#sergei&stevie

[coffincoven]

@baddluckclub said: ❝i practice the art of ‘pull his shirt over his head and punch till you see blood.‘❞

he's pinching the bridge of his nose, eyebrows cinched together at the sight of stevie. nothing is ever simple with her, he's learning. if she wasn't so valuable he'd have nothing to do with her. sergei wishes stevie was just a little more useless to him.

"and that's how you make people brain dead." the man being one of his own. or used to be one of his own. he was caught selling sergei's secret to rivals. sergei isn't mourning his death, he deserved worse, but sergei needed to ask him what exactly he told the others. "and unable to answer questions. did you atleast, i don't know, find out why he betrayed us?"

[mseiders]

found three original 1999 salvino’s bammer bears (in northern nevada of all places)!!

[largerhalf]

full credit to @bearrrman for their massive brain and frankly much nicer execution of this concept

[sergeifyodorov]

emotionally invested in my hrpf except it's three guys who all stopped playing 15+ years ago and who are all weird about each other in diff ways

[jazzdailyblog]

The Timeless Legacy of Nat King Cole: A Jazz Icon

Introduction: Nat King Cole, born one hundred and five years ago today on March 17, 1919, in Montgomery, Alabama, was a trailblazing musician whose impact on jazz and popular music is still felt today. Renowned for his velvety voice, impeccable piano skills, and charismatic stage presence, Cole rose to fame in the 1940s and 1950s, becoming one of the most iconic and beloved figures in music…

[ratatatastic]

ill take hockey for 500

"a form of extra circular activity to be taken part ingame, predominantly meant to express displeasure at a play that either endangers one (or multiple) player(s) and/or violates the unspoken rules and nature of the sport"

*buzzer* what is scrum

somehow someway ekky didnt get called on holding (though crashing the net is the more egregious thing here) and i dont believe my eyes this is one of the few times ekky has gotten away with anything remotely considered a penalty

a good share of the time his penalties include existing and also *squints* existing a bit stupidly but existing all the same

florida panthers @ boston bruins game 3 | 5.10.24

special note to stevie noticing lindholm (after making sure frederic was handled by okie for jostling ekky around like a scruffed kitten) going for stenny (who was standing over lauko before carlo also restrains him) and drags him away

[whitenikes]

fedorov Friday must be the reason I'm in the gdocs waxing poetic about that fucking guy

[tsyplakov]

gordie howe ted lindsay yaoi did it...

[thedissociatives]

[magicbystarlight]

Lioness

Sergei Kravinoff (Kraven the Hunter) x Reader

Summary: Your friends drag you to a club on Halloween and you catch the eye of a hunter.

Warnings: 18+, smut, orgasm denial, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, no condom mention, self-deprecation, overall very fluffy. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Yet another work that's mostly self-indulgent, but partially for Lovely 💛

It was loud. Even with the earbuds shoved into your ears to drown out the incessient buzz of conversation, the music still pounded in your bones. And fuck, it was hot. You’d thought the cozy lion jumpsuit would be a better costume than the tight spandex catsuit Felicia had tried to get you to try on.

You sat in the booth watching the club move around you. Gwen had procured it at a discounted rate by promising a table full of pretty girls. Why you’d been included still confused you. At twenty eight to their twenty one, you felt more like a mother than a friend to the girls in your comms class. More often than not they were at your apartment, eating the only home cooked meals they’ll have all week, and enjoying the quiet they can’t get in a dorm. They’d invited you out before, but never as vehemently as tonight.

“If she’s not going, I’m not going,” MJ had declared, throwing her feet up on your coffee table. Most likely a lie, you realized now as she danced in her non-costume costume with a wide grin. But it worked. Because here you were.

Your focus shifted to each of the girls, checking they were all alright. Felicia was dancing with MJ in the catsuit she’d tried to get you in. Gwen in a some seventies aesthetic she claimed made her Stevie Nicks was at the bar talking to some guy you recognized from campus. You’d kept count of all their drinks and so far they seemed reasonably buzzed. But it was Halloween and the creeps were out in droves.

Your gaze drifted to the rest of the patrons standing at the bar. There’s more skin than fabric. One man in particular wore some cheesy jungle getup with only an open vest lined with a faux lion’s mane and a tooth necklace to cover his torso. Not that you blamed him. With a body like that…

Heat bloomed across your face as you realized he was watching you as well. Your attention fell to the table. God that was embarrassing. The rum and coke you’d ordered when you first set down was more water than anything, but it gave you something to fiddle with. It wasn’t enough to hold your attention for long. You looked for the girls again, finding them exactly where they had been a few minutes before. And finding the man gone.

You let out a laugh. You were being ridiculous. He probably wasn’t even looking at you. Who would? You sighed and leaned forward to put your empty glass on the table.

A shadow moved in the corner of your vision that made you jump. The man stood at the edge of the booth, smile playing on his lips. They moved but you couldn’t hear anything. Oh! Right. You pulled out the buds. He said something else, but you still couldn’t hear him. The loud beat drowned him out.

He gestured to the booth in a silent request. You nodded and moved over, biting your lip. He took a seat. His frame dwarfed the bench. And you. An arm stretched behind you. He leaned in, the smell of sweat and cologne drifting over you, beard scratching your ear. “Your costume is inaccurate,” he said with a voice like honey. Warm, rich, and sweet. Something tugged at the hood you’d pushed back. “A lioness does not have a mane.”

Something in you deflated. That’s why he’d come over? To mock your costume? As if you weren’t embarrassed enough. “I’m aware, thanks.”

His hearing was better than yours. A puff of air hit your ear. “Retract the claws, little lioness. I only meant to start a conversation.”

You’re saved from responding by the bottle girl, Amber you think, stopping by. She had a new rum and coke and two shots of a clear liquid. “I didn’t order this,” you tried to shout as she took your empty glass. She pointed across the table. At the man. Right. He stretched out his hand, a bill between two fingers. From the blue tint you’d guess a hundred. She disappeared a moment later.

"Let us start, again, yes? I am Sergei." He picked up the shot glasses and offered one to you. "Though I often go by Kraven."

"I don't really like to drink much."

"Neither do I."

He moved back and you stared confused as he downed one of the shots. He again offered the other. You took it, bringing it to your nose. There was no discerable smell. You took a sip. "It's water?"

Sergei laughed. "A hunt is no fun when the game is tranquilized."

It took a second before it clicked. "Ah. Hunter," you pointed to him, "lion," you pointed to yourself. "Clever."

“So,” he began, plucking the shot glass from your hand, and tipping it down his own throat, “why are you here tonight if not to drink or dance?”

“Who says I’m not here to dance?”

He nodded towards the floor where Gwen had joined MJ and Felicia. “If you wished to dance, you’d have joined your companions.”

You started to explain that it was them who had dragged you out here despite your protests, but stopped. “How did you know that?”

“Hunter,” he touched his bare chest, “lion,” his fingers caught your chin. “A good hunter always observes his prey before he makes his first move.” He was really into the whole hunter persona he’d crafted. Maybe he was an actor. Or one of those cosplayers. Either way you didn’t think it’d be quite so alluring if he weren’t so attractive. He leaned in again, that same scratch of beard against your ear. "Would it be to forward to mention how much I'm looking forward to having your pelt on my floor tonight?"

He couldn't be serious. You weren't ugly, but you were wearing some silly pajama-like jumpsuit and nearing thirty. There were several dozen younger and prettier options he could take home tonight. Ones who could match the aesthetic of his six pack. A quick glance around and you could see a sexy lion and tiger and bear. "Is this a joke?" Your gaze returned to him, trying to calm the quickening pace of your heart. "Some bet with your buddies?"

He head cocked to the side and released you, brows furrowed. "A joke? Why would I joke?"

"Why would you want me?"

"Why would I not?" Your mind raced to come up with a response, but Sergei continued, "You are a beautiful woman. I have not been able to tear my eyes from you all night." He brought a hand up and ran a finger down your jaw. "I am a simple man. I see something I want and I pursue." A flush crept up your neck. It's hard to ignore the hunger in his eyes. They bore into you, dark and earnest.

"You're serious?"

He took your hand and held it against his chest. His heart beat out of sync with the music. “There is nothing I desire more than to ravage you tonight.”

A shiver ran down your spine. Your gaze fell from his eyes to your joined hands to the muscles glistening beneath to the bulge in his—

You diverted your eyes back to the dance floor. None of the girls were there. For a moment he was forgotten. Worry replaced whatever feelings he stirred. Where were they? Did they leave you behind? Wouldn't Gwen have told you? You'd seen her only moments ago.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back to the moment. Sergei was staring at you. He said something. Damn music was too loud. You leaned in, gesturing for him to repeat himself.

"Where has your attention gone, little lioness?" He sounded amused.

"I can’t see my friends."

His chest rumbled. “They are by the bar.”

You turned your head. Sure enough they were sitting at the bar. Watching you. Gwen held her thumbs up and Felicia mouthed, “Oh my god.”

It seems they approve.” Your heart fluttered. The way he was looking at you, the way his fingers had begun to stroke the back of your neck, the heat rolling off him in waves, it all left you breathless. “Perhaps we should get some air? I have a place not far from here. A little quieter, no?”

Your gaze flicked between his lips and his eyes. Was this really happening? Was a man who looked like a Greek God about to invite you back to his place? Your eyes dropped to the tenting of his pants. Oh yes. He was. "Okay."

"Good." He rose and offered a hand.

The crisp air outside did little to cool your thoughts. The girls had been all smiles and wiggling brows as you made excuses for your exit. Felicia had pulled you into a tight hug and whispered, "That man’s going to wreck your pussy."

Sergei's place wasn't far, as promised. But you wouldn't be able to tell anyone how you got there. Terribly stupid, but allyou were aware of as you strolled through the crowded downtown streets was the firm grip of Sergei's hand and the warmth of his body beside yours. A ridiculously long elevator ride later and you were at his door.

"You've been quiet." The lock clicked after he punched a code in on his door. “Are you nervous, little lioness?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

The door opened. Sergei motioned you inside. You stepped into the darkness. The silence was deafening after the constant drone of music and busy streets. A click and the lights flickered on. The first thing you noticed was how normal the apartment was. Well, not normal. Rich. A bit old fashioned. But you half expected to see game heads on the wall and fur rugs. But the only thing that seemed to hint at such a thing a glass case holding an old style rifle.

Thick, muscled arms wrapped around your waist, dragging you back against the solid mass of a man. Your breath caught. His lips found your neck. "Are you saying I am your first?"

"Not first, but," you bit your lip, "first one I've followed home."

"I'm honored," he rumbled. Teeth nipped at the tender flesh below your ear, tongue tracing the shell. A shiver ran down your spine, heat settling between your legs. A hand roamed up, over your breast, and settled on the zipper on your chest. "May I?"

You nodded, a breathy, "Yes," leaving your lips.

His fingers toyed with the pull and slowly drew it down. Breathe fanning across your neck, he peeled it off your shoulders and down your arms. A trail of goosebumps followed his hands. The jumpsuit pooled at your feet, leaving you in nothing but the silly lingere Gwen had made you buy during a drunken late night study session.

"You are stunning." Sergei spun you around, his hands trailing down your sides, and resting on your hips. "My little lioness."

"Sergei," you breathed, hands gripping the front of his vest.

"Do not be shy." His lips brushed over yours. "Touch me. Kiss me. Claw me. Do what you will."

Your hands slid up his bare chest and locked behind his neck. His mouth covered yours in hungry kiss. Heat exploded within you. Desire you'd thought lost to youth roared. Raw, unbridled desire. He kissed you until the need for air became too great. Your lips broke apart. Your lungs burned. Sergei wasn't as bad off, his chest rising and falling evenly.

He smiled down at you, eyes bright, and stroked your cheek. "Breathtaking."

Your stomach fluttered. His words, the way his hand had moved from your cheek to rest against your pounding heart, the heat and hardness pressing into your soft belly. How was this happening to you? A man like this couldn't want you. Could he?

"Sergei, I—"

He pressed a finger to your lips. "You are still thinking this is all in jest."

"I'm—"

"A gorgeous woman," he said, pressing his forehead against yours, "who I wish to ravage until the sun rises."

You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped.

"You doubt my intentions," Sergei murmured. "Do you think I will leave you unsatisfied?" He rolled his hips into you, cock straining against the fabric.

"No."

"No?"

"Of course not, that's not what-"

"That is right." His hand found your ass and squeezed, fingers teasing at the lacy thong. "So, allow me to please you."

Your fingers twisted in his mane. "Okay."

In one smooth motion, he hooked an arm under your legs and swept you off the floor. You gasped, clinging to his broad shoulders. "What are you doing?"

"Taking my prize," he growled. He carried you through the living room and past the kitchen, your shoes lost somewhere in between. In the next breath he was kicking in a door. The bedroom. The lights flipped on and the bed came into focus. Your gaze flicked around. A bookshelf. Closet. A chair. And then, finally, the mirror. You stared, wide eyed, at the two of you. He placed a kiss against your temple and strode to the bed, setting you on the sheets. He shrugged off the vest, revealing his and kicked off his shoes. Your thighs pressed together.

Your hand reached forward. Fingertips grazed his abs. "Wow," you murmured, eyes following the trail of hair disappearing into his waistband.

"Does it please you, little lioness?"

You nodded and let your fingers drift to the button of his pants. You paused and looked to his face. "Is this okay?"

Sergei chuckled and cupped your cheek. "Of course."

You popped open the button with shaking hands. Your heart was pounding in your ears. You dragged the zipper down. Sergei's hands moved to his belt, tugging the leather free. A few tugs and his pants slid to the floor. His erection strained against the fabric of his boxers.

He pushed them down and kicked them aside. Your breath caught. He was huge. It must be against some law of nature for a man to look that good and be that big.

You reached for him and stroked. He groaned and leaned into the touch. Again, thumb running over the head.

"Enough of that." He'd pulled out of your grip, leaving the memory of his heat blazing your blame. "I want to taste you." He fell to his knees, dragging you further to the edge.

He bit into your thigh, soothing the sting with a kiss. Up and down he went on both, only allowing his nose to brush across your mound.

With a bit of help, he dragged down the lace and discarded them across the room. He purred, "What a pretty pussy."

He buried his head between your thighs, his tongue finding your clit with ease. You jerked away from the sensation. No man had found it before. They'd licked around for a minute and move on. Sergei swirled his tongue around it and you tried to pull away again. He growled, wrapping his thick arms around your thighs and dragging you back.

The tip of his tongue ran across it, teasing the sensitive bud. Your back felt to the bed, arching and gasping. He growled again, lapping at you. Your nails dug into his shoulders. Your hips ground against his, pushing his tongue harder against your clit.

"On my god," you gasped your body quivered.

It was so much so quick. The tension in your stomach grew. It was going to snap. You were going to fall apart. "I'm going to-"

He pulled away.

You whined and tried to tug him back. "I was so close."

"I know, little lioness." His tongue grazed over the clit. "But tonight you are only allowed to cum on my cock, yes?"

You whimpered. That wasn’t fair.

"Yes?" He asked again, sucking your clit between his lips.

"Ah!" Your back arched, but his arms didn't allow you to move far. "Y-yes!"

"Good girl." His beard tickled as his head dipped lower. A moan fell from your lips as his tongue entered you.

He continued, licking and sucking and fucking with his tongue until you were a quivering mess beneath him, once more on the edge. And then he pulled away. One of his arms released a leg. Your bra was tossed aside and a hand trailed down your stomach and through your folds spreading your wetness, before his thick fingers pushed into you. You groaned, hips bucking. It was slow to pump in and out, dulling the climax that had been so close but not allowing it to fade.

Sergei added another finger, scissoring them inside. His thumb rubbed your clit in gentle, but sporadic circles. He was torturing you, teasing the edge but never letting you fall over.

"Please fuck me.” You begged.

"As the lioness wishes."

The delirium he’d left you in made his actions seem like a blur. One moment your one the edge of the bed, him kneeling in front of you, and the next your somewhere in the middle, his body hovering just above, the head of his cock poking between your spread legs.

You reached up and gripped his back, holding tight. His cock slid along the lips of your pussy, coating the head with you. "Please," you pleaded.

His cock pushed in a single fluid motion. Without resistance or pain. Not even discomfort. “A perfect fit,” he said before capturing your lips.

You moaned against his mouth as he began an unrelenting pace. A hand slipped under your neck, the other holding your hip in a bruising grip. Every thrust sent you further into a blissful haze. You babbled, incoherent. Begging and praising. Your nails trailed down his back, trying to anchor yourself.

His rhythm faltered. He pulled away, panting. His face was flushed, beads of sweat rolled down his temple, pupils blown. "Turn over."

"What?"

He pulled out, cock bobbing, and gripped your hips. He rolled you over. "On your knees."

He slid back into you with ease. A groan filled the room. Yours? His? He was hitting a spot that had the coil in your belly tightening. "Fuck, Sergei, I—"

"Go ahead."

You fell forward, face pressed into the blankets, back arched, and came. Stars danced behind your eyelids. You clenched around him.

He leaned over you, lips on your back. "Good girl."

He didn't give you a chance to catch your breath as the high slipped away. His fingers found their way to your clit.

"S-sergei," you whined.

"Again."

He didn't relent. Didn't slow. Kept you there, trapped beneath him, writhing. Tears gathered at the corner of your eyes. "P-please."

"Again."

You shook your head.

"Again, little lioness."

"I can't," you sobbed. A lie. You felt the wave gathering in the horizon.

"You can."

"Sergei," you cried.

He buried himself deep. His lips pressed against the shell of your ear. "Again."

You came again. A choked moan tore from your throat. Every atom felt as if it had exploded with you.

His teeth grazed over your skin. His voice, rough and deep, murmured, "Such a good girl."

A whine escaped you. His fingers had not stopped.

"Again."

"Sergei—"

He growled. His arm hooked around your chest, pulling you up. Your back flush against his chest, he moved again. The angle hit a new spot making you writhe and moan and beg.

"So good," he murmured. His other hand slid to your breast. His thumb brushed over your nipple, rolling and tugging and pinching.

"S-sergei. P-please."

"Once more."

"No."

"For me," he purred. “I must feel you once more.”

You shook your head, trying to fight it.

"I know you can."

You whimpered, a few stray tears leaking from your eyes. White filled your vision. Your whole body trembled, muscles twitching. You weren't sure what was worse-better. The torturous, slow build or this overwhelming pleasure that had you on the verge of seeing god.

The coil snapped. Your head fell back, a loud cry of his name escaping your lips.

"That's my lioness," Sergei growled. His hand fell from your breast, snaking between your bodies. "Cum with me."

His thrusts grew erratic. A string of foreign words left his lips. His fingers circled your clit, extending your climax with his. Your muscles tensed, a final cry of his name falling from your lips. Sergei cursed, the last of his spend filling you.

He dropped, the weight of him pinning you down. The smell of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air. His heart pounded against your back.

His cock pulsed inside you. For a while the only sound was your shared labored breaths.

You clenched as his lips met the junction of your neck and shoulder, his own hips jerking from the overstimulation on his softening cock.

"Sorry," you said.

"I am not." He kissed your jaw and slid out, a flood of warmth dripping down your leg.

"Fuck."

He rolled off and the bed dipped beside you.

You turned your head to watch as he splayed out across the it. One arm propped under his head, the other stretched out beside him. You let your eyes follow the trail of hair to his spent cock.

"I must apologize, little lioness, for ending the hunt so soon. I normally last much longer, but you felt far too good."

"Oh," was all you could think to say.

His laugh rumbled. "Do not be embarrassed. Your pleasure is a gift. I intend to treasure it."

You sat up, wincing. You were going to be sore tomorrow. But that was tomorrow. Tonight was a dream. And what a wonderful dream it was. You swung your legs over the side.

"Where are you going?" Sergei asked, sitting up.

"To get cleaned up and grab my costume."

"You wish to leave?"

You stood on shaky legs. "I should get back to my apartment before it gets too late."

"It is already late," Sergei said, taking your wrist. He nodded to the clock on his nightstand. How on earth was it already nearly four? It had only been a little past midnight when you’d left the club. "You'll stay here tonight. I want to make you breakfast."

Your brows rose.

"Unless you do not want to?"

You looked at him, eyes roaming over the muscles that seemed impossible for anyone to maintain. The handsome features of a man who could have anyone he wanted. And he’d wanted you. Why not let the dream last a bit longer?

“Come,” he said, patting the he’d beside him. “Lay with me.”

You joined him and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. His nose pressed against your hair, inhaling deeply. "I think this has been my most successful hunt."

You laughed, a yawn interrupting. Maybe he’d drop the persona in the morning.

His lips met yours in a lazy kiss, the scratch of his beard leaving you warm. You sighed against him and relaxed, listening as his heart began to beat in time with yours. "Sleep, little lioness."

“But the mess?”

“Tomorrow’s worry. Sleep not. I have exhausted you.”

You didn’t argue and nuzzled further I to him. "Night."

"Sweet dreams."

Other New Fics:

A Lady and Her Knight (Gwayne Hightower x Reader)

Favorite Dress (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

[mseiders]

just thinking about sergei’s first nhl goal. imagine, fresh out of the shower one day, a man you’ve never seen is talking to you. he’s american, but speaks a little russian. you leave your family and friends and the only life you’ve ever known behind. you’re just a kid.

and suddenly you’re scoring your first goal in front of a crowd that thought it was crazy to draft you. the assist comes from your captain — the one who drew you across an ocean because you wanted to be like him — and here he is again to hold you. you mirror him perfectly. you want to live up to the number on your back.

your english isn’t the best yet, but you don’t need words for this.

[largerhalf]

ok ok are we seeing it? are we seeing The Vision??

[sergeifyodorov]

if i could be anyone it would be a middle aged mom in detroit circa august 1990. showing up at jim lites' house to gawk at that pretty young thing in the pool. unaware of the Goings-on

[acheronist]

maybe i don’t know about steve yzerman’s eleven second pause… but i would like to 🥺👉👈

Eleven Seconds Between [Sergei Name Drop When Stevie Wasn’t Expecting It] And [Stevie Actually Formulating A Reply]

[ratatatastic]

"Just the way this guy goes on the ice and he prepares... it is unlike anything that I've ever seen. How he is on his edges—he is so detailed oriented. And Stevie—Stevie Lorentz—got a lot of play because he was shooting on him, he was like his shooter. I would go on, you know, once out of six or seven times, we would do some passing drills and he's always working on the things—if he gives up a goal he then the next day he wants to work on 20 different shots that are similar to the situation on the goal he gave up. This guy is just—he doesn't shut it off. So I think giving him that extra day really helped him reset and realise that he's the main reason why we got to this point." "I thought you were gonna say that you started to shoot and then rung one off his neck, and you weren't allowed back anymore." "No! He wants me to hammer him off his head as hard as I can! He loves it! He just—he screams at guys all practise too! They'll rip one high and he'll go 'Oooouuuuu!' It's unbelievable! He's—" "Just tauntin' 'em?" "Yes!" "You gotta be crazy to be a goalie!"

Spittin' Chiclets | 7.2.24 (x)

more annecdotes about the resident 36 year old rink rat that taunts the team into doinking him in the head with pucks and everyone involved is absolutely baffled but slightly endeared by it, more news at 11

"Funny enough I—like, if street hockey, ministicks, I always wanted to be a goalie too! Like, for some reason I always wanted to go in net. You know, probably because of [my Dad] and then, um, you know, once you get dinged a couple times and the shots get too hard you realise—then it's not so much fun after all so... Yeah, it was great he'd always—" "You probably wanted to be goalie 'cuz you're fucking crazy, man! Those guys are bananas! I actually went as a goalie in morning skate one time when I was suspended in the coast, and it was the scariest thing ever, bro. It's nothing like blocking a shot because you're literally just standing there, and these guys are shooting right at you. It's unbelievable!" "Yeah! You gotta get in the way of the stuff to save it! That's crazy! I know, and like obviously gear is like great and they don't really feel—but there is, like, that psychological thing going on where, like, you know, you wanna move out of the way 'cuz it's gonna hurt! I get—I mean, it must not hurt that much, like, 'cuz Bob's crazy, man! Bob loves taking—Well, I wouldn't say loves taking it off the head, but he doesn't hate it, like he—" "Feels good?" "You know, every once in a while—they hit him in the head and you go up and say sorry he's like, 'No, no! It's all good! I love it, I love it!!' and like, kind-of shoos you away so."

The Buzz Pod | 8.7.24 (x)

so speaking of banking pucks off bobbys head and how much he loves it flashback to that day in october of 23 where bobby was doing that for practise and managed to rope in matthew to the shenanigans to the utter confusion of everyone involved (x)(x)(x)(x)

[teekays]

run down on 1991? <- drawn to old man yaoi like a month to a flame

jesus lord where do i start... i prommy i will finish the full primer because there's a LOT and i will try to keep this brief but SERIOUSLY it's so much. good god. but basically like. super insanely talented but very often misunderstood and misinterpreted (as uncommitted and kind of a diva which was like, not entirely inaccurate but not in the ways people thought, and it wasn't very charitable) russian gayboy FREAK sergei fedorov and his humble, nice canadian boy, freakishly good on AND off the ice CAPTAIN steve yzerman who are both incapable of saying normal things about each other (steve's scouting report on sergei in the late 80s was "he's better than me" and sergei chose the number 91 because it was the reverse of steve's 1991 because he "wanted to be like stevie" 😵‍💫) play together for over a decade, win 3 cups together, are C and A for years (complicated situation) and generally get Very Close... and then sergei leaves. he goes to the ducks and then the blue jackets (kj sergei 91 to 91 connection is real #tome) and then the caps which Was kinda good for him but it was never the same. they both retire, there's hall of fame inductions and jersey retirements for steve but not sergei (very VERY hotly debated issue-- a lot of people still consider him a traitor, 30 years on) but sergei has never ever stopped expressing regret for leaving detroit (his hall of fame induction speech never fails to rip my heart out of my chest and stomp on it with both feet like a toddler in a puddle... i'm a red wing at heart...), and both of them are still endlessly complementary towards each other... it's just all so much. like i said there is a LOT that im leaving out for the sake of this post not being 1000 feet long but i will present you with a moodboard: