking long deep breaths, trying to stay relaxed. A warm hand slides along your back and his covered tip is prodding your entrance, You involuntarily tighten and a loud slap resounds are the room. “Stay relaxed Pet.” The stinging on your ass distracts you enough for Nai to breach your body, sighing as he does so and you feel a burning in your lower body. 

It’s not unpleasant but your body is not a fan of the intrusion, the muscles working to try and push him out. “Nai” trying to keep your voice steady, You want to try this with him but with just a portion of him still inside you, it makes part of your mind panic. “Nai, can you move? Please?” 

A noise of confusion and he does just that moving slowly in and out of your body a movement so shallow it’s like his length is barely moving. Yet in your mind, the tiniest movement seems to relax the anxiety you were feeling. The tension receding. “You’re doing so well Pet.” A warm brush of his palm along your lower back, the hand on your hip gentle as he slowly works more and more of his length into your ass. “We can quit anytime. You know your word.”

You do know your safe word, but you want Nai to enjoy this trying to keep yourself relaxed as you assume like your first time having sex, this is just something you’re going to need to get used to. You’re glad Nai took his time with working you to this point, letting your body relax enough that when he starts thrusting to reach his peak it’s just a strange sensation pulling at you. 

Panting and groaning like an animal above you, his hips flush with yours now as he thrusts from tip to base chasing that high. Your fingers and grabbing more of the soft cotton sheets of his bed between them, grip hard enough that your fingers are starting to feel numb.

A final hard slam and you know Nai has reached his peak, groaning softly while he tries to catch his breath. His hands move to knead at the swells that are your ass cheeks, still hard inside of you. You whine a little when you feel him move, the lightest fluttering of his lips in the space between your shoulder blades. Like a feather swirling against your sweat-slicked skin before he finally removes himself from your body. 

Letting you drop to the sheets beneath you, panting as you try to catch your own breath, breathing deeply of the scent of sex and Nai so ingrained into his bed. It’s comforting to you, a sense of calm overcoming you. Groaning when a muscular arm wraps around your middle and pulls you upwards. 

Bone tired, you don’t fight Nai as he pulls you with him to the bathroom, seeing him press the plunger down in the oversized bathtub before taking you into the shower to clean up after all that sex and the final round of anal. 

He works to clean his skin with the precision you expect of him, and you try to do the same washing your body quickly and effectively even if some of his cum from his earlier rounds is still dripping from between your thighs. 

You realize the reason for his speed when he steps out and stalks to the tub, slowing the stream of steaming water flowing from the faucet. The view of his tight cheeks striding from the bathroom down the hall almost makes you whistle. 

Almost. 

You’re smart enough to know a noise like that would have you both back in the bedroom, and you are far too exhausted to have him pull from you tonight. It doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the view though.

Nai has to know he has a body most would kill for, all of him defined as if he was a marbled statue of a Greek god like the ones you remember seeing in a museum. 

Two wine glasses and an open bottle in hand as he returns, rolling his eyes at your staring, something you both know he internally preens at. Nai might not admit it, but he enjoys being like a peacock and being marveled over. Even if it’s only you that he seems to like hearing the praise from. 

Once both of you are settled in the steaming water, flinching a little as the heat starts to envelop you, Nai fills both wine glasses and you raise an eyebrow at the pale color. “White Nai? Are you feeling alright?” 

“Very funny Pet. Your preference for wine is different than mine, and tonight I am making an exception for you .” With his emphasis on the last part, you grin taking a sip. 

It’s an off-dry riesling that has a nice light refreshing body to it, and while Nai is sipping it as well you can tell he would have preferred one of his heavier reds. From the lightest flicker of his brow and the slightest souring of his mouth. “What’s the occasion?”

A raise of an eyebrow at you from across the tub as you face another and the amusement lighting up his teal eyes. “The occasion is I do compromise to meet my partner’s preferences.” Another sip of wine before he sends you a feral grin. “Only on occasion.” 

Laughing you sink down a little more in the water, letting the heat start to permeate into your flesh. The tightness of your muscles easing away as the water and wine help you to relax. “Thank you, Nai.” 

“You’re welcome, Pet.” His wine glass in one hand, the other under the water and you don’t need to look to see where it is. Feeling those fingers working into the meat of your calf, humming as you enjoy the touch. 

Instead of his hand climbing your leg as you expected, it remains down around your calf pressing into the tight muscles from the hours you’ve spent standing behind the bar. “Does that mean if we do more anal the chances of white wine after are higher?” 

A single well-maintained pale eyebrow raised at you once more, the pleasant pressure of his fingers disappearing as he moved his hand.

And you squeal, dragged by your ankle closer to him that hand wrapped around the joint in your leg. Pulling you so you’re almost straddling his lap, amazed you managed to hold on to your glass of wine as he looked down at you like a predator before catching your mouth in another kiss that leaves you breathless. 

“I said on occasion Pet. The wine selection has nothing to do with letting me be the first to fuck that tight hole of yours.” You can only giggle, a few soft kisses following his words. 

You know better. You know Nai better. Far better than you think anyone else in the world might. 

Back to masterlist

[starlightsuffered]

Professor Chalamet

Pairing - Timothée Chalamet/Fem!Reader

Warnings - Teacher and student (duh), oral (male and female receiving), secret relationship, spanking, name calling, needing to be quiet. Unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of masturbation, dirty talk

"That is the meaning behind the character of Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream, you are dismissed," Professor Chalamet said.

"Except for you Y/N," he called to me. I gulped. Was today finally the day that he picked up on the not so subtle hints l'd been dropping?

Drama 101 had been interesting since the first morning | walked in, and saw Professor Chalamet. He was gorgeous. Piercing hazel eyes, sharp cheekbones, decadent curly hair. I was in heaven. I felt very happy that I'd arrived early out of anxiety. The two of us had, had a very nice conversation. Since then I'd made the very pornoesque decision, to get his attention.

He was just so damn stoic and calm. It seemed like nothing phased him. He never reacted. The semester was almost over, and I had no idea if I'd seen him again. I had to make a bold move. Our final was turning in a script for a short film. Our rough drafts had been due last week. I'd handed him "The Professor's Secret." A story about a Professor fucking his student. I'd even been so courageous as to name the Professor, Professor Chardonnay.

I was shaking with anticipation as I approached his desk. Students filed out of the classroom, giving me pitying looks. They didn't understand this was all I wanted. I shivered as I remembered the door locked itself when you went out.

"Y/n," Professor Chalamet called my attention back to him. I walked slowly to his desk. I made sure to swish my hips slightly. I was wearing a tiny, pink, skater skirt, and a white button down. I had dressed up just for him, and I desperately wanted him to know it.

"What is this?" He asked calmly, holding up my script.

"My rough draft sir," I said politely. He ran a hand over his face, and when I looked at him again, I was shocked.

The anger on his face was real and cold. Usually, he was all smiles and gentle words. This was different.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" He asked menacingly. This was going wrong, completely and utterly wrong. He was truly angry. What would he do? Would he tell the school board? Would I get kicked out? Fuck, why did I let my pussy do all the thinking? Now there's going to be a Fox News segment about me.

"Can you even comprehend how many times l've read this? How I've poured over it? I've cum so many times from this alone, it is haunting me," he explained desperately. My world was spinning at hearing him talk like this.

Thinking of him cumming to just my writing was mesmerizing. Imagine what I could do to him with my real self.

"What are you saying Professor?" | asked coyly as I walked closer to him slowly.

"Do you know how many papers I've neglected, to read this again and again?" He growled.

"Maybe you should punish me," I suggested.

He looked at me for a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose with a pained look.

"I've tried my damndest this semester to not give into carnal pleasures. My resistance is reaching it breaking point."

"What if I want it to break?" I asked. I slowly, slowly, lowered myself to my knees in from of him. "What if I want to help it break."

or brother."

"Holy Hell," he gasped. "You can't tell anyone about this, not anyone you understand? Not a friend, not a sister

"Oh stop," I said squeezing his package. He shakily reached out to grab his desk.

"I want this as much as you do, why would I ruin the fun?"

He nodded, and unzippered his pants for me. My eyes bulged at his impressive length, and my mouth was watering. I took him in as far as I could go. I moaned as I felt his hand pulling on my hair. I sucked at him, moving up and down his cock. My spit was dripping down my chin, and onto the floor, but I wanted so badly to be good for him.

"Off," he commanded, and I whined as he removed his cock from me.

I stood up and he kissed me roughly, hands massaging my breasts that were still clothed. One of his hands went down to grab handfuls of my ass.

"Do you wear those slutty little outfits for me everyday?" He asked, after he'd pulled away.

"Yes, for you, all for you."

"So, you're just fine with distracting your Professor, while he's trying to make a living," he growled.

"Did it work?" I asked.

"You little minx," he pushed me away from him. He cleared a section of him desk, and pushed me down on it. He pushed up my skirt, and pulled down my thong. He hissed as he saw the wet patch he'd made me create.

"I'm getting my ruler, you stay there," he demanded. I did as I was told, lightly rubbing my thighs together for some sort of friction.

I heard the slap of the ruler on his hand as he approached me. I shivered with anticipation.

"You deserve punishment. Only bad girls rile up their professors in class, only bad girls write such filthy scripts."

A smack came down on my ass and I stifled a cry. He instantly was massaging the red skin.

"Were you worried I wasn't noticing the way you whored yourself out to me every class?"

Smack! Another blow had landed on my ass. I was loving the mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Please Professor, may I have another?" I asked desperately.

"No, only good students get what they want," he replied and there was no slap from the ruler. However, in seconds I was struggling not to scream out. He had gone under me, spread my legs, and was now devouring my heat with an expert tongue. I let out a mewl of pleasure and he stopped.

"Don't make a sound, slut, then everyone will know our secret."

"Yes, Professor Chalamet," | choked out. He continued to bless me with his tongue. I was nearing my orgasm. He stopped for a moment, and bit the skin of my inner thigh before returning to his task. I'm seconds I was coming undone, thighs clamping around his head with the effort not to scream.

He walked around so he was in front of me. My slick coated his face, and he wore it like a badge of honor. I was panting, sweat dripping down my temples.

"Like that did you?" He asked with a smirk.

"A+," | gasped. He chuckled, moving so he was behind me again.

"I hope that was enough to get you ready for me," he said.

"More than enough, please fill me," | begged. He pressed his tip to my entrance, and slowly pushed in. I relished how long it took him to bottom out inside me.

"Do you know how long l've imagined this" he asked as he began to snap his hips forward. I couldn't form the words to answer. My eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

"How many times l've wanted to cancel class and just have you in every way possible?"

I groaned, nails making marks in his wooden desk. I pressed my ass back to meet his thrusts and he let out a moan of approval.

"I know you thought the same of me. The way you'd eye fuck me from across the room was almost too much to handle. Did you go back to your dorm after and touch yourself? Did you play with your pretty pussy to the thought of me y/n?"

"Yes," it took all I had not to scream.

"I have an alternate ending for your script," he told me as he reached around to play with my clit. I bit down hard on my hand, it was the only way to keep silent. The only things to hear in the room was the wet sounds of us and his low, whispered, filthy words.

"What?" I managed to asked.

"I think the Professor should fuck his naughty student, that part can stay. But I think he should fill her everyday, every free period. She should be bursting with him. She would walk around campus so full of him that it's leaking down her thighs."

"Fuck," I said against my hand. I knew I would leave deep teeth marks there.

"Wouldn't it be delicious if she got pregnant? She wouldn't be able to tell anyone whose cum she was carrying around. No one would know who bred her cunt so well that she was completely full. She would have to keep it undercover as he filled her over and over."

"I can't," I gasped, and I was tumbling into a orgasm filled with shining stars and white hot pleasure. I couldn't contain myself and Professor Chalamet had to clap his hand over my mouth, yet he continued to rub circles on my pulsating clit.

"You want my cum? Im going to fill you," he moaned as I continued to squeeze around him. He spilled into me, rope after rope of cum pumping into me.

"Fuck," he said under his breath as he pulled out. I felt some of him spill out of me onto the floor.

"You are to have tutoring session with me every day of the school week, do I make myself clear?" He demanded.

"Yes Professor Chalamet," I said with giddy joy.

"Call me Timothée."