#flyers player of the game
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morgansyorkie · 1 year ago
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This new dog feel right at home 🐶
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cawnecny · 2 years ago
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Sandra goes to bat
02.09.23
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wehaveagathering · 1 year ago
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this is our future (im delusional)
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out--of--ordinary · 10 months ago
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Seeing a lot of beezer hate on the insta post for missing that shot in ot... Cut bro some slack he took a shot to the fucking head not an hour before that
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em-ptynet · 2 months ago
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for the ask game!
kiss/marry/kill: 2015 edition
travis konecny, kirill kaprizov, nice dunn
MARRY TK. literally my fave player, he'll win any matchup. i love him so much and i think we'd be snarky besties. also i see how this man hugs his goalie after a win and unlimited hugs is the dream actually ‼️
kiss nice vince (hilarious typo considering his on ice personality <3). tbh I'd be more inclined to just hug him bc I'm not into kissing but it would also be very funny to say i kissed a man that a ridiculous amount of people lust over so 🤷‍♀️ would do it for the bit probably
kirill you're dead to me 🔪 (I'm kidding i like you fine but i also know nothing about you nor do i pay much attention to the wild) honestly i started off hating the wild bc my first game seeing them was against the flyers and it was a super weird game where tk got bullied by multiple players for no reason so kinda fitting for things to go this way
this was so fun thank you!!!
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blusical · 2 years ago
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Hockey fans, who's your least favorite player on your favorite team?
I'll start: Thomas Greiss (and Jordan Binnington) for the Blues and *maybe* Carl Hagelin for the Caps.
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bigbuxbolds · 1 month ago
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GUS BUS HURT??
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fascinationsublime · 1 year ago
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The way straight men feel about Ryan Reynolds, that's how these hockey babies feel about Sidney Crosby
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all these younguns crushing on sid for real
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satgur · 6 months ago
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Bingo Game Flyer Template - PSD
Download Bingo Game Flyer Template
Easily create flyer with this template, with well organized file and layers. Print it or use for social media.
Visit page for more details.
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morgansyorkie · 1 year ago
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This dog was dishing out apples 🍎 🍏
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cawnecny · 2 years ago
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Sarge gets the pog (`・ω・´)ゞ
source
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justaboutsnapped · 8 months ago
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Why you shouldn’t support the upcoming game Black Myth: Wukong
Simply put, the creators behind Black Myth: Wukong are raging misogynists.
Founders and creatives of the studio have:
Joked about former female employees hypothetically doing prostitution
Used suggestive/objectifying/derogatory imagery & phrasing in their hiring flyers (under the cut), e.g. “In addition to hookup buddies, we promise to provide more thoughtful services” , “fatties fuck off”, etc.
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Written entire think pieces on how video games don’t need female players or developers, how women are biologically inclined towards “softer” modes of gaming than men (there’s also a bit of homophobia mixed in through language such as “fuck sissies”), how some things should just be made for men, etc. “Fuck sissies, fuck tragic love stories, fuck moon-lit peach blossoms and flute-playing scholars! You don't need the reverse motivation of female players, you don't need to take care of those worms who just want to date chicks. Some things are just for men, their depression, their anger, their pain...”
Made numerous sexually explicit (& honestly incel-like) comments including ones about a female character in Black Myth: Wukong, e.g. “once you get used to this [character design] you can jerk off to it”, etc.
Boasted about how they’re losing followers, who must be women
To no one’s surprise, when people criticise the studio online, they’re met with vitriol about how they’re hypersensitive feminists, too politically correct, etc.
Chinese women have been YELLING non-stop on social media about how bad it is so it’s pretty depressing to see that a lot of non-Chinese gamers, even after reading an IGN article covering the situation, are apathetic. I get that a lot of people are excited about the novelty of a soulslike game based on Chinese mythology, but do you really want to support a studio that actively contributes towards and benefits from misogynistic gaming culture?
Talking about separating the artist from their art is bullshit if you're financially supporting them. Boycott! Pirate!
Here are some sources if you want to see detailed translations, learn more about the situation as well as the misogynistic gaming culture at large China:
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dogwittaablog · 1 year ago
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what did you think nolan was doing on new years this year?
I honestly think he had to have kicked back with some group of peers (even tho he unfollowed everyone and there moms, to the point it seems like he barely has any) or had some kind of family gathering… listen I was even thinking this dude was out on whole ass hunting trip… do I dare say… he might have celebrated alone? 🫣
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too-deviant · 9 months ago
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strategic manoeuvre.
— WITH…ART DONALDSON!
contains...babysitter!reader, age gap, 18+ MDNI, art cheats w reader but it is lowkey implied that tashi planned the whole thing, car sex, semi-public sex, head (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, inspired by this post from @traumatrios
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You had never been interested in tennis before Art. 
You weren’t interested in sports at all, really — you just wanted to buckle down and focus on your college work, earn some money with an easy part-time job. You didn’t have time to follow sports, or anything else. 
But then you got a call. You had been in the middle of a lecture when your phone buzzed against your notebook, a California number shining up at you and enticing you to pick up. Normally you would’ve let it go to voicemail, but you had recently gone around some of the fancier hotels in your city with flyers, asking for babysitting jobs and posting your number, so you excused yourself with a wave and took the call in the hallway. 
You didn’t know who Tashi Donaldson was when she introduced herself, but the hotel she’d asked you to come to later that night was fancy enough that you didn’t question it. You had done an extensive google search afterwards, of course, but simply raised an impressed brow at her repertoire. 
Then you met Art, her tennis player husband and the father of the lovely little girl you would be taking care of, and suddenly you were pretty interested in tennis. 
It started when Lily had a bad nightmare and you couldn’t get her down — well, it started when you met the guy, palm sweaty in his own as he introduced himself, but it didn’t really start until you had to put one of his old games on the TV for the girl to watch until she fell asleep at your side, tear tracks from her bad dream dry on her cheeks. 
You had been planning on carrying her back to her bed when she was down for the count, but you had been so fixated on Art’s movements; his determined look, his arms, his legs, that you ended up dropping out too. You woke up a few hours later with a blanket over your body and Art standing quietly at the kitchen island behind the sofa. 
“You looked peaceful. Didn't wanna wake you.” He’d said, sipping at his tea, and you knew you were done for. 
Now all of a sudden you had time to watch a tennis match in the morning, play one as background noise while you studied. You had started following his tennis journey right from the Junior Open in 2006 — you didn’t think you'd ever actually see him again, but you could fantasise about it whenever you remembered the smell of his cologne as he thanked you for taking care of Lily, promising a big tip would go straight into your account in the morning. 
(The money went in fifteen minutes after you’d left).
It came as a pleasant surprise when Tashi’s number popped up on your screen once more, a few months later. You had been in your kitchen, and took the call the moment you recognised the digits. 
“We’re a little ways out of town.” She’d said, “But Lily raved about you for days after last time, and we know you better than a stranger. If you can’t make it out here, don’t worry, but we still wanted to try our luck.”
We she’d said. As in her and Art. 
You cursed yourself for lusting after a married man in the uber to the hotel. 
From then on out, you became their primary babysitter. Since they travelled a lot, and Tashi’s mom was with them most of the time, you only really sat for them once every couple of months. The town you lived in was sunny and had a huge private sports centre for professional athletes — a fact you weren’t aware of until Art told you over a cup of tea — so they always came back. You were glad you could count on them coming back — it was like magic, the way your phone lit up with Tashi’s now saved contact whenever the late night bingeing of matches and interviews stopped fueling your infatuation. 
The guilt was almost enough to make you ignore it, say you were busy or just get a new number all together. But you never did. As much as you knew it was wrong, you always dropped what you were doing and drove to that cushy hotel where the receptionist knew your face and let you in with a smile. You travelled that same memorised route to the master suite, knocked on the door and made sure you were standing far enough away from the peep hole that you didn’t look weird and distorted when Art would look through before letting you in. 
It was always Art now. Tashi had greeted you a few times but lately it had always been him — a sick part of you thought she might’ve known about your crush on him, played with it for fun because she couldn’t play tennis anymore. But that was crazy, and you really needed to sort yourself out. 
You would greet him with a smile, push through the small talk, lean up against the kitchen island and watch his shirt stretch around the planes of his back as he made you coffee (On those unlucky days he would be wearing a shirt. Sometimes he would be just done with warm ups and physio and would answer the door half naked and covered in sweat. Those were the good days). Then Lily would come running at you from her room, hug you around your waist and pull you in to play; Art would laugh and grin at you, sliding the coffee cup in your direction and holding your eyes before heading to his room to get ready. 
You would be knee deep in headless barbies and chewed up polly pocket clothes when he and would return, dressed up and ready to go. He would lean down, kiss Lily on the forehead, and press his hand to your back in a silent goodbye. Then he would leave, and you would spend the whole day trying to pull yourself together. 
He was married. He was ten years older than you. He had a child, and was paying you to look after her. 
But he always made you coffee when you arrived — just how you liked it because he remembered. He always checked in on you, asked you how your life was while you nursed the mug that was warm from the beverage and his hands. He would tell Lily to behave for you because We like her, and we don’t want to scare her off. He would let his land linger on your back half a second longer every single time he left. 
But.
But Tashi was the one who would call you. She was the one who made you coffee the first time, told you it was the least they could do for you. She would walk out of her room with Art, smile at you and tell you how beautiful you look in that shirt. She would grin at you before leaving, waiting patiently by the door for her husband to take his hand off your back. 
You were evil. Truly. The guy was married. 
But as evil as you were, you always made sure there was an old game of his playing on the TV when they would return — because then Art would prompt you to stay and listen to him talk about it. And you would have an excuse to lean up against that island and watch him make tea while Tashi excused herself to bed. Hours would pass before he was checking his watch and hissing out an apology for keeping you so late, and then letting you leave. 
The first couple of times he’d simply make sure you got in your uber safely. Then he started calling cars himself, the same ones that would drive him and his family to and from matches, press events. The same sort of service celebrites used, not their babysitters. You didn’t mind — it was a thrill, listening to him ask the person behind the wheel to make sure you got back safely.
(The bar was under the court at this point, but at least you were aware of that).
But tonight was different. In more ways than one. 
In the beginning, all was the same. You were left sitting on the plush carpet of Lily’s room surrounded by lego pieces, a burning in your gut and guilt in your heart. You played doctor, you made dinner, ordered room service after her relentless begging, put on a movie, carried her sleeping form to bed, came back and watched Art play tennis until he returned. 
You had started to run out of games to watch, ones you hadn’t already seen, so settled for an old game from 2006. He was playing against his old partner, Patrick something, and you wondered where the lesser known second half of Fire and Ice had disappeared to after that night. 
Then Art came back, Tashi right behind him, and you smiled at them both over the back of the sofa. Tashi watched the game, something unfamiliar glinting in her irises, before blinking back at Art, “I’m going to bed.”
He responded a little slower, kissing her goodnight and looking back at you, “Tea? This game was one of my most memorable.”
“Even though you lost?” You teased, leaning against the marble. 
He paused, looking back at you. He blinked, “Yeah.”
You drank your tea. You pretended like you weren’t full of shame for standing that inch closer to him. You let him talk until he had nothing left to talk about, and watched him check his watch. You waited for him to pick up the phone and call the car — only he paused by the phone, hand floating just before it, and retracted his steps to the kitchen, “I’m gonna drive you back, if it’s not too much trouble. Saves waking up my driver.”
“Oh.” Your fingers twitched, and you told them to stop. “Sure, of course.” 
Art’s car wasn’t what you had expected. Thinking back on it, he didn’t seem like the sports car type, but his status and riches led you to assume you were about to get into one of the two seats in his Bugatti — you didn’t. The black jeep was expensive enough for someone like him, but close enough to home that you didn’t feel like an outsider climbing into the passenger seat.  
The drive wasn’t all that far — twenty minutes both ways, so Art would’ve been back before Tashi fell asleep if he hadn't pulled into a parking lot five minutes out. 
Your lips parted, eyes following his hands as they slid slowly off the wheel and into his thighs. His chest rose with a deep breath and his jaw constricted when he swallowed. Then he was looking at you, eyes piercing. 
“Lily likes you.”
You were unsure, feet shifting beneath you, the sound encasing the silence of the space and forcing you to stop and blink, “I’m glad. I like her.” 
“Tashi likes you.” 
You weren’t too positive that she would like you if she could feel how you were feeling now — that all too familiar heartbeat pulsing between your legs with every one of Art’s breaths. 
“I like you.” He finished, tilting his head until his temple rested softly on the headrest of his seat. His smile was almost taunting when he undid his seatbelt, “Which is your favourite?”
“What?”
“The games.” He clarified, knowing his question was too broad and that you would have to ask, “The ones you watch every time you’re over. The ones I assume you watch even when you aren’t sitting for us. My games. Which is your favourite?” 
“Oh. Um —“ Slightly distracted by the way he shed his jacket, dumping it in the backseat. He’d lent all the way forward to take it off and his eyes didn’t leave yours once. “I don’t know.” 
“The one you were watching tonight.” He asked then, “What’d you think of it? Honestly.” 
“Honestly?” You swallowed, mortified that you were even entertaining this, “You looked a little distracted.” 
He huffed a laugh, finally looking away and letting you breathe. It didn’t last long, because he was then getting out of the car and rounding the front of it. 
The breeze was cool when it hit you, Art blocking most of it from where he stood in the gap. His hand was still on the handle, but you were busy unbuckling your own seatbelt — the message had been received, you had crossed a line and he was kicking you out of his car. 
But when you turned, legs swinging carefully into the cold, his hand on your knee stopped you from really getting out. Your eyes snapped up to his, and you realised you had been caged — with one hand on the door and one hand on you, Art Donaldson had you right where you had been dreaming of him having you. It felt surreal. 
“My opponent. In the game from tonight.” He breathed, glancing around casually like you were having one of your simple conversations over tea. “He slept with my wife.”
Out of all the things… 
“What?” Your eyes darted between his, but the rest of your body otherwise remained still. Even when his hand on your knee travelled upwards. 
“He’d slept with her before. In college. We weren’t together then.” He was now watching his hand move, like he wasn’t the one moving it, “But then he slept with her again, in Atlanta. After I’d already married her.”
“Wow.” You breathed, mainly because it was the easiest word you could slide out of your mouth whilst holding your breath. His fingers reached your thigh, begged to dip between them. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He was quick to respond. Your legs parted on instinct, and at this point you had surrendered to being an awful person — although maybe you’d fallen asleep on the couch and this was all a dream. You didn’t think you’d be able to face Art if it was. You couldn’t even face him now. 
He took the newfound space for granted, stepping between your legs and holding them open with his body. His hand on the door followed him, taking its new place on your other leg. He rubbed up and down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from his face. 
“I don’t want you watching him play.” He spoke lowly, tracing his fingertips around your waistband, “I’ve seen enough of his games.”
“Okay.” You didn’t hesitate to let out, swallowing the hungered saliva that had built up in your mouth. 
He unbuttoned your jeans, pulled the zipper down — painstakingly slow, but it allowed you time to brace your hands on the seat and the dashboard so you could raise your hips and let him slide them off you. 
You were stuck in your head, but Art didn’t seem to notice since he was too busy folding your jeans and hanging them over the open car door. You dared question it through a heavy breath but he just moved on to your panties, throwing them precariously on the dashboard and exposing your glittering cunt to his bright eyes. 
“We shouldn’t —“ It was a half-assed attempt at reconciling with your guilt, but the fact that you were half naked and spread eagle made it lose its meaning. 
Art shushed you, kneeling down so he was looking at your pussy, “We can, and we will.” Then he glanced back at you, brow arched, “Unless you don’t want to.”
Any sense of rationale had fucked off when he put his hand on your leg, so you swallowed and said, “I want to.”
He wasted no time, licking a thick stripe from your asshole to your clit. You knocked your head back with a gasped moan, bucking into him and hissing when the gear stick poked you in the back when you led back too far. 
You let out a shaky breath as he lapped you up, tongue dipping inside of you before travelling up to that sweet spot and sucking at it gently. You gasped and moaned, hands scrambling between holding yourself up and holding him down. His own were resting on your thighs — his calm and collected demeanour was a drastic contradiction from your own. 
His head nodded calmly between your legs, relaxed in its position — yours, shaky and tense all at once, neck bracing whenever you fell back. His hands tapped soft melodies on your skin whereas yours tightened around whatever was in their old, whether that be the leather of the seats or the blonde of Art’s hair. 
When he finally came up for air, his chin was coated in your slick, and he licked his lips clean before straightening up above you. You watched, paralysed, while he unbuckled his belt, threw it over the door with your jeans, and sent you a look under his lashes that you’d only seen him wear during his tennis matches. 
You had been keeping quiet earlier, but when he bottomed out inside you and started to piston, your mind went wild. Choruses of Oh my God and Fuck!, shouts of Art’s name and whimpers under your breath — it all came tumbling out and you couldn’t even try and stop it. 
Not that you wanted to; your vocality seemed to make him go faster, harder. It made him vocal, no longer calm and relaxed as he had been when eating you out, but loud and gruff. Grunts and moans you had dreamt about hearing outside of a television screen, now being huffed into the air you shared. 
You came with a whine and Art followed not long after, and you settled there for a moment — legs spread in his passenger seat with him standing between them — until you could muster up the strength to push yourself up. 
Five minutes later and you were both dressed, Art’s black jeep parked outside of your apartment building. You hadn’t exchanged any more words, but when you turned to slam the door once you had jumped out, you found his eyes on yours. 
“I have a game this weekend. Two hours out. Tashi wanted you to come. A gift, for all you’ve done for us.” 
(You went to the game. Art won. Tashi grinned like she’d made it happen and then offered to buy you a drink).
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divider by @cafekitsune !!
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bnpd · 8 months ago
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Golden Boy ! ᡣ𐭩
"so this is gojo satoru."
you first heard of gojo when you were a freshman in high school, you first saw gojo when you were a junior, you first talked to him when you were a senior, and then you disliked him. but he first loved you when he first met you.
basketball player!gojo x photography/journalist!reader DRABBLE WORD COUNT: 3K
SPOTIFY PLAYLIST : ᡣ𐭩 NAVIGATION : ꩜
NOTE: basketball gojo is rotting my brain btw! so here’s another AU of them, enjoy. not a fic, more of a really really long drabble. posting this while you guys wait for long shot part 3! okay sorry too much yap! not proof read sorry chat
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high school: 2007
you grew up with a fascination for cameras–photography as a whole–, and the idea of perfectly capturing the moment.
when you first started high school you would bring your camera and a journal everywhere. it was a small camera your parents bought to allow you to explore your life-long interest. 
you were very much kept to yourself. if you didn’t have to talk to anyone, you didn’t choose to. you liked being alone, and there’s nothing depressing about that. you only had one friend, and her name was utahime. 
you were a geek! not in a bad way, but in a way where you had a passion for books, writing, games, photography, you name it.
if anyone asked about you, no one would know how to answer. no one really knew much about you. with that in mind, you were still approachable, and kind.
if anyone engaged in conversation with you, you didn’t shy away—you politely engaged back. 
now, things stayed like that for the entirety of freshman to spring semester of sophomore year because one day your graphics and design teacher, mr. mendez, caught you taking pictures of inanimate objects, offering you a position on the yearbook team.
your high school was huge, and names weren’t frequently known, especially not yours. but those rules didn’t apply to athletes. especially the golden boy—gojo satoru. 
gojo satoru was a well-known name—gojo, itself, was a well-known name—his family came from money and they funded the entire school. you never actually met, or saw him, considering your schedules were completely different. but, in your junior year that changed. when your teacher asks you to go to a basketball game to cover the athlete section since the boy who was initially covering it got sick. 
you’re frowning to yourself the entire day just thinking about having to stay after school to watch the game.
the time comes and you’re sitting at the back of the stands, holding onto your camera, waiting for the game to start. it’s a packed game. that doesn’t surprise you. what does surprise you, is how crazy everyone is going over a mere game of basketball before it even starts. 
you almost jolt out of your seat when you feel someone tap your shoulder, and turn to see someone sweetly smiling at you. a boy. “I think mr. mendez is trying to get your attention,” he extends his finger, pointing, and you follow the direction of it. and, indeed, your teacher was trying to get your attention. 
you sweetly mutter a quick ‘thank you’, to the boy before collecting your things, and walking towards mr. mendez. 
“so, i figured you’re new to this, but when you take pictures during sports events, you’re usually pretty close to the court, standing,” he motions to the court with his hands, and you give him a confused look even though you understood exactly what he was saying, in hopes of a different alternative. unfortunately he does not give you one.
so, now you’re standing next to the court. camera, in hand, when the lights dim down just a tiny bit and cheerleaders emerge from the sides to begin their routine.
you take this as your opportunity to snap a few pictures. you capture a picture of the captain smiling, a few others of flyers mid-air, and some of the perfect routine moments.
after they finish, you find an empty seat at the very front. you think of all the things that you could’ve been doing at the moment. like reading on your porch swing, watching the sun set. 
then the coach blows the whistle and finally the game is about to begin. the faster this goes, the faster you’ll be home, snuggled up in bed with your dog keeping your feet warm. 
you stand to take pictures, and watch as the players emerge from the locker room, one after the other, jogging down to their designated seating area. but you don’t have a particular reaction, until you see another figure emerge, and you’re a bit struck at how handsome he is. gorgeous, even. 
‘so, this is gojo satoru.’
he’s smiling, and you just know he thinks he’s hot shit with the way he jogs over to the rest of his teammates. ‘we’ll see about that’ you thought to yourself. 
and see you did. 
he was incredible on the court—professional level good—.
you took a great number of pictures, ones where he’s doing some kind of handshake with another star player, geto suguru, another set of pictures of other players, some of gojo by himself, but your favorite one, by far, had to be the one after he shoots the final shot, and almost as if he sensed the camera, looked your way, and smiled. a cute boyish smile. you looked at your camera in shock and disbelief.
you felt your face heat up by a billion degrees.
it was the most perfect picture you ever captured. and you don’t even think he noticed because he runs back to his teammates, as if nothing had happened. 
you went home that night in a bit of a daze. a new crush had developed. a very tiny, atom sized crush, but a crush nonetheless. 
the next day mr. mendez asked for the pictures you took at the basketball game, yet you found yourself not uploading the picture of gojo smiling directly at the camera to the USB drive. it felt wrong. 
so you kept it to yourself. 
you still didn’t see him much after that. he was like an enigma to you. everyone knew so much of him.
senior year rolls around and you’re now the head of the yearbook team. you’re applying to colleges/unis, and you’re really shooting high for this specific ivy league university because of the amazing combined photography–journalism program they offered, praying that they give you the full-ride you applied for. 
you’re sitting in the graphic and design room one day, editing some final touches of the yearbook, when mr. mendez calls your name, “we have a yearbook interview for the time capsule and photoshoot for the basketball team today, and i need you to be there to direct both, is that okay?” 
you nod and reply with a simple, “sure”. 
in reality your heart is pounding because you know you’ll have to see gojo again, and actually talk to him. 
it’s finally after school, and you’re setting up the equipment for, not only, the photos, but the interviews as well. 
you hear the ruffling of the setup behind you while you try to position the camera for the interviews at the right angle, you let out a small frustrated groan “mahito stop fucking around and help me–”
“mahito?” the voice asks you and you feel yourself still because that voice is not mahitos’s. you get up from your position, and you almost die in your spot when you see gojo standing there with an unreadable look on his face. 
an unreadable look that studies you.
“oh, im sorry i thought-”, he cuts you off before you can finish.
“hm,” he lets out in a rude manner and you almost reel back at how condescending he looked. (canon high school gojo i fear).
 ‘this can’t be the same guy that I had a crush on last year’
but it was. 
the worst part is, the entire time you took the team’s photos, he wasn’t outwardly mean. but he had an energy to him that put you off. one that told you he thought he was better than you. his mannerisms screamed arrogance, and carelessness.
you kept to yourself for the majority of the photoshoot, muttering occasional instructions. 
the rest of the team were really nice. they’d strike up a conversation, here and there. you, of course, responded politely and engaged in conversation, returning their enthusiasm. but the entire time you felt piercing blue eyes. 
you’d catch him whispering to geto, and even though you knew they weren’t talking about you, it left you paranoid. 
for the interviews, you kept it polite. until you got to gojo. you hit the record button on the camera, asked him the question, and listened to him as he talked about how great and amazing he was. you found yourself drifting off. 
‘there’s no way this guy is that full of himself.’
he was. 
you wrap up the interviews and go home. a bit caught off guard by his behavior. it wasn't that he was mean, but why would you willingly be in the presence of someone like this? and from that point on, you disliked gojo satoru.
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college: 2013
in the end, you got accepted into the ivy league you had hoped for, got a full ride, and were accepted into the photography and journalist program. you looked completely different than how you did in college (you were grateful for this). things couldn’t get any better, but they could get worse. 
you found out you actually went to the same university as gojo. you didn’t realize it until you saw his huge basketball banner in the gymnasium one day. you’re not paranoid of bumping into him here. if you didn’t bump into him in high school, you definitely won’t here. 
but perhaps a party. 
let’s say, one of your friends invited you, and gojo definitely notices you because he finds you somehow familiar and attractive. still, he hasn’t recognized you because you’re not angled in a manner that he can see you.
so he goes to talk to you, and let’s say you don’t take it lightly. you're not rude or anything, but you reject him, and he’s shocked. 
you stare at him before walking away, leaving him standing there in bewilderment. 
he watches you leave, and it takes him a while as he’s standing there but it clicks. he can’t be upset that you just rejected him in front of people, nor can he be upset that you walked away from him. he’s just honestly elated to find you here. 
the only thought in his head is that you’re here and he finally has a chance again after realizing his attempt in high school was not it. he didn’t know you in high school, nor did he know you now, but he thought you were the most interesting person back then. and it looks to him that you still are. 
now’s his chance, and he’d be damned if he passed it up. 
so he kind of finds out where you work part-time, and goes to the campus diner around the corner (where you work). it’s a late evening, and the only customers around were the old couple who visited every friday, the frequent patrons (who were college students), were all at a party that’d been advertised all week. 
it was only you, the couple, and now gojo. 
you don’t look up when you hear the door bells jingle, only gently shouting a “welcome!”, while you’re too busy wiping down the milkshake bottle. 
gojo is a bit nervous, but he pushed forward. 
he sits on the barstool by the counter you're now wiping down, sensing a presence you look up are surprised to find gojo, “hi,” gojo starts, you narrow your eyes at him a little. 
“hello,” you reply back, “what can i get for you?” you ask him before reaching under the counter to grab a menu, placing it in front of him. he doesn’t touch the menu, nor look at it, he stares into you as he says, “i’d like to start off with the sweetest milkshake you have.” 
since that night at the diner he would often show up on fridays, sit on the same stool, and order the same thing. if he didn’t order the same thing, he’d ask you for any recommendations. whatever you told him to get, he’d get it and completely finish it. 
gradually you began to warm up to him. it blossomed into a sweet genuine friendship. after that checkpoint, he would wait for you to finish your shift, and walk you out. 
when your friendship developed into something deeper—something more—he knew he had it good. he was so smitten, anyone who saw you two could tell. 
your first date happened after he came to the diner one night. 
“what can i get for you?” you asked him with a cheeky smile, leaning over the counter with your elbows on the table. he takes it as his sign to also lean his elbows over the counter, mirroring your stance.
satoru’s head slightly tilts playfully, eyes briefly landing on your lips before landing on your eyes again. 
a pause. 
“a date.”
it took him only a single date to ask you out because he knew before the first one that you were the one. 
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now
“daddy was mean to mommy?” your son asked, an extremely worried and shocked look on his face. 
you gently laugh before settling into a smile but satoru has a big frown on his face.
satoru puts his hand on top of your son's head, “well, daddy was an idiot, i was just trying to impress your mommy,” he explains.
“daddy is a jerk!” your daughter then speaks, and satoru’s jaw drops. you’re trying to contain your laughter as satoru stands up and grabs both of your kids off the couch, throwing them over his shoulders as they squeal. your daughter lets go of the scrapbook you made, but you catch it just before it hits the ground. 
you gently place it over the coffee table as you follow your husband up the stairs to the kids rooms. 
they’re both squealing when satoru puts them both in their respective beds. 
you watch silently from the door as he kneels between both beds to whisper something to the kids and your heart leaps as you watch their eyes light up. just like their father. he kisses them each on the forehead as he tucks them into their beds. 
“mommy! we want your kiss too,” your son says. you walk over and give them both loud forehead pecks. 
you’re so incredibly happy with your little family. 
satoru stands up from his kneeling position to stand behind you, wrapping an arm around you. 
“goodnight my little angels. sleep well, you’ll need energy tomorrow for the aquarium,” he tells them sweetly. 
you turn on their night light before turning off the room light, “and don’t forget, mommy and daddy are here if you need anything,” you remind them. 
“okay mommy,” you hear your babies say. 
you shut the door and head to your room. 
satoru is on you in seconds. 
his hands move from your waist to your rear as he peppers kisses all over your face, and neck. you sigh happily into him as you wrap your arms around him. 
he gives you a squeeze, and he swallows the moan that releases out of you in a passionate, and longing kiss. 
“missed you so much,” he admits in between kisses. satoru had been away for two weeks for some out-of-state games, but he would call, text, and facetime you every chance he got. he’d call first thing in the morning as soon as he would wake up, while he was getting ready, during breaks at practice, before a game (always before a game), after a game (you watched every single game), on his way back to his hotel, right before bed, and even in his sleep he’d ask to stay on the phone. 
you’re a bit embarrassed to admit to how many times you two had phone sex during the away games that you couldn’t go to. 
before you had kids, he would take you everywhere with him, and while that is still somewhat the case. the children have school so it's a bit harder to manage to travel with him. 
“me too ‘toru,” you moaned, your tone earning a tiny whine from him.
“don’t do that," he starts "you know what calling me that does to me.”
he leans in to capture your lips again, but you’re leaning away. satoru pulls you closer in an attempt to kiss you again, but you refuse again.
you settle with a quick peck on the lips.
“we need to go to bed too because we have to be up earlier.” you remind him, and he’s smiling at you, “i know what’ll put you to sleep.”
you playfully push him off, “that's what you said right before i got pregnant with our second child,” you joke. 
he’s trailing after you like a puppy into the restroom as you ready yourself for bed, “maybe i want a third child,” he challenges and you look at him through the reflection in the mirror. 
you take in the serious look on his face, and you stand straighter at his admission. 
“'toru–” you start before he cuts in, “i’m retiring,” he starts, “i want to focus on our family. basketball is great, but it’s not my life. you are. after we win finals, im retiring.” 
you turn to him completely, and pull him into a strong hug. “I love you,” you gently admit. “I love you so much more, you have no idea,” he tells you, wrapping you in his arms. he engulfed you in his safety.
you share a moment of silence, before satoru ruins the moment. 
“I’m telling the kids you stalked me and secretly took pictures of me,” you pinch him. 
“Ow!”
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BONUS ୭ ˚
your parents had convinced you to try out for the cheerleading team in high school. and you did. 
it was on a sunny afternoon, every school sports team imaginable was outside in the field. even the basketball team. they were doing their laps around the track field, which circled the current patch of grass that was hosting the cheerleader tryouts. 
“alright everyone, let's get ready for toe touches,” the captain announced enthusiastically. you’re a little distracted when you briefly make eye contact with a certain white-haired boy from across the field then you remember where you are and what was just said. you felt a little out of place, “i’m sorry,” you started, “what are toe tou–”
“ready? okay!” she shouted. 
you stand dumbfounded in the middle. however, you soon find out what a toe touch is as the girl beside you launches her foot into your face, knocking your head back from the force and collision. the impact is unexpected and the girls gasp. 
you’re too busy on the ground to realize a certain boy also created his own commotion on the track field when he collided with his best friend, sending them both to the ground because of his momentary distraction. 
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zegrasdrysdale · 9 months ago
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Can you write about Nico dating a really famous actress, she is in House of the Dragon and in Dune, and now she is doing the press tour for the movie so she hasn't seen Nico in a while so to surprise him she goes to the stadium series and is at the family skate with him holding hands and being cute the whole time, so Nico is asked about their relationship the press conference after the game and he answered the question being a proud boyfriend, please? I love your writing
[ press pause ] n. hischier
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paring : Nico Hischier x fem!reader
summary : after being away for a few months filming and doing press for her projects, (Y/N) surprises boyfriend Nico at family skate before the Stadium Series
warning(s) : one suggestive comment but other than that, cute and fluffy
author’s note : this request has been sitting in my drafts bc i wasn’t very proud of it but i decided to let it see the light of day bc i miss the stadium series. pls lmk what y’all think (the entire press conference is completely made up for the sake of the fic btw)
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She needed a vacation by the time her tour ended in New York City. It’s exhausting doing a multi-month press tour for a show that wasn’t coming out until the summer. She knows she’ll have to go on another one anyway while the season is airing on HBO.
The idea didn’t enter her mind until she saw a billboard on the highway going into New York. It advertises the two NHL Stadium Series games that are happening in a few days.
When the games were announced a few months ago, she was already booked on the press tour for season two of House of the Dragon. Nico wanted her to come to the game against the Flyers but she wasn’t sure if she’d be in the area to go.
Turns out, she is. Since she’s in the area, she decides to surprise her captain boyfriend at family skate.
Cat Toffoli worked closely with a designer to make some jackets for the wives and girlfriends of the players for the Stadium Series. She even made sure to make one with a “13” on it, just in case.
She’s happy that she gets to put the jacket to use since she’s surprising Nico at family skate. Pressing pause on her press tour to support her boyfriend in what’s one of the most important games of his life was the best idea she’s had in a while. It’s been a long time since she has laced up the skates Nico bought her when they first got together during the 2021-2022 season. Tonight seems a good time.
An Uber takes her from her shared apartment with Nico in Hoboken to MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford once she's in something that she can comfortably skate in, which ends up being leggings, a red shirt, and her jacket that Cat had made for her. She grabs one of Nico's beanies out of the endless pile in his closet just in case her head gets cold.
She gets more excited the closer she gets to the football field turned hockey rink. She shakes with excitement when the Uber pulls into the player parking lot.
Cars are parked all over the place. She recognizes most of the cars that are parked. The Devils get the ice tonight for practice and family skate.
With her jacket wrapped tight around her and a duffel bag holding her skates, she heads in the back entrance. She shows her ID to the security guard, who gives her special credentials so everyone knows she’s allowed there and is allowed onto the ice.
She’s already late so she could pull off this surprise. All of the players and their families are out on the ice. With quick feet, she makes her way onto the field. Her duffel bag slung over her shoulder as she rushes to the rink.
As soon as she reaches the bench, someone tells, “Nice of you to join us!” She sits down so she can change into her skates. Jack skates by with a smile on his face. “He’s been hoping that you’d show up.”
Her eyes scan the ice to find her boyfriend. She finally is able to spot him as he skates over to her. Jack skates off and Nico takes his spot.
When her laces are tied, she stands up and Nico helps her over the boards. “You’re here?” he asks as she gains her balance on her skates. “I thought you were traveling today.”
“Decided to press pause so I could be here for you,” she tells him. “Wanted to support my boyfriend after all the supporting you’ve done for me.” Nico flashes his dimpled smile at her.
She takes in his appearance. He’s in full gear with his red practice jersey since they did practice before the families came onto the ice. He has on his Devils beanie with the pompom on top of his head. The eye black he has on his cheeks looks good.
Nico takes her hand and loosely laces their fingers. “I’m glad you came,” he says. “It wouldn’t have been the same if you weren’t here.”
“Your dad and sister came though,” she replies as Nico begins to skate backwards. He pulls her along and she manages to keep her balance by holding his hands. “I’m sure it would’ve been okay if I wasn’t able to come.”
He pulls her closer to him so her chest is pressed against his gear on his chest. Nico’s hands rest on her waist to make sure she doesn’t fall. “You’re the most important person in my life, schatzi,” he tells her. “It wouldn’t have been the same. I promise”
She smiles up at him.
Out of the corner of her eye, he notices all the cameras on the two of them. She’s not even surprised. She’s one of the world’s most known actresses and he’s the captain of the Devils. Reporters are probably getting all the pictures they can get.
Nico doesn't let go of her hand. He makes sure their fingers are locked the entire time she's on the ice.
It's easy to forget the world around her when she skates with Nico. She's so focused on Nico and Nico is so focused on her that it feels like they're the only two people in the world despite multiple pairs of eyes being on them and a bunch of cameras trained on them.
There's only a few minutes left of family skate when Nico decides that it would be a good idea to spin his girlfriend. When she's on the toe pick of her skates, because Nico thought it would be smart to get her figure skating skates, he grabs her hand and spins her around.
"Nico!" she gasps as she spins right into his arms. He wraps his arms around her waist "You can't just do that without warning me. What if I fell?"
He laughs against her ear. "You know I'll always have you," he tells her. "You would think that you'd be able to skate on your own by now."
She shakes her head as Nico kisses the swell of her ear. The smile that forms on her lips is involuntary since she's trying to be mad at Nico. "I don't think you understand that I skate maybe three times a year," she sighs. "My job doesn't involve skating like yours does."
Nico smiles and she looks up at him. "Have I ever told you how good you look on skates?" he asks. "Because this look does it for me. Hope you know that."
With a gentle shove from her, Nico backs away but always makes sure to keep a hand on her so she doesn't fall.
"You are so lucky that I love you," she says to Nico as she carefully turns to face him.
He hums and playfully rolls his eyes before he slides his hands up to cup her cheeks. His fingers are freezing, but she quickly pushes that thought out of her head when Nico pulls her in for a soft kiss. She can't help but smile as she returns the kiss.
It's very rare for Nico to show this type of affection in public let alone at a Devils event. They're both very shy about their relationship when it comes to the public eye, but sometimes a moment overwhelms them and they can't help it.
Like this moment. Center ice on the Stadium Series rink.
She wraps her arms around his waist for a little extra security. The last thing she wants to do right now is fall on her butt. She can hear all the snaps of the cameras the longer their lips are connected.
Nico breaks the kiss and smiles at her. She reaches up and pokes his dimple, which gets a laugh out of Nico.
"Alright, Dimple Lover," he says with a smile. "Let's go. I feel gross and sweaty. I need to shower."
"As long as I can join you if you decide to shower at home."
"We're going home right now."
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
From the moment Nico scored on Sam Ersson thirty seconds into the game, she's been on her feet. It set the pace for the rest of the game. The Devils scored two goals every period, and Nico himself scored two goals on the night.
East Rutherford is on fire in the stands. They're cheering. It gets even louder when Nico is being interviewed by Emily Kaplan on a live mic and he says, "Thanks for showing up. It was fucking amazing- sorry."
He has the cutest smile on his face and waves at the crowd around him. The smile she already had on her face grows impossibly bigger.
When Nico heads down the tunnel to get out of his gear, she heads down to stand outside the media room so she can catch Nico before he goes in and does his post-game comments.
She's liking pictures of her and Nico from yesterday on Instagram. She replies to some of her mentions on Twitter. She even posts one of the pictures of her and Nico from yesterday when they were on the ice at family skate. Almost immediately, it begins blowing up on every single social media platform like her posts usually do when she posts Nico.
Minutes after she posts the picture, Nico comes walking down the stairs that lead to the hallway. He's back in Sopranos outfit, sans the jacket. The white tank hugs his body and shows off his arms. The cut he has under his eye completes the look.
Nico spots her before he turns into the media room. He says that he'll be in the room in a second. Then he walks over to his girlfriend.
"Hi, handsome," she says with a smile on her face. "Nice goals. Oh, I like this outfit too."
He leans down and steals a kiss. "Those goals were for you, schatzi," he whispers to her as he tucks her hair behind her ear. "I had to show off for my girl."
She smiles up at him and he mirrors it.
"Nico, we need you in here," someone says. "Nate's ready to go."
Nico nods and looks into the room. "Want to come watch?" he asks. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind."
With a nod, the two of them head into the room.
The reporters buzz as Nico walks up to the table to sit with Nate and she makes her way to an empty seat among the reporters. The woman she sits next to has a moment of panic and realization of who she is as the press conference gets underway.
One of the reporters in the front row asks, "Nate, was that celly after your goal planned?"
Nate laughs and nods. "Yeah, actually," he replies. The reporters in the crowd laugh. "Chris and I sat down and planned out a couple of different cellys just in case either of us scored. I happened to be the one to score, twice."
"Speaking of two goals, Nico," another reporter begins to say. "How do you feel after those goals you scored? Effing amazing?"
Nico smiles. "Yeah, it felt good, without the addition of another word that shouldn't have been said on live television," he replies with a very light laugh. "No, it feels good to score two goals coming off the All Star break. Took some time off, skated and worked on what I needed to, and, uh, I'm ready to have a good second half of the season."
They make eye contact and she smiles at him. One of the reporters notices that Nico's smile has gotten softer. "So, your goals have nothing to do with the fact that your girlfriend was here all weekend?" a third reporter asks.
"The fact that she was able to take time out of her incredibly busy schedule to be here means a lot to me, yeah," Nico says. "Being able to score a couple goals was me telling her that I was happy she was here."
"So it doesn't bother you that her presence this weekend has made multiple headlines and occasionally overshadowed the game?"
Nico scans the crowd and finds the reporter that asked the question. "I have never once thought that her being here this weekend overshadowed the game," he replies. "I am more than happy to have her here. If she makes a view headlines then oh well. She's one of the world's most well known and talented actresses, and I am proud to be her boyfriend. If that means that some of the attention is off of me then okay."
She smiles and bites her bottom lip as she watches Nico while he and Nate finish up the press conference with questions about the game.
One of the things she's always been worried about was completely overshadowing Nico and his career with hers. Now that she knows that he's proud of her accomplishments.
As soon as Nico is done, he makes a beeline right for her. She opens her mouth to say something but Nico quickly cuts her off with his lips. She giggles into the kiss and wraps her arms around his neck.
Cameras click around them but she doesn't care. Neither does Nico if he meant what he said.
"Nico," she laughs as she breaks the kiss. "This is your day. Enough about me. Stop making me a headline by kissing me in front of the cameras."
He smiles. "I don't care," he tells her. "I'll kiss you in front of a million cameras."
She shakes her head and pushes his hair out of his face. "You are insane," she tells him.
"You love it."
"I do."
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