#which means that if i did go skating today

[puckpocketed]

Trying to absorb everything there is to know about ice hockey within the shortest amount of time possible really does strange things to a person. You come up against questions such as what do defensemen even do aside from skate backwards and do tummy time to protect their goalie? (Broadcasts aren’t the most informative) What the hell makes defensemen effective? What do the casters mean when they say “gap”? What are defensive details?

I love watching games back, I love trying to understand the game. I love hockey <3 But sometimes it’s nice to have help, and sometimes my favourite writers/podcasters collaborate!!

Here is part 1/3 of a podcast mini-series about defending, putting it here so I can have a copy of it in case it ever gets taken down + wanted to share with everyone some of my findings! (All episodes are available if anyone just wants to listen to them!) Transcript + edits done by me, all mistakes are mine.

Published 6th November 2024, Hockey IQ Podcast: Modern Defensemen (with Will Scouch) Ep #1 - by Hockey's Arsenal, hosted by Greg Revak (apple / spotify / youtube / bonus substack link)

part 2

[START Transcript]

Greg Revak: On the Hockey IQ Podcast today, we open up a new segment: we’re bringing back our favourite Will Scouch. If you’re on the Hockey IQ Newsletter you know his work by now.

Will, good morning. Earlier than most of us probably normally get up, but it’s a good day.

Will Scouch: Yeah, Greg, thanks for having me, it’s a lot of fun. Me and Greg go way back. We’re boys from years ago and I’m excited to hop on the show. I’m a keen listener, keen reader. 

[They exchange pleasantries]

GR: Beautiful. Well, today we’re gonna talk about three concepts. We’re gonna break it into three spots though, so everyone’s gotta come back next week and the week after that.

We’re gonna talk about defensemen, because everyone knows they’re important but how do we actually play the position well?

WS: Yeah, I mean, it’s a position that’s still, to me, being explored; both by, I’d say youth and junior coaches and pro coaches alike. There’s a lot of different ways that you can do it.

I mean, I watch a lot of hockey from around the world, all kinds of different levels. I’ve watched guys develop from 15 to 24 at this point, and just seeing how their games evolve and everything, and how effective various versions of this position is. And I think it’s a very interesting area that’s still being explored in a lot of really interesting ways, for sure.

GR: Yeah, I think back to David Savard; he comes out of the [QMJHL] as this high-flying offensive defenseman, and if we just forgot about the rest of his career and you just saw him today as this great shutdown, defense-first player, you’d be absolutely shocked.

I mean, you think about Rasmus Dahlin — kid didn’t even play full time defenseman until his actual draft year, he was still playing forward a ton. There’s so much to be explored here.

I feel like [to get a lot of] — for you NHL fans — to get a lot of value in the later rounds out of your defensemen, take those offensive players first, and we can find a lot of hidden gems later.

WS: Well, yeah. I mean, actually, I’ve said this a few times but your listeners probably don’t know, but I did a presentation during the pandemic at the Ottawa Hockey Analytics Conference about this topic exactly; how, when you look at the numbers and the defensive value of players in the NHL, I found that there were just as many in the top 50 defensive value of players in the NHL, there were just as many undrafted players as there were second round picks, second and third round picks combined.

So the draft isn’t really a great historical gauge on defensive ability. Offense is a different story from defensive players, which we could probably get into a little bit.

But I find, personally, that evaluating defensemen and projecting defense to the NHL is still really spotty and questionable. And I don’t know, in my line of work, watching a lot of defensemen, a lot of the ones who I think are some of the better defenders kind of go a little unheralded, because a lot of the time you don’t need to be particularly noticeable to be a good defenseman, but scouts are always looking for the noticeable guys.

So it’s a very interesting world and it’s a very interesting thing to pick through, but there’s definitely a lot of case studies you could dig into, and a lot of players you could look at as cases of, “Oh yeah, nobody was really paying a whole lot of attention to them!” or maybe people were thinking about them the wrong way. But if you think about things a little bit outside the box, you might be able to see something really interesting there.

GR: Yeah, so let's dive into why that may be. Classic example would be Lane Hutson, so maybe we'll pick on him a little bit, but I definitely want to talk about Rasmus Ristolainen, because he is an interesting case study that we wrote about on the newsletter.

So where I want to start with this is just modern day defending. How are defensemen defending today versus old times? A lot of times it was the big hit, separate the head from body. The puck’s somewhere, but let's separate the head from the body, and we’ll worry about the puck later — that is going bye-bye.

Every coach I talk to now, they prefer having the puck rather than having a head on a stake. So for me, it comes back to this old saying of, “position before possession.” We're gaining body positioning, we're not so much separating head from body, but puck from player.

All right, so we've got position before possession. It's super valuable in gaining the space that you need to have first whack in a puck or put the puck where you want it, or just push it to a teammate. Just having the idea of owning space and there's no better league at this and no league that values it more than the NHL. If you don't do this well in the NHL, sooner or later, you're going to find yourself out of a job making a heck of a lot less money in a league that probably no one really cares that much about. You want to be in the show, the big lights: you have to value this more than anything.

And this is actually the one thing that I noticed about Hunter McDonald. He's in the Flyers’ system now — he was an overager, but I was like, “This guy is unbelievable!” He’s a huge frame, you can’t miss him out there. He would just get the positioning before possession, and I was like, “Okay, that’s interesting, let me watch him further.”

And I feel like he’s going to be one of those bottom of the lineup guys who, unlikely, made it out of being an overager in the [United States Hockey League], going to college for a few years, but has those little details of a defenseman that you see in modern day play, which is positioning overall, which is an NHL trait to the nth degree.

WS: No, I know. I think I would definitely agree. Those are the players that are always really, really fascinating to me because you look at a guy like Hunter McDonald and the production just isn't amazing. But it doesn't — to me, when you look at defensemen, it almost doesn't really matter. That's kind of a very secondary-slash-bonus style of thing that comes with a player.

I see a lot of defenders every year and it seems like a thing where a lot of them, maybe at the lower levels, there is a little bit more of that “separate the head from the body”-type of player. And I think there are NHL scouts who still gravitate towards those guys but, at the end of the day when it all comes out in the wash, it's a lot of the time the guys that are kind of, I hate to say ”boring”, but just very effective, and just they're always in a good position.

The guy I always reference as a young defenseman who, I think, is just a really, really high-end defensive guy is Kaiden Guhle in Montreal. We're going to talk a little bit about Lane Hutson in a second, but Kaiden Guhle is a guy who, when he was in the junior level, just played such a great, balanced style of defense.

He was a good skater, but he had really good length. He was a guy who didn't just lay the body every single time, but he certainly could if he needed to. It was about his lateral mobility, it was about tracking rushes, keeping inside the dot lines, and preventing chances from inside and leading with his stick, but then finishing with the body if he had the opportunity or the need to do so. And he seemed to have a really good read of just how to do his job really, really well.

And so that's been a lesson for me for sure. He was a really interesting case study a few years ago, and he's become a pretty solid NHL defenseman. I mean, on a team this year that’s kind of struggling defensively I think he’s been one of the brighter spots on that defense group there, [he’s] doing a pretty good job at least suppressing chances against.

GR: I don’t watch as much as you do, prospects, but Guhle I did catch. For me, the play style wasn’t very good. He had elements of it, you could see the flashes, but he was just really brash. His decision making and his reads were quite poor. But the tools were there, and it was like, “Can he adjust?” Which I think he’s done a phenomenal job [of], and I think Montreal is probably the perfect place for him to develop a lot of that.

So I think you're spot on like, “Okay, how does he actually apply?“ Having assets is one thing, having the tools is one thing, but how do we properly apply those assets, those tools that you have in a good way? So I think another piece, for me, is if you do have the speed, is just making sure that you're controlling speed and then you're also keeping small gaps.

And just knowing with my high school team that no one knows what a gap is, let's define that real quick, which is: the difference in space between the forwards and the defensemen. So the space in between, “How much space are you [allowing]?” in hockey term slang. It's underneath you versus on the other side, which is above you or behind you. So, “How much space, what's that gap between D and O?”

(Editor’s note: He says O instead of F here, I assume because the person attacking isn’t always a forward. As in, “How much space between the defenseman and offenceman?”)

So you got the speed, shrink that gap as much as possible. Don't give them the space to operate or work in, or, I even call it the space to think, which [it often becomes] for forwards, especially unsophisticated ones.

WS: Yeah, I mean, that's really the bread and butter of a lot of the position. It's so much of this, like you said, gap control. I actually just did a bit of video work for a really high end player, [an] NHL draft pick playing in Sweden this year, who is producing really well.

But in terms of the defending side of the game, he's not the most incredible skater you've ever seen, he's not the biggest guy in the world. And a big thing that I noticed, that even at the professional level that was kind of a bit of a work in progress, was that gap management. Especially because the footwork wasn't amazing, [he was] keeping his feet a little too stationary, gliding backwards and sort of allowing that gap.

And when you watch the NHL that's the point of the whole exercise, watching the NHL and how they play. Forwards are fast and they're smart, largely. The guys who can score are the guys who know how to get through soft defensive pressure, the guys who know how to find lanes and cross up defensemen, and if you don't have the footwork or the mobility or the reach or all of it — all of the above — to track all that and manage it, then it's going to be a lot tougher to do your job.

But the interesting thing, though, is that there's a lot of different ways that you can get defensive jobs done. That's always been very interesting to me; seeing how different players approach the position in different ways and seeing the efficacy of that come out in the wash, and how their offense balances with their defensive ability. It's a very interesting world to dig into, for sure.

GR: Yeah, I think you've got a rabbit hole there. You just kind of opened up around defensive skating. What do clean feet look like? What does defensive posture look like, that actually allows you to have that kind of mobility?

So we'll leave that for another day. If anyone wants to go check it out on the Hockey IQ Newsletter, they can do so. Just look up defenseman skating development. We've got two good pieces there talking about building and maintaining defensive posture and keeping clean feet, which — actually massive base for anyone.

It allows you to have the proper gap that allows you to kill plays early, and ultimately, it's a lot about just controlling speed. You don't want McDavid building up to full speed. You don't want MacKinnon building up to full speed. You don't want anyone coming up to you at full speed. It's very hard to maintain that kind of speed going backwards [that we] even generate in the first place. 

How do you kill it early? How do you get a hand on someone? Or, my favorite example is just proper pivoting. A guy dumps a puck on you, how are you going back? What does that pivot look like?

I'll let you open that up because at the NHL it's almost too good, where you can't see what a bad example looks like, but you can see it's everywhere.

WS: Yeah, I mean, it's a make or break skill in the NHL. It's where a lot of defensemen die. I mean, it's a cliche at this point to talk about pucks in deep, to talk about [getting] pucks deep in the offensive zone, get below the goal line, dump and chase. People make fun of dump-and-chase kind of stuff. But if your team is built to do it, you can do it.

You can take advantage of defensemen in the NHL who just don't have the speed or the agility or the skating ability that some of your forwards might have. It is a lot easier to skate forwards than it is to skate backwards. That's just, you know, anecdotal, but also pretty factual — you're naturally going forwards.

I think an interesting trend that you're seeing a little bit more of [is] what they would call ‘scooting’. You're the coach; I don't know if that's exactly what the terminology would be, but [it’s getting] your defensemen in the neutral zone, kind of pinching a little bit more and having them skate forwards, tracking play towards the boards.

So it's not necessarily that they're doing their backwards crossovers, it's not necessarily that they're entirely skating backwards, but you see guys who are really talented skaters or do have a lot of quickness driving play to the boards in a more aggressive way than having the play in front of them. It's about them sort of tracking that play laterally, which is an interesting thing I think you're seeing more of now.

I think there are definitely coaches and systems that love to play their defensemen more that way, and the weak side defense can sort of fill between the dot lines for them and sort of leave the weaker side of the ice a little bit more open. That's kind of what I mean. There's a lot of different ways to achieve these kinds of goals, and I think you're seeing a lot of different things popping up to adapt to this. 

In situations where you have a dump and chase or something like that, or just getting pucks in deep or whatever you say, when you have a defenseman who has trouble with their footwork and turning around… Trust me, I'm a defenseman, when I play hockey, I strap on the skates — I play defense myself and that's where I fall apart, when I do fall apart. Which is often. But definitely, when play turns around and I’ve got to change directions or change my area of flow, it can be tricky. And in the NHL, I can only imagine how tricky it can be there. 

GR: Yeah. I mean, a good pivot you're looking at three steps total, like boom-boom-bam and you're there. You watch an amateur game and it could be like five, six, seven, eight chops before [they] finally get going and [it’s] looking like a proper forward stride again. [Or just] getting into a good defensive posture and positioning. It's total scramble mode.

A big one for me, too, is just the direction that you pivot. Do you wait for that offensive player to commit to their lane? It's just a great defensive habit in general, letting the offenceman make the first move. If you're making the first move, you're the one showing your cards. It's kind of like showing your cards first in Poker.

Let them make the decision and then you can pivot into them. Now you can get that position before possession, or at least get a chip on them, slow them down. You can either make it easier for yourself or your partner. So one, there's the clean footwork on the pivot, and two is making sure that we're controlling the speed and we're pivoting properly in the direction that we want to pivot.

There's a ton of times where I see, especially the lower levels, players coming up, they're in a bad spot, they're skating forward, defenseman skating backwards and they just chip it off the boards. And the defenseman is like a dog just following the puck and it ends up in the middle of the ice where the forward actually went. Again, the NHL is the best at this so it's really hard to see bad examples of pivoting into and controlling the space of the opponent.

WS: Yeah. I do a lot of work outside the NHL, and the biggest thing I notice is not necessarily the number of chops it takes, but the amount of time. You can see guys taking two seconds, maybe more, to get themselves turned around, tracking pucks below the goal line.

To me hockey is a game of milliseconds a lot of the time, right? I was working with someone years ago who really shared the idea with me that, in the NHL, generally goals are not scored if you have the puck on your stick for more than either half a second or a second.

I can't remember off the top of my head, but it's so fast in terms of; when you score goals in the NHL, it's when you touch the puck for a very short amount of time in the offensive zone and get a puck on net. And so, if you have guys who take too long — and “too long” might not be very long… If the difference is relatively short at the time you're making those pivots or those changes, but the [opponent has] got a lot more speed than you and you're [taking more] time to then start generating that speed to match the opponent, you're in trouble.

And in my opinion, I think that you want your defensemen to be more assertive. I always fall back on the strategy of; make them make a decision, make them commit. That might imply that you do the committing first, but that's where the importance of footwork and tactics come into question. 

You have to have strong support, whether it's from backchecking forwards or your partner. You want to be able to adapt to quick players who might fake one way, go another, and be able to use your stick or use your feet or both to be a factor regardless of what happens. 

It's very interesting to watch defensemen play. I find it really, really interesting to see the different approaches of different players and especially how they evolve and get into the NHL.

But yeah, I mean, [it’s so pivotal], the skating ability; defensemen who can skate, it unlocks so many doors for their career. If you're an elite level skating defenseman, it just unlocks so many doors that interest me. If you're not, and if that's not a strength of your game, then it can be a big struggle, especially against faster opponents. Even if you're big and physical and pretty good throwing the body or whatever, there's a lot more of the game in the NHL these days. Very, very interesting stuff. 

GR: I think that's actually the perfect segue into someone who, early in his career, threw the body too much and sold out too much on plays that he probably shouldn't: Rasmus Ristolainen.

Great case study, great case study from when [John Tortorella] started working with him to where he is now. Will, I'll send in the link here from the Hockey IQ newsletter so we can track a little bit better with each other. 

I found him to be a fascinating player. High draft pick, 8th overall in 2013. Really pretty, smooth skating, big body — has all of the tools that you would traditionally say, “Yep, that checks [out].” And then you looked at his stat profile and it was just abysmal. His micro stats were terrible. I think the only thing he was good at was D-Zone Retrievals, which, being able to take contact, it was kind of an easy thing for him.

WS: Yeah. I remember watching Ristolainen when he was in junior hockey, because that was the earliest years of me being kind of curious about that side of the game, and I did not really recall that being a premier area of his game.

I remember him being big, but pretty mobile, and has some skill to play around with. He did have a bit of a physical edge to him, but it feels like it was that tail end of an era in the NHL where those big, mean, physical guys were kind of in vogue, and people were kind of curious and needing guys like that. And I guess that's what Buffalo drafted him to be.

I remember being very surprised that he was in the NHL the year he was drafted. It just did not look like it was really working out there. And Buffalo just seems to have been not a great fit for him, they kind of turned him into something that he wasn't, but I do think that he's turned into some sort of serviceable defenseman.

But he, to me, is a great example of one that I always look back on and go, “Man, what if?” Like, what if things went a little bit differently for him? Because there was good stuff there, it's just I feel like the development was focused in the wrong areas.

To me, 65% of the work [is] scouting, and developing — the easy part is drafting good players, the hard part is developing them and bringing them along into being good NHL players.

So to me, if you can find the most amount of things that get in the way of that process being easy, then you're doing a really good job. And with Ristolainen, I feel like in his case they inserted more things to make that journey more difficult and sort of turned him into something that he wasn't, which is always a scary thing for me to think about doing to a player.

But it's not over for him, obviously. He figured it out. Obviously, Tortorella found something for him to do, and he has shown a little bit better. But yeah, he's always been a what-if guy for me.

GR: I always liked how Tortorella, after the 2022-2023 season, was doing his media stuff and he was like “Yeah, he's our most improved player.” You're a guy who's getting paid big bucks — I think he was making five million plus that year, still is, probably — and even him, he was like, “I was just bad the first half. And then around Christmas break, I started getting going. The second half was much better.”

Basically, the first half, they were just trying to rebuild his defensive game, and this is true for anything. Zach Benson's another good example of this. If you can't play defense in the NHL, you're going to be out quick. Benson can play defense despite being — I think they list them at five foot 10, but there's no way.

WS: Yeah, no, no. I know. He's a little guy, but he's another great example of a player where I, in my work, I do not care how big you are. I just care about how you play. Even in the NHL. And I feel like Benson's a really, really good example of that; a guy who, just forechecking alone is a really… The easiest way to defend is if he can cause turnovers in the opposing team's offensive zone, a guy like Zach Benson does that extremely well.

And if he needs to track guys through the neutral zone and backcheck, he'll do it, and he does it really well, and he does it at a speed that I found to be projectable to the NHL. And again, that's another one where I was a little surprised to see him in the NHL so fast, but he didn't really look out of place there.

He's had a bit of a slow start this season, but just a really, really talented player, and one where you kind of do look at and go, “Yeah, these smaller guys can definitely defend.” They just — the expectations are a little bit higher, and maybe for good reason, but he checks all the boxes for sure.

GR: Yeah. So for Rasmus (Ristolainen), there's two big things that, when I dug into this, that Torts was working at. At this point, I was so intrigued [that] I was tracking every single time Torts spoke and Rasmus spoke to the media. So I was like, “I wonder what they're actually doing?” Which, Torts can be tight-lipped, but he gives it away if you follow long enough.

The big one was just inside, like too much, he was finding himself, Rasmus was finding himself on the outside. So whether that be outside the dots, outside on bad ice, for whatever reason, or just finding yourself outside, like losing defensive side positioning to the offensive player.

If you finish contact, but now you're on the wall and your player's got to step to the net, that's trouble. There's a great, great clip the other night featuring, I think it was (Aliaksei) Protas [who] ended up scoring the goal and K’Andre Miller of the New York Islanders. So Caps — Rangers, not Islanders — Rangers… Where [Miller] went in soft, didn't really take positioning, got beat back to net, and Protas just put out a stick and just tapped it in, Igor Shesterkin never had a chance.

A similar idea of; okay, good, maybe you got some contact, you tried to make the stop, but you still need to maintain defensive side positioning. You still need to finish on the inside. So if you're doing contact, you can't overreach.

You just can't do that. You have to stay in good positioning.

And the second piece was just, finishing with contact to get stops, like stopping movement. Offensive play is a lot about movement, and defensive play is about stopping movement, AKA getting stops. So he would maybe make a play, or get a poke check, but the puck was still moving and could be easily on the other team's stick. 

So how do you make sure you're always staying in good positioning? Staying on the inside, as Torts put it. Or the other piece, which is getting stops, or finishing with contact — but smartly, not chasing the contact for contact’s sake? Being tactful in your play.

I feel like Risto really just learned how to play defense smartly. He was actually thinking and being intentional about what he was doing, rather than like, “I see a puck and a player, I'm going to go end that!” And then, boom, in the big scheme of things, it’s a net negative. Even though at the moment, it may have, especially to him — otherwise he wouldn't make the play — seemed like a positive, really it was a negative for the team.

WS: Well, that's the interesting thing too, going back to talking about junior players and the context in the draft and how defensive players might go a little bit underreported or undervalued in a sense.

I see this all the time, especially with North American defensemen, especially with Canadian ones, but there are definitely players who everybody talks about how good they are defensively, everybody talks about how solid they are. They're big, they're physical, they're mean, blah, blah, blah. But then when you watch things in detail, it's this sort of Ristolainen-style thing. You're talking about K’Andre Miller where it's like, they're along the boards, they're doing the thing along the boards, but they're losing.

They're allowing guys to get low on them, get through them, and even in the junior level, right? What good is it if you're trying to pin a guy against the boards and they give you a little shove, crouch down a little bit, chip the puck three feet out from you, you don't adapt to that, they get three feet of space on you, throw it out in front of the net, and boom, you got yourself a scoring chance, right? I see that all the time.

It's the focus on the body and not focus on the turnover, turning that possession back over, that really seems to be a tough lesson for a lot of defensemen to get over. I find that a lot of defensemen from the age of 18 to 23, in the grand scheme of things, their style of play doesn't drastically shift all that often.

And so, when I see things like that happening, I'm going, okay, I gotta either hope that this guy puts in the time in the gym and becomes, just, a strength nut, and pins that guy to the boards so they can't do anything, or they figure out a way to get into those situations, take a step back, chip at the puck. Really battle for the puck rather than focus on the guy.

Because I've seen it so many times with guys who are bigger and more physical, they apply it in a way where I feel like coaches will go, “Wow, look at you go, you're playing hard, you're playing the thing!” But then they escape, this opponent might escape, and create a little bit of space for themselves. And again, this is a game of inches, it's a game of a couple of feet, and every inch matters.

So in some cases, yeah, you get those situations where guys like Ristolainen, yeah, you're doing the thing, people clip the hits, people clip the physical play, but then five seconds later, someone's got some space on you and they generate a scoring chance. And so what do you really value, right? Personally, fewer scoring chances would be ideal.

GR: I love it. Last piece to wrap this up, because I think it'll go well into our next piece, which is point play. Shorting the zone.

I was able to find some phenomenal clips and do some photos of this for the newsletter. But the concept of; if you're watching a game in the NHL, if you can see all five of the people trying to break the puck out, low in the zone… A lot of it, you think about the NHL today, is like a swarm. We're going to do close support. I'm going to try to crowd the puck out.

A good way to respond to that is to short the zone, which basically means your defensemen, instead of hanging out at the blue line, are going to go into the offensive zone. And they're going to start with small gaps, they're going to be [at the] top of the circles, if not a little bit lower.

Tortorella is another big fan of this, so you can see it with the Flyers a lot, too. I would say [Sheldon] Keefe is another example of a coach who does this a ton. So you saw a lot in Toronto, now you'll see a lot more in New Jersey, which is  the perfect d-core to make all of this work. So I think Devils are going to be good for — that's going to be a great fit.

But just the idea of crowding in the space, setting small gaps, so when you do start defending, you can either cut a play off early — it's an easy pinch there if you don't have to go very far — you can cut it off. Or, 2; create a turnover in a much better spot than what is in your own zone. Why not make it in the o-zone? So from a positioning standpoint, phenomenal place to start, good way to kill plays early.

Before they can get going, before the team can build speed, and just being able to put yourself in a good spot to take advantage both from a defensive standpoint, but offensive standpoint.

WS: Yeah, I love when I see this being deployed. I think, again, I'm a geek, like I'm a math guy, and even just thinking about the numbers here, it makes such a difference if you think about it.

The offensive zone from blue line to goal line is 64 feet. So you're looking at the difference between a guy standing at the blue line being maybe 75 feet from the net or at the top of the face-off circle where you might be 20 feet closer, maybe 20, 25 feet closer. So you're cutting down the time at which you give the defense to adapt, the goaltender to adapt. You're cutting that time down by a third-ish, a quarter to a third. I'm ballparking here, but that automatically is just based on where you are on the ice.

If you can compress the offensive zone on your opponent, you're laughing. The second thing I wanted to mention here is this is, again, why skating ability and quickness and speed are so important to me. Because it is objectively a better position to be in when you're in that position — closer to the top of the face-off circles for your defensemen.

But if you do have a situation where the opponent has possession of the puck you have to get set up, you have to cover that gap, you have to cover for yourself, or you have to have some sort of system in place where a winger can cover for you if you're caught in the offensive zone. Ideally, you have your defensemen who can wheel up, get some speed going, get positioned well to counter that attack, and have a system that can swarm whoever has that puck in the offensive zone.

I think it's a really interesting trend for sure. It's a simple little thing, it's a concept that you see definitely a lot more now than you used to, but I'm all about it. It just makes sense mathematically, and it plays into exactly the styles of player that I always look for: guys who do pinch a little bit more aggressively, but have the mobility and the skating ability to cover for themselves.

I would rather have a player who tries something creative, or tries some sort of play that could lead to a high scoring chance, but may relinquish some space on the ice, but has the ability to cover for themselves.

And I can at least as a coach, rely on them — not that I'm a coach — but rely on them to cover for themselves. To go, okay, I can rely on them to try these things, because I know that if it doesn't maybe go their way, which happens in hockey all the time, I'm not going to be upset at this player, but I know that I want them to backcheck, cover for it, because I know they're capable of it.

I think that that's sort of the trade off that you have to live with, but I'm totally cool with it.

GR: All right, so we're going to call this end of the day on some modern day defending, and we'll pick up on point play in episode two.

[END Transcript.]

part 2 <- convenient link at the bottom <3

[jelzorz]

202.

Corvus considers himself to be a pretty good tracker. He's just always been good at noticing the little things: broken twigs and disturbed soil and changes in the calls of native birds and such; things that take practise to see and an amount of training to hear. It's not that surprising, honestly, that he notices the change in Soren's behaviour before Soren ever does himself.

It's been how long now? Eight? Almost nine years? Terry's been with them for seven of those, and they've been out and about and adventuring the whole time so of course he notices the way Soren's eyes have started to wander whenever they're in Katolis.

It's subtle at first: a little smile here, a lingering touch there, the slightest pink in his cheeks whenever he and Opeli find themselves sitting next to each other in a meeting or at a meal. Corvus says nothing about it because it's not his place to say, and Soren is happy, which matters more than the little sting of jealousy that creeps unwantedly into his chest. He'd caught himself once hoping she'd just turn him down and had hated himself a little for it: Opeli is his friend too, and cleric or not, she deserves happiness just the same. If whatever is happening between them brings them joy, then Corvus would be remiss in wishing for anything else.

It's better now. He's grown used to it, and there's always something about the castle and its surrounds that Terry wants to know, so Corvus obliges him, and it's nice to hang around and just talk, no mission, no recon, no silly jokes.

Today is the same. The Yule season has settled over the city comfortably, and the festival the common folk throw every year is in full swing. The air is cold but it smells like cinnamon and spun sugar, the trees are lit with twinkling balls of Sunfire magic, the snow is soft and piles like pillows on every available surface, and Soren is wheedling Opeli (as always) to join them for the evening festivities.

Corvus hides his smile because they all know the answer is yes. Opeli has never had any resolve when it comes to Soren, and the facade of being stern and unyielding stopped fooling the three of them years ago, but it's Terry who intervenes.

"Actually, Corvus and I were thinking about going to the river," he says. "I was told I'd get to learn how to skate this year."

Opeli raises an eyebrow at Soren. "Then I can't very well tag along, can I?"

Soren flounders, very poorly disguising his disappointment. "What—I mean—Did I say that?"

"Oh, you didn't," says Terry. "Corvus did. Remember?"

"Um." Corvus' cheeks warm, because yes, he did, weeks ago, and he's somewhat ashamed that he'd forgotten. "Yes. Of course."

"Problem solved then," says Terry, clapping his hands. "You two enjoy the festival. We'll see you when you get back."

Opeli flushes a little. Soren flushes a lot.

"Oh," says Opeli. "I was under the assumption I'd be joining all of you."

"We're here for the month," says Terry, waving her off. "We can hang out anytime. Go have fun."

Soren flushes more. "You mean, like. Alone? At a festival?"

"Yeah," says Terry, giving him a look. Corvus has to fight back a laugh. "Is that a problem?"

"Of course not," says Opeli primly, her recovery always graceful. "I suppose I'll go and get my cloak." She eyes Terry suspiciously as she rises, but she touches Soren's arm before she goes. Soren mouths a thank you at Terry when she's not looking and offers them both a grin and a thumbs up.

He follows her to the stairwell leaving Corvus and Terry alone at the table, and they glance at each other and burst into laughter at once. The air is warm. Corvus' cheeks are sore from smiling all night. Terry leans back in his chair, his elbow brushing lightly against Corvus' arm.

"You'd think they were teenagers," snorts Terry.

"They're doing their best," says Corvus. "And y'know, strictly speaking, it's a little more complicated than how it looks, Opeli being a cleric and all but. Yes. They're ridiculous."

"You'll still teach me to skate though, right?"

"Yes, of course," chuckles Corvus heartily. "We can go now if you like."

"I would like that," says Terry, getting up. He grins at Corvus, and for a moment the world stills, and Corvus feels his heart do something funny, something unexpected, and when Terry touches his arm, it does it again.

Oh, he thinks. That's new. Or has it been something that's been happening for a while?

Corvus finds he doesn't know.

Perhaps there are little things he doesn't notice. Perhaps that's not so bad.

[kyistell]

SNOW!!!!!

Okay so, it snowed a few days ago and of course I was super stoked because snow, and I knew that more was on the horizon for Saturday.

So it’s Saturday. It’s the first day of Presidents Day Weekend, the day of the Flyers V. Devils Stadium game. It’s also the day I was meant to go ice skating again.

I’ve been going through what I call “Skate withdrawl” since it’s been almost a month since I last gone skating. I was finally able to get my poppy to bring me today, and yes I knew there would be snow but it went from a Winter Weathert Advisory to a Winter Weather Warning because it’s a full blown storm baybeeeee.

I’m sad that I’ll have to wait to go tomorrow BUT I am happy we got way more snow than predicted, so I guess I can’t be too sad.

Signed-

Your resident Snow Slut™️

[azsazz]

Out of Order

Hockey!Azriel x Figure Skater!Reader

Summary: You're running late from practice and the women's showers are out of order. In your haste to make it to class, you utilize the men's locker room while they're on the ice, only to find out that their practice has been cut short as well...

Warnings: Smut (oral, m receiving). Steamy (haha, get it?).

Word Count: 3003

Notes: This would prob never happen but it’s my world and you’re all living in it 😏

Belongs to the Shut Out & Penance world

_________________________________________

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, staring at the sign hanging over the showers in the women’s locker room. It reads Closed for Maintenance. You’ve completely forgotten that the showers weren’t going to be in working order this week. You hadn’t been paying too close attention when your figure skating coach told you about it before the weekend hit, still too stunned thinking about Azriel when you’d run into him on your way to where all the coaches’ offices are housed. 

It hasn’t been a great start to the week. Your alarm went off late, you spilled the horrible coffee you’d managed to make whilst brushing your teeth—no harm there—and you split your leggings after a tumble on the ice. Now, you’re going to be doubly late for class because Coach Vanserra had wanted to talk to you about your routine after practice.

And now this.

Clicking your phone on, you check the time. Yup. You only have fifteen minutes to make your way across campus to class, and you’ve only just stopped sweating from the vigorous run-throughs of the jump you fell on during practice this morning. Anything to get the routine perfect, even if it did mean receiving a few cutting glares from the hockey players who were loitering around for their own practice. The chain reaction of you being late meant that the Zamboni flooded the ice late which meant that hockey practice started late.

Late, late, late.

You would totally skip class too, if it weren’t the one that you were struggling the most in. The Teaching Assistant even allowed you to meet with her before class today to go over the outline of your mid-term, and you really need to do well on it.

“What do I do, what do I do?” you wonder aloud, staring at the bright neon sign. You don’t have enough time to make it home, but—you groan as the idea pops into your head. 

The men’s locker room.

There are showers in there. Ones that probably work, too. 

Fuck, you really don’t want to do this. 

But you have no choice, you’re not spending the day walking around classes a filthy mess or smelling like sweat.

You duck out the door with your things, your bag slung over your shoulder, towel draped over your arm. Your shoes are clutched in your free hand as you duck your head, walking faster. Passing the rink just to make sure the hockey team is still out on the ice, you exhale softly, only allowing yourself a fleeting look at sex on skates.

Azriel is fast. Probably one of the fastest forwards on the team. He slides across the arena with a grace that rivals your own, and you’re impressed. Maybe he’s taken a few figure skating classes of his own. If only you could ask.

Quickly, you make sure that the coast is clear before ducking into the men’s locker room. It doesn’t look much different from the women’s locker rooms, with added urinals. It’s muggy even though it’s early, from the male figure skaters taking showers of their own. There’s a lingering scent of stale sweat in the air that makes your nose wrinkle, but you can push through that if it means you get the shower you so desperately need.

You halt, listening for any noise. Nothing. The locker room is perfectly empty.

You hustle to the back of the room where the showers are located, claiming the one furthest from the door. If someone does come inside, they likely won’t take up the empty shower next to you. Something about bro code and urinals, Cassian once mentioned. You pray that it applies to showers, too.

The walls separating each shower come up to your shoulders, and there’s a pair of swinging doors that keep the area enclosed. The water pressure is incredible, much better than in the women’s showers, and you groan as you step under the hot spray. Your towel is hung on the rack, your bag the furthest from the water as you can manage without getting it wet or being seen by anyone that might come your way.

You scrub your hair quickly, and when you turn around to wash the shampoo out, your eyes connect with a very familiar—and very heated—pair of hazel ones.

Azriel.

Holy fuck, this can’t be happening right now. His dark hair is damp with sweat, clinging to his perfectly tan skin. He’s sans shirt, and when your gaze quickly flicks to below the door, notice that he’s not wearing any pants, either.

Your heart pounds in your chest. He’s not supposed to be in here. You’re not supposed to be in here.

“What are you doing in here?” You exclaim, voice pitching high with your nerves. You slap your arms across your chest, even though you know he’s gotten an eyeful of your breasts from his vantage point, way taller than where the doors end.

“What are you doing in here?” He bites back, and the roughness of his voice makes the warmth pounding against your back converge between your legs. Fuck, he’s so attractive. His throat works around a harsh swallow, and you have to clamp your legs together stifle the throbbing.

Azriel watches you shift on your feet uneasily. Tracks you with his dark gaze like you’re a trapped animal and he’s about to pounce.

You kind of like this look on him.

“The women’s showers are out of order and I’m late for class,” you hastily reply, cheeks burning bright. You don’t know why he’s in here or if the rest of the team is seconds from following, but you need to get the fuck out of here right now, go bury your head in your pillow and potentially never return to the ice rink ever again.

This is utterly humiliating.

Azriel opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, raucous laughter and crude jokes fill the space as the rest of the team enter the locker room. Your heart falls to the floor, swirling around with the soap that’s still running from your hair, and slipping down the drain.

Before you can protest, Azriel’s shoving himself inside of the stall with you, uncaring that you’re completely naked and shouldn’t be here. He presses himself up against you and you slip, but he’s righting you, pulling you into his chest where you can feel how very interested he is in this debacle.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You exclaim, and it’s hard to keep your voice from shouting frantically like you want to.

The air becomes a thousand times hotter. You can barely breathe with him pressed up against you like this, turning the both of you and hiding you from the view of his teammates. Your heart still races in your chest, both because your fucking crush is pressing his naked torso up against yours and with the fear that one of his teammates will take notice.

“It’s either I see you naked, or the entire team does,” he whispers, huskily. “And no way in hell am I letting that fucking happen.” He growls and something like pleasure skitters down your spine.

You swallow roughly, “Good call.”

“Practice ended early,” He tacks on, answering your previous question.

“I gathered,” you breathe, but it holds none of the heat that it normally does when you talk to any of the hockey players. Especially Cassian. “You were out there for like, five minutes,” you whisper-shout. You can feel how red your cheeks are, and while this may be mortifying, Azriel’s hard cock pressed into your stomach only adds to your already heightened emotions.

You wonder what he’d do if you got down on your knees right now.

“It’s been an hour,” he responds, and you hold your breath when the water of another shower turns on. Azriel drags you under the spray with him, making it look to his teammates that he’s showering instead of hiding the figure skater they’ve been arguing with for ice time all semester. “Coach wanted to keep us loose for the weekend. We’re supposed to change and watch film.”

Fuck, maybe you were staring for longer than you thought.

You can’t focus. Your entire mind needs rewiring because all you can think about right now is how Azriel’s bare skin is touching yours. How he towers over you, how he’s staring down at you with a heat that rivals a thousand wildfires. Actually, he’s staring a little south of your eyes, right at your—

“Hey,” you snap softly. Your arms are still tucked tightly over your chest, and you hope you’re not experiencing a nip-slip right now. “Eyes up here, asshole.”

Azriel’s smile nearly makes you slip.

“Can’t help myself,” he defends, and this is the most animated you’ve ever seen him. Out on the ice he’s all broody and serious, head strictly in the game. It’s hot, but this side of him, cheeky and smug, might even be hotter. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Can you feel how hard you make me, baby?”

Gods, if he doesn’t shut up right now, you’re probably going to do something you’ll regret later, like grab his hand and slide it right between your—

“Dude,” Cassian’s voice bellows and you duck closer into Azriel’s chest. Each ridge of his impressive muscles contract as he freezes up and despite your heart feeling like it’s about to pound out of your chest, you can admit that this is thrilling. The thought of being caught in here, surrounded by built hockey players, naked with Azriel, makes your core twist with pleasure. “Since when do you have a pink towel?”

You wince. Of course, he can see where the towel is hung on the rack, the dude is massive.

 Azriel lies easily, “Yeah, some chick left it over at my place and I brough it to return to her later.” It sounds like something he’s done before. A bite of jealousy hits you hot and harsh at the thought of him doing this with anyone else.

You clench your jaw, but as if he can feel the way you tense, his large hands come to rest on your hips, soothing across your skin. Fucking fuck.

“Used? Nice one, Azzy,” Cassian laughs and nothing more is said while he returns to his own shower.

Azriel eases slightly, the motion making his abs relax. You want to lean forward and lick over them, but now is nor the time nor the place.

You really need to get the fuck out of here.

There’s no way in hell that you’re going to make it to class, dammit.

You hear more showers turn on, and Azriel removes his hands from your hips to reach behind you for the soap you have on the shelf. You watch him as he squeezes some of the shampoo into his hands before scrubbing them through his black hair. He’s like a fucking dream come true, and his cock still hasn’t gone down from where it’s pinned between the both of you, only the thin fabric of his boxers keeping you and it from meeting.

A droplet of soap falls onto your face, and you flinch, but don’t move. You’re not sure if you can, because your limbs are seized up with nerves. You’re not sure you want to.

Azriel rinses his hands off, slowly bringing them to your face. He wipes the droplet away with his knuckle and the feeling goes straight to your core.

“Azriel,” you breathe, but are promptly interrupted for a second time.

“Hey, man.” It’s Rhys. “You ready to kick the Sea Lion’s asses this weekend?” The water turns on in the shower directly next to you and in your haste to shuffle closer to Azriel, your arm brushes up against his cock and his hands fly out, gripping you firmly to keep you from squirming.

Oh. He’s enjoying being in this shower with you as much as you are.

A smirk makes its way onto your face that makes Azriel’s glorious hazel eyes narrow in distrust.

Reaching carefully behind you, you snag the bottle of conditioner from the rack and press it softly into his hand. His brows furrow in confusion as he answers his team captain. “Yeah, dude, Tarquin and his team don’t stand a fucking chance.” He almost chokes when you slide down to your knees in front of him.

“Damn straight,” Rhys says, while Azriel pleads you with his eyes. You’re not sure if he wants you to stop or keep going, but you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tug anyway.

His cock springs from its confines and the bottle in Azriel’s hand drops, ringing loudly against the floor.

“Shit,” he says, but it’s tight in his throat, like he can’t even get the words out. If someone catches on, he’s screwed.

He leans down to pick up the conditioner bottle and you frown as his cock is pulled from eye-level.

“What do you think you’re doing, pretty girl?”

You lean in close, sliding your hands up his muscular arms, enjoying the way his thick, dark eyelashes flutter under your touch. “Just enjoy, Azriel,” you whisper, your breath casting over his lips. He could grab you by the back of your head and tug you into the kiss he’s been wanting to since the first day you showed up at the rink, snarking at the team for going over their time. His cock jumps at the thought of those pursed lips wrapped around his cock. “And wash my hair while you’re at it.”

“Fuck,” he groans softly, but you pull away before he can rock into you and claim your mouth. He’s been crouched down for too long, anyway, so he rips himself from you, pushing to his feet.

“What do you think about Tarquin?” you hear Rhys ask, but you’re already reaching forward, taking Azriel in your hand. He jerks immediately and when you look up at him, he’s already shooting you an apologetic look, and then another that tells you he isn’t going to last very long.

You like the idea of that. Having this power over him.

He’s hard and smooth in your hand. You watch eagerly as a bead of precum drips from the tip, but it’s washed away by the water still cascading down his body, to your disappointment. If you’re going to be waterboarded, you’re thankful that this is how it’s going to go.

Azriel’s response is choked when you finally wrap your lips around the head of his cock, teasing his slit with the tip of your tongue. The flavor of him bursts on your tongue as another drop of precum follows, and you almost moan before remembering where you are. To keep the noise from coming out, you sink further onto his cock, cutting off your airflow.

“He’s good, but he’s no match for Bloodshed over there,” Azriel answers, and his hand falls to your head, fingers burying into your hair. You can feel the cold of the conditioner and if you weren’t enjoying yourself too much by bobbing your mouth up and down his cock, you’d be worried about the amount he’s using.

“Yeah,” Rhys says. “Their goalie is decent, but our offense is better.”

Azriel hums in response and his other hand finds your face, cupping it and guiding you just the way that he likes.

You take advantage of his help, lathing your tongue across any skin that you can find, reveling in the feeling of it all. Your legs are clenched so tightly together, your clit aching for release. You’re on edge, but you’re terrified of making any noise. You really can’t be found in the men’s locker room like this.  

“Dude…” Rhys trails off, and the suspicion in his voice makes you falter, but Azriel’s still guiding your head, trying not to fully say fuck it and jerk his cock as deep as he can go. “Are you fucking jacking off right now?”

“Yeah,” Az answers, because he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He’s still going to protect you, but his hips are moving, his tip hitting the back of your throat but not pushing any further, so you don’t choke. “So, if you’d kindly fuck off, that’d be ace. We’ll talk at film. Tell coach I’ll be late.”

Rhysand’s answering chuckle rings throughout the stalls when he cuts the water from his shower. “Enough said, Az. You’re fucking sick, but I’m out.”

As soon as Rhysand’s out the door, Azriel’s picking up his pace, gasping out that he’s going to release and trying to pry you off his cock like the gentleman he is.

Too bad you want his cum in your mouth.

You curl your fingers into the meat of his thighs, urging him to stay inside.

“Fuck, baby, you’re fucking perfect,” he groans before he releases himself. He’s all heady and musky, and you swallow him greedily, not letting a single drop escape. Gods, you need to stop acting like this, but around Azriel, you can’t help yourself.

He helps you to your feet and ducks down to capture your lips in a heated, desperate kiss. Your hands find his hair, clutching to him as his tongue traces the seam of your lips, silently asking for permission. You grant it to him, and the kiss turns hot and needy, like he’s been wanting this for a long as you have.

You’re breathless when he pulls away, chest heaving, but your gaze stays locked on his, especially when he sinks to his own knees.

“What are you doing?” you pant, planting your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging deliciously into his skin.

“Returning the favor,” he says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world. He taps the inside of your tingling thighs. “Why do you think I told Rhys to tell coach that I’m going to be late? C’mon, pretty girl, open these legs for me.”

_________________________________________

Hockey!AU Tag (will be tagged for any hockey fic, no matter paring):

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks

[sameatsfunions]

I thought of a steddie AU-

Skate rental Eddie, passing out skates for hours.

“Here you go-“ Eddie says as he passes out the ice skates to a group of preteens.

His shift goes like that for another hour, and mainly it’s people returning skates because the free skate hours are nearly over, which Eddie is grateful for because that means so is his shift.

Finally, 20 minutes after his shift should’ve been over, he grabs his things and clocks out. The next event at the arena is private lessons. Usually they last an hour each, and Eddie usually leaves on time.

But not today, today he had so many returned skates to clean and put away he stayed over his usual time, and when he was leaving the sounds of arguing came from the ice box; It caught his attention and he looked down onto the ice while he was leaving and saw someone getting onto the ice.

He was in black leggings and a tight long sleeve shirt, his hair flew around in the wind from him effortlessly skating around warming up.

Eddie didn’t realize he was walking closer to the glass, being drawn by the perfect man he saw. Eddie was pretty inexperienced when it came to dating, he barely had friends let alone any girlfriends, there was that one girl he took on a date, but it ended with him alone, and a whole bucket of popcorn to eat. After that he just decided maybe it wasn’t for him anyways.

He sat down at the back of the arena, praying that he wouldn’t be seen, the stadium seating lowly lit, perfect place for him to observe.

Eddie watched as the guy skated around with his eyes closed, the only sound coming from anywhere was the scraping of the blades from his skates, cutting and carving through the ice with each turn and twist.

He looked off to someone Eddie couldn’t see, and watched him nod, slowing at the center of the rink. He took a deep breath and the music started. Eddie didn’t recognize the song, it wasn’t some fancy professional song, just one that anyone would listen to. Eddie didn’t know much about ice skating other than the sizing of shoes and the fact that ice was cold and it hurt when you fell on it.

He watched as the guy started to skate, with the most emotion he’s ever seen, just gliding around like he was born right there, on the ice.

It honestly took eddies breath away, his eyes latched onto the angelic creature who was effortlessly skating, and felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

He quickly grabbed it out and realized he completely forgot about the plans he made earlier that week with his few friends, and the fact that he was already late.

“Shit-“ he said quietly and stood up, trying to be as quiet as possible and slip out of the upper side door of the arena.

—

He made it to his dungeons and dragons session only 40 minutes late. Of course he blamed it on work and traffic and anything he could other than the pretty skating boy knowing that he would get torn apart by his friends for being a creep and watching a complete stranger skate.

The last thing he needed was a reminder that he wasn’t normal like most of the people his age.

—

It was two days later when Eddie saw the guy again. He definitely didn’t wait around the last two shifts to see if he was scheduled for the private lesson after the free skate, and he absolutely wasn’t upset when it wasn’t him who skated onto the ice.

He quickly sat in the same chair as he once again just admired the way the guy could glide across the ice and not even look at where he was going. He skated with his eyes closed half the time he was out there.

It went on like that for about a month. Eddie watching him skate mainly every couple of days. Sometimes the guy wouldn’t show up, and Eddie would hide his disappointment and leave frustrated. Eddie didn’t realize how much it made his day to see someone else have a passion like he did. Of course his wasn’t as beautiful and graceful as figure skating, he played guitar.

Just as Eddie got into a routine of hanging around to see the private sessions, and who was renting them out, he was asked to Zamboni the ice for a week or two while the guy who usually did that job was out on vacation. Eddie said he would, not because he wanted to, but because it was an excuse to stay longer and see who was coming out onto the ice.

He left his stuff in the little rental office, and quickly made his way down to the back area where they kept the Zamboni. They taught him the first week of his job, and originally he was going to do this and maintenance, but the job in rental opened up around the same time and he opted out for that.

He threw his hair up into a sloppy bun, and got to work, pulling it out onto the ice. He let the machine do its job as he zoned out just making sure to keep it from running into things. The whole process took about 5 minutes and he was so focused on pulling it back into the area it was kept in the arena - he didn’t notice the guy had come in and started to put on his skates.

Eddie was walking back to grab his stuff when he got stopped in his tracks by someone calling out a kinda hostile “hey!”

Eddie looked around and saw him, down by the glass box, staring up at him. He stood there like a deer in headlights, thoughts pouring through his head.

Did I not Zamboni right?

Does he think I did a bad job-

The guy waved at him, telling him to come over with one simple hand gesture- so Eddie did. He walked down the steps and before he knew it, he was standing there just on the other side of the glass. “Uh… hey?” Eddie said, quickly looking at the ice to make sure it was smooth and a decent job.

“Why do you watch me when I skate?” The guy asked.

Oh shit- Eddie thought, his eyes snapping back to the guy, which now that he was closer noticed so many more details that made him somehow even more perfect.

He had a few small moles on his left cheek, one on his neck. His lips were pouty, cheeks puffy and red from the cold already, and his hair- his hair was so thick and this honey brown, just like his eyes.

“I uh- I -“ Eddie stuttered. “I just like to watch you skate-“ he said. It was so awkward he felt himself cringe deep inside. “I work here.” Eddie said again, trying to help his case- realizing quickly it absolutely did not help him at all.

“Okay…” the guy said his eyes flicking around, “it’s kinda creepy…” he followed his last statement. “Can I give you a tip?” He said, looking up at Steve as he Bent down to check and make sure his skates were tight and ready to go.

“Uh, yeah-“ Eddie knew he didn’t Zamboni right-

“Yeah of course, it’s also like the first time- I’ve done that- Zamboni the ice-“

“At least introduce yourself, you know- before you stalk someone.” The guy said, looking up at him with knowing eyes.

Oh he meant- oh shit-

“Right yeah- yeah of course-“

Eddie stared at the guy whose eyes waited for more of an answer. “Eddie.”

He said, giving the guy a sheepish smile, holding out a hand.

The guy stood up, and shook his hand finally telling him his name. “Steve.” He skated backwards away from Eddie, nodding slightly, and calling out “the ice is nice… better than the other guy who does it.” A smile peaking up on his face for the first time since the interaction. “You should take a seat, gonna be here for an hour.” Steve called out to him as the blades on his skates cut through the ice, the sound echoing around the arena.

So Eddie did just that, he sat down and he watched Steve skate.

[jamilynfx]

Do You Wanna Build a Snowman? (No, the fuck, I don't)

This is part 2 of this post 💖

Summary: Winter has come to New York and that means only two things: being cold and putting up with Wade's obsession with the movie Frozen.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: sexual humor, mentions of oral sex, referenced drug use

Winter. 

A time for singing carols, decorating a Christmas tree and eating unhealthy amounts of gingerbread. For some, an ideal season for various, cold-oriented activities that include skiing, snowball fighting or drinking hot chocolate right after ice-skating on the overpriced ice-rinks in the city center. 

You hate it all passionately.

Well, maybe decorating a Christmas tree is somewhat enjoyable and worth looking forward to but other activities that require being outside during winter are a hard no for you. 

Which brings you to the problem you encounter every other time that the weather decides it’s high time to spawn tons of snow in the city, or, more accurately, a problem with Wade’s obsession over that godforsaken children’s movie.

“Do you wanna build a snooooowmaaan?! COME ON, LET’S GO AND PLAY.”

Logan growls for, what seems to be, the hundredth time in an hour. Al looks defeated and only Laura completely ignores Wade’s crazy bouncing and twirling in favor of cutting out a perfect circle out of the cookie dough.

“Shut the fuck up, bub. No one wants to build a snowman with you,” Logan grumbles lowly, getting the volume all the way up on the TV, since it’s difficult to hear anything through Wade’s singing. 

Laura makes a face. 

“Ouch, that was a bit harsh, even for you.” 

“Sorry if I’ve had enough of this performance that’s going on for two hours now!” he exclaims heatedly but without real irritation behind it. That’s his way of saying that Wade really got on his nerves and he’s almost reached his daily limit for Wade’s bullshit.

“It’s fine, Lo, don’t shout,” you say with love, cutting out your own shape in a dough, a crooked star with rough, uneven edges. Making cookies is something that you enjoy doing, mostly because it’s all done inside the house, not outside, where all hell breaks loose. “Why don’t you go by yourself, Wade?” 

He looks kinda cute with Elsa’s costume he’s thrown on his suit and a plastic tiara set atop a blond wig he’s stitched to his head but hearing the same song being performed over and over again starts to tug on your nerves, too, especially when you know Wade is completely serious in saying he wants to build a snowman.      

“Because it’s BOOOORING! I would ask Al, but, well, she can’t fucking see, can you imagine what the snowman would look like if I did that with her? A fucking carrot up his ass, that’s what would happen! And the only snow she likes ain’t the one outside, hot pups.”

Al, sitting beside Logan on the couch, sighs loudly and nudges Logan’s side with her elbow. 

“What’s on now?”

“Hot pups?” you question, raising your brows and smiling at Laura, who tries not to laugh.

“That’s new,” Logan comments on a nickname that Wade’s just made up, simultaneously switching between the channels. “A western, soap opera or reality…”

“Reality!” Both Al and Laura are unanimous on this one. Logan changes the channel to trash reality tv without any protest.

“Exactly, hot pups or baby girl, that’s basically the same thing. Anyway, I’m not asking Laura because she’s our guest and I for sure won’t ask peanut, don’t wanna end up with that claws up my ass today. Something else would be fine, tho.” Wade winks to Logan who only rolls his eyes, not once looking in Wade’s direction. “I was gonna ask you but you hate winter activities, besides that one time when you sucked my dick in the park after we went to a Jonas Brothers concert.”

You almost get a whiplash from the way your head turns to look at him, your cheeks immediately turning a deep shade of red. 

“Wade!”  

Althea looks visibly disgusted, Laura blinks a few times muttering damn under her breath and Logan stares at you with and you haven’t done that to me? look on his face. You stifle an urge to run to the bathroom and not come out for the rest of the evening, covering your face with your hands.

“Motherfucker, I wish I was deaf,” Al laments out loud with Wade’s sick laughter as her background before he starts do you wanna build a snowman all over again. 

“Someone has to go out and build that damn snowman with him, I can’t hear a fucking thing!” Logan shouts abuse, his patience running thin judging by the way his claws unsheathe in his left hand. 

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Laura suggests good-naturedly for you to only whine in surrender. That’s enough chaos for this evening.  

“No, I’ll go with him,” you sigh with exasperation and get up to go get dressed. “But you’re soooo going down on me after this, Wade!” 

As soon as the sentence leaves your mouth, Wade squeaks excitedly, running to get his brand-new Frozen mittens, which he managed to yank out of a little girl’s hands while you were at the thrift store last week. 

“You got it, baby girl!” he exclaims and high-fives Laura on his way out, not waiting for you to catch up. You can only hear his do you wanna build a snowman while he hurries down the stairs of your compound.

Al, Laura and Logan all seem to breathe out in relief, focusing all their attention on the TV show that’s currently on. 

Even Mary doesn’t perk up from Logan’s lap and you can’t help but feel a little bit betrayed. 

______________

You have to admit, it’s not all that bad.

Wade does everything in his power to make it enjoyable for you, despite the low temperature and cold wind that blows in your face every other minute. There’s a lot of snow outside which makes for a really long snowman-building session, turning Wade into a literal five year old, but he still manages to make you laugh multiple times. You can’t really be cross with him when he’s having such a good time and, after your initial reluctance, you find yourself having a great time, too. 

The snowman turns out really cute and quite big, three sizable balls of snow each atop of the other, now standing guard in front of the entrance to your building. Somewhere between creating the top ball and sticking branches into the snowman’s sides to imitate arms, Laura comes down and says goodbye, reminding you both how late it is and that you should probably wrap the whole thing up. 

Now, you’re so cold it’s difficult to think straight. Your hands are shaking, teeth clattering and you’re sure that your lips have the color of a ripe plum. 

“We’ve made one hell of a snowman together, baby girl.” 

Your body trembles involuntarily but you smile happily, once again inspecting your work. 

“Yeah, we did.”

Wade hugs you closely and kisses your forehead, then your blue lips. 

“Come on, hot pups, let’s get you back to the warmth.”

Thank god you don’t have to go far. As soon as you’re back in the apartment, you ditch your shoes and outside clothes, which makes you feel even colder than when you were outside. It’s quiet inside, which means that Al is probably already asleep. Wade is somewhere behind you when you find Logan already in bed, Mary snuggled in between his legs, your old man reading a book. 

“All done? How was it?” he asks, setting the book aside and immediately raising the covers for you to join him. 

“COLD! Fuck!” 

You jump on the bed, choosing the quickest way to find yourself in Logan’s warm arms. Mary definitely doesn’t approve, getting her little ass up and pattering towards Wade, who has just entered the room. 

“Fuckin’ A, that’s what our snowman is, peanut,” he says, taking Mary up into his arms, kissing her and then setting her back on the bed to undress properly. Logan gives him a foul look.  

“She’s freezing, you idiot,” he grumbles at Wade, then smiles at you encouragingly. “Come ‘ere, bub,” Logan spurs you on, opening his arms for you and offering his chest to be your private pillow. You gladly accept, letting your body tremble and your teeth clatter as much as they want to while snuggling up in Logan’s embrace, your cold arms finding their way onto his back, your head falling into place half on his shoulder and half on his chest, allowing you to glue the front of your cold body to his heated one. He weaves his fingers into your hair while his other palm comes to rest on your waist, pulling you as close as it’s physically possible. 

Wade follows quickly behind to lock you in between them. When glorious heat starts radiating from both of them, enveloping you on both sides, you sigh contentedly, kissing up Logan’s chest, then finding the best slot for your cheek and straight up fawning on Logan.  

“I still want that head, asshole,” you mumble already half-asleep, feeling Wade’s hands roam over your legs and belly when he’s aligning himself with your back, covering your body with his and slowly heating you up from behind, making you melt against him. He throws his arm over your body to reach Logan, who growls warningly. 

“One day, I’m biting it off, you fucker.”

“Yeah, do it, it’s gonna grow back anyway, Wolvie,” Wade says mockingly, then trails the kisses behind your ear. “I’ll wake you up with it, snookums. Deal?” he asks, his low tone is making you shiver but this time it’s not out of cold. 

You smile dreamily, pressing your butt into his hips.

“Deal.”

[christhopersturniolo]

୨ HOCKEY PROBLEMS ୧

summary: you have been having some problems in your relationship with Chris, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t loves you.

notes: this is my first time writing a fanfic, I've always wanted to create one since 2020. english isn't my first language, it's probably not very detailed and there might be some mistakes, so don't expect too much lol. but give me feedback tho, l'd love to know what you think!

warnings: sexual assault, cussing, fluff, about three thousand words I think.

୨୧

My relationship with my boyfriend Chris is not the best. Well, at least, not now.

Lately we’ve been arguing all day long over stupid things, like who gets the last slice of pizza, or who gets the last word in a discussion. And it always ends in the same way. Silent treatment, from both sides. But it's not like Chris or I enjoy it. Most nights, I hear him in the bathroom, where he spend hours in tears. It’s horrible and makes me feel like a piece of shit. Hearing him cry only adds to my own feelings of guilt.

And how do we make things up? Sex, over and over. He would fuck the attitude out of me if he had to.

Me and Chris made a pinky promise that I would never miss any of his Hockey games. And I never did, cause i know how much my presence is important to him. And especially cause we are always in good terms the days before any of his games, but not today, we just argued again about nothing, we haven't talked for the past two days.

Nick and Matt, Chris's brothers, usually text me and offer to pick me up for Chris's games, but this time, their texts never came. It’s like they knew how our relationship was going. Chris definitely told them something.

Now you see myself driving to the arena where he plays in, the game is about to start in 20 minutes, and with this traffic, I don’t know if I will be there in time.

Red sign for the past 5 minutes. I have cars in front of me, behind me and next to me. Fuck. I start getting anxious. My nerves are on edge. I bit my nails subconsciously, the habit I got from my dad. My leg starts shaking. I can’t mess up things even more, I gotta be there, I have to be there.

After what feels like an eternity stuck in traffic, the car in front of me finally starts moving. I let out a sigh of relief as I find a parking spot. After that, I enter the venue where Chris plays (Which wasn’t that big, cause he plays in a small team in our city.)

Before taking a seat I scan the crowd anxiously, searching for any familiar faces, no one, I can’t find anyone, not even his two brothers. “Fuck it” I mumble to myself and I just get in a seat with some random people next to me.

The game is about to start, the crowd is already cheering. The players are drinking water and getting ready to get in the rink. My eyes examine each one of them, looking for Chris, number three. He was with a serious face. ‘Are he’s eyes red?’ I think to myself as I narrow my eyes, my vision is bad as shit, but I can tell he’s eyes are all puffy. He has some big dark circles underneath his pretty blue eyes, he looks fucking exhausted, It was evident that he was crying just now.

The players finally begin to take to the ice, their skates gliding across the surface as they prepare for the game to begin.

On Chris's team, there are six talented players, used to winning every single game. However, this time, they were against a really good team. Chris hated that team. I hated that team. Well, not really the team, but one of the players: Cam, Cameron.

Cam is a completely fucking jerk, in college he would always try to hit on me, but I’ve never really went with his face, what would get on his nerves, especially when I started dating Chris. It went to the point where he would force me to have intimate things with him. He was the worst human alive, and I would do anything to see him dead.

FLASHBACK

I just had PE, finding myself alone in the girls locker room as I change clothes. The sound of the front door opening echoed, followed by quiet footsteps creeping up behind me, sending shivers down my spine. I try to ignore it.

As I slipped my shirt back on, I felt two hands grip the sides of my hips, and a warm breath brushed against my neck. I freeze for two seconds. I know this is not Chris. Without thinking, I instinctively push the hands away and I turn around quickly, only to come face to face with Cameron.

I glare at him, my heart racing with a mix of fear and anger. His smirk widens as he takes a step closer, invading my personal space. "What's the rush, sweetheart?" He whispers, his voice dripping with arrogance.

I take a step back feeling the wall behind me getting closer "What are you even doing here? Get the fuck away from me, Cameron" I say firmly, trying to sound like i’m not scared, but the reality is that I’m pissing my pants.

He chuckles like he’s making fun of me, his eyes glinting with malice. "Or what? You'll tell your precious boyfriend Chris?" He teases, moving closer until I can feel his breath on my face. grabbing my waist and pinning them against the wall. "Come on, babe, you know you want it as much as I do.." he affirms, leaning in to kiss me, touching his lips on mines.

“Get the fuck away!” I whisper yell as i try to punch him away but he grabs my wrists. I struggle against his hold, but his grip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin, definitely leaving red marks.

I don’t know what to do. I can’t move. I start panicking. This is my end.

Tears blur my vision as I plead "Cameron, stop!" My voice trembles with fear as he kisses me, his lips rough and demanding against mine. Each kiss is a painful reminder of my vulnerability. Each kiss feels like a violation. I feel dirty, tainted by his touch everywhere in my body. A wave of nausea churns in the pit of my stomach as I try to move him away from me.

"Stop fucking fighting, you are not getting away from me" He murmurs against my lips "You deserve this, you want this.” I try to move as he keeps pinning me "You think I don’t see the eyes you give me when I walk by? Huh slut?" He scoffs, his hot breath against my face. "You were begging for this."

“I wasn’t begging for any of this. I never gave him any ‘eyes,’ he’s fucking delusional!” I think to myself, but my words remain trapped in my throat, suffocated.

As his lips travel down to my neck, leaving a trail of unwanted kisses, I can’t do anything more than start crying and screaming, kicking my legs and arms.

I never went back to those lockers again.

END OF THE FLASHBACK

I hated him so fucking much, and Chris did even more. And now, they are about to compete against each other.

The moment Chris stepped onto the rink, I could see his eyes looking for someone known on the crowd. Desperately, I raised my hand and waved, hoping he would spot me. And he did. His face automatically softened into a gentle smile, erasing some of the tension that had been weighing on me, but he was still with his tired eyes.

The game started with an intensity that matched the tension in the air. Both teams were determined to win. Cameron eyes were burning with rage. At this point, they weren’t competing as a team, it wasn’t about the game, it was about their personal life.

As the game progressed, the rivalry between them two escalated. They began to argue on the ice, each vying for control of the puck with increasing aggression.

Chris managing to gain possession of the puck and score two goals in less than five minutes. But Cam, folded by his own anger, refused to back down. Without thinking he charged towards him at full speed. Cameron swung his stick, causing Chris to trip and fall hard onto the ice.

“What the fuck is he doing?” I say out loud as I get up from my seat to get a better view. Chris remained on the ground for what felt like an eternity, clearly in pain. Every player on the ice stopped and looked around confused without knowing what to do, but not Cameron. He keeps going with the puck in direction to make a goal, with a visible smile on his lips. But then he notices how everyone really stopped and he slows down too, annoyed, not showing any regret.

The thing is, my boyfriend is in a fetal position on the ice, unable to move and no one is doing anything about it? That’s not happening, not with Chris. Without a second thought, I get up from my seat, whispering apologies to those I brushed past as I made my way to the rink. Ignoring the stares and comments from the crowd, I stepped onto the ice, my focus solely on reaching Chris. I get in the rink. I don’t give a shit about who’s watching me.

Kneeling beside Chris. His nose was bleeding, he looked pale and disoriented. Gently, I placed a hand on his shoulder, my voice trembling with concern. "Chris" I whisper, my voice shaking "Are you okay? Please look at me..” I beg in a desperate tone

Chris struggled to respond, his voice barely above a whisper as he fought through the pain "Y-Yeah.. I’m fine.." His eyes half-closed in discomfort.

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps drew my attention, and I glanced up to see some of the players from both teams getting around us, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern. Sensing the seriousness of the situation, a few of them hurried off to get help, while others stood by, unsure of what to do.

“Is he okay?” One of Chris's teammates asked as he knelt beside me, his voice filled with worry.

My anxiety spiked at the sight of Chris's condition, and I couldn't help but let my frustration show. "No, he’s not!" I replied, my voice unintentionally louder than intended. "Don’t you guys have nurses or some kind of medical staff here?!"

The teammate glanced back at me, his expression uncertain. "Yeah, I’m pretty sure they're on their way, don’t worry, he will be fine” He said sounding unsure.

I gently place Chris head on my lap, whispering sweet and calming words on his ear while we wait for someone help us. What I was saying was comforting me more than Chris.

Finally the arena's medical staff arrived, urging us to clear the area around Chris. They place him on a stretcher and wheeling him out of the rink. As they took Chris away, I followed closely behind them, my steps quickening to keep pace with their hurried movements. "Hey, excuse me," I called out to one of the workers, my voice tinged with desperation "Is it okay if I stay with him?" But they seemed way too focused on their task, ignoring me completely as they rushed Chris to a small emergency room they had here, leaving me behind on the hallway, my heart pounded with worry and frustration. But before I could even process what was happening, a familiar voice cut through the silence. I turn around,

Cameron.

"Look who it is" He says, his gaze fixated on me with an unsettling intensity. "Never thought I'd see you here, playing the concerned girlfriend” He chuckles.

My blood boiled at his words, the memories of his unwanted advances and aggressive behavior flooding back with nauseating clarity. "You're sick, Cameron." My voice trembling with rage “You can’t even stand losing a fucking game, you are insane.” I stay some seconds in silence before talking again "You better stay the hell away from me and Chris."

Cameron's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he reveled in my discomfort. "Or what?" He teases, taking a step closer "You gonna hit me? Huh?” He talks in a mocking way

I raised my hand and delivered a good slap on his left cheek, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. "I fucking hate you!" I yell, my voice trembling with rage as I glared at him with undisguised contempt.

Before Cameron could react, the sound of approaching footsteps coming in our attention, and I glanced up to see some of Chris's teammates rushing towards us, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.

"What's going on here?" The same blonde guy with a four in his shirt asks, his voice tinged with urgency as he eyed Cameron with suspicion.

"Nothing," he muttered, attempting to regain his composure, "I was just.. checking on Chris. But the workers said we have to wait, and unfortunately, I've got somewhere else to be." Cameron lies, fuck he’s good at lying.

He gets closer to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it gently. “I hope he gets better” He said in a fake nice tone, like he means it, I move his hand away from me, making him get slightly angry again, he leaves. I watch him go, feeling a sense of relief wash over me knowing that he was finally out of here.

Turning back to Chris's teammate, I say “Anyways..” I take a deep breath “I will just wait here until they say something”

The blonde one nods understanding. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan to me” He replies, his voice filled with sympathy “So, the game was canceled, and we got shit to do, so we can’t really wait here”

“Yeah sure, no problem, I understand” I respond, I try to sound so nice as he is sounding “I'll make sure Chris texts you guys after he leaves the room.”

Chris's teammate nodded appreciatively and they all began to leave to the same direction as Cameron. I sit into a chair next to the door where Chris was, my mind racing thinking about Chris.

Some good ten minutes after, one of the workers is leaving the room, I look up at him, catching his attention. “Excuse me,” I begin, my voice laced with anticipation “can I see Chris?”

He nods, offering a small smile. “Of course, go ahead” He replies kindly before disappearing down the hallway.

Before I enter the room, I take a few deep breaths to control my anxiety. Knocking gently on the door, I slowly open it. He was sitting in a long bench with elastic bandage on his ankle and wrist. Chris's eyes light up at the moment he sees me and a warm smile spreads across his face.

“Shit Chris, I just slapped Cameron in the face!” I say as I close the door behind me. Chris immediately starts laughing. his laugh is contagious. I sit down next to him. “You did not” He keeps laughing

“What’s so funny? I’m being serious” I chuckle, feeling the tension ease from my mind as Chris's laughter fills the room.

"I'm sorry, babe" he says between laughs "But when was that?”

“Literally like fifteen minutes ago! Gosh he’s so fucking annoying! And did you see the way he literally made you fall on purpose? I could break his face right now” I say in a dramatic tone, making him laugh even more.

“Anyways he doesn’t matter..” I look around thinking about what to say “So what did the nurses say?”

Chris's laughter subsides as he leans back against the bench, his expression growing more serious “Nothing much.. I just sprained my foot and my wrist, but nothing much”

“Nothing much?!” I say slightly shocked with his words.

Chris chuckles softly, shaking his head at my reaction. "Okay, maybe it's a bit more than 'nothing much,' but I'll survive" He says with a reassuring smile, though I can see the pain behind his eyes.

I gently reach his injured hand, my thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of his hand. "I'm just glad it's nothing too serious," I say softly, my voice filled with genuine concern. "But still, I can't believe Cameron did that to you! He's such a pussy!" My last sentence makes Chris laugh again.

As I watch him, a sense of relief washes over me, knowing that despite everything, we are still able to find humor in the situation.

Some minutes talking until the silence fills back the room. We are definitely both thinking about the argument we had days ago, cause we didn’t talked since.

“I.. I wasn’t expecting for you to watch the game today” Chris says slightly looking down.

I stay in silence for some seconds “Listen, Chris" I begin, my voice soft but determined "About the arguments we've been having lately.. I know things haven't been the best.. But..” I sigh “But I still care about you, and I always will.”

Chris looks up at me, his eyes softening with emotion as he listens to my words. "I care about you too" He says, his voice filled with sincerity. "I hate that we've been arguing so much, especially over stupid shit.. I just.. I don't want to lose you.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I reach out to gently cup his cheek. "You're not going to lose me, Chris." I assure him. My thumb brushing over his skin affectionately.

He gently buries his face on the crook of my neck, I lay my chin on the top of his head, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.

"I'm sorry for everything," Chris murmurs against my skin. "I don't want us to keep fighting like this."

Now I run my fingers through his hair, feeling a sense of peace settle over us. "I'm sorry too.." My voice sounding like a whisper. "Let's try to work through this together, okay?" He nods softly.

I kiss his head “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He answers quietly.

୨୧

hey, this is the end! i hope you have enjoyed it, if u saw any miss spelling or anything tell me in the comments, please.

also, i think it got kinda confusing cause i was using words on the past and in the present, but idk 😭😭

[moonstruckme]

hi! could i get james potter fluff where they’re both just taking a stroll or they’re ice skating and reader suddenly slips and lands on their knee and gets a huge scab on their knee. reader plays it off saying she’s fine but she doesn’t notice that her knee is slowly bleeding and james freaks out? 😭

aka me, I SLIPPED ON ICE AND MY KNEE STARTED BLEEDING TODAY

Ahh sorry babe! Here's some Jamie to heal you <3 (I have no idea how this got so long sorry)

cw: mentions of blood

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

“Whoa, you okay?” James skids to a stop beside you, ice shavings flying. 

You grin at him, embarrassed. “Yeah, I’m good.” You ignore the burning in your knee, wobbling back to your feet. James sets a tentative hand under your forearm to steady you. “Sorry.” 

He makes a face. You know him well enough by now to know it means he doesn’t want you to apologize, but he knows you well enough to know that saying it is pointless. The two of you set off again. You’ve got one arm in James’ hold and the other extended cautiously to the side for balance, but James Good-At-Everything Potter doesn’t even need to look in front of him as he skates. He glides along smoothly, maneuvering you both around kids with little plastic helpers and other inexperienced skaters like yourself with little effort. If he weren’t so himself, it’d be pretty irksome. 

“What were we talking about?” you ask, laughing awkwardly. 

“You were telling me about the cat outside your work,” James reminds you. 

“Oh, yeah.” You shake your head at yourself a little, looking down at your skates just like James had warned you not to. They start to slip out from under you, but he holds you up until your right yourself. “Sorry, I’ve been going on about that forever.” 

“No, it’s cute,” he says. “Don’t hold out on me, what happened to her? Did she get a name?” 

“She did.” You glance at him, and he’s smiling encouragingly. James is always smiling at you. It’s incentive to keep talking. 

You tell him more about the cat, and then he tells you about the puppy his parents adopted when he moved out, which he felt rather cheated about because he’d always wanted one when he lived at home. You tell him about the slew of fish you’d had as a child, which sparks a conversation about odd pets, which is how you learn about his friend’s pet toad. James seems to have a lot of friends. You’re starting to keep track of a few names, but sometimes they swirl together and you can’t remember who’s who. He doesn’t hold it against you. 

You’ve only been on a few dates with James, but this is typically how they go. You show up all self-conscious and tense, and then he gives you one of his easy smiles and suddenly it’s like you’ve no reason to be nervous at all. James loves to talk, and you, oddly, seem to love talking with him as well. You enjoy the talking a lot more than the skating, and when your time slot on the rink is up you have to feign a bit more disappointment than you feel. As far as you’re concerned, the main event is going to be the hot chocolate you plan to have after this. 

“Let me get that,” James says when he’s undone the laces to both his skates and you’re still struggling with your first one. He kneels in front of you, deft fingers easing apart the knot and then whipping the laces skillfully out of each of their little hooks. He starts to pull the skate off your foot, but pauses when his eyes flit up, catching on your knee. 

He hisses through his teeth. “Sweetheart, what happened here?” 

“Hm?” You bend over so your head is closer to his, trying to see what he’s talking about. Your leggings are wet through with blood, a giant ugly splotch around your knee. “Oh,” you say quietly. 

“Oh,” James agrees, teasing tone at odds with the uncharacteristic frown pinching his features. “That looks rough. Do you think it happened when you fell?” 

“Which time?” you joke.

His laugh is half-hearted. A diligent effort. He starts pulling up the one side of your leggings, working them up your calf. He hisses again, sympathy mingled with concern, when the bloody mess of your knee is unveiled. It’s almost impossible to tell where the cut is with the skin around it stained so thoroughly. You bite your lip to keep from making a sound as James peels the fabric of your legging away carefully, but when his thumb presses on the skin next to the wound you wince. 

He inhales softly, seemingly as startled as you are, and gives you an remorseful look. “Sorry, lovely. How badly does it hurt?” 

“Not bad,” you fib, though exposed to the cold air, the burning is starting to get to you. 

James looks like he knows, mouth pulling to the side compassionately. His eyebrows come down behind his glasses as he tries to get a look at the wound. You try to ignore the tingling that results from him gripping the back of your knee the way he is. Tenderly, with more care than you’re used to. 

“Alright.” He gives the side of your calf a little pat, rising to his feet. “I’m going to go find someone who works here.” 

“Oh, James,” you protest as he walks away, “it’s really not that bad. I’ll take care of it at home!” 

“Stay put!” he calls over his shoulder. 

As if you’d ever leave without him. 

You try not to fidget while he’s gone, feeling awkward and pathetic sitting all bloody and alone while other groups taking off their skates chat around you. James returns a short time later with a sullen-looking employee in tow. You give them a tight smile, and James returns it with twice the gusto, talking up the teen worker who looks like they’d rather be anywhere else. He’ll come around. You doubt anyone can resist the James Potter charm. 

“Such excellent service they have here,” James says lightly, sitting beside you on the metal bench. He sets a casual hand on your knee, putting a stop to the bouncing you didn’t realize you’d started. “I asked for a first aid kit and they gave me a whole Martin.” 

Martin declines to comment. He unpackages a tiny antiseptic wipe, going after your bloody knee with unfeeling determination. 

You bite down on your lip, and James’ dark brows lower, his eyes flickering between you and Martin indecisively. You give him a small smile that you hope says Please don’t say anything to this poor kid on my behalf, even if I potentially start crying. James seems to get the general idea, returning your smile and intertwining his fingers with yours consolingly. 

One benefit of Martin’s vicious treatment is that it’s over quickly. Before long, he’s slapping a plaster on your cut and telling you both to let someone (not him, presumably) know if you need anything else. A man of few words to the last. 

James takes his place before you can move, kneeling in front of you again. 

“Is that really it?” he asks disbelievingly, delicately stroking the edge of the small plaster with his thumb. 

“I told you it wasn’t bad,” you tease softly. 

He blows out a big breath, blinking up at you. “I thought for sure it was going to need stitches. How do you bleed so much? You scared the shit out of me, sweetheart.” 

“Sorry.” 

The look he shoots you is about as stern as he ever gets, disapproval buried beneath a heap of fondness. “Don’t,” he says. 

You fail to hide a smile, and he fails to hide his reciprocation, dropping his chin back towards your knee. It really looks now like you’ve both been quite dramatic, the blood all cleaned up and a tiny plaster covering what turned out to be only a small scrape. From the feel of it you know it’ll be horribly bruised in the morning, but it really was never anything too dire.

“Do you think you can straighten it?” 

“No,” you deadpan. “I think I’ll probably need crutches, actually.” 

James looks up, startled and delighted by your joking. “Yeah?” There’s a breathless sort of laughter in his tone. “What do you think, ten days’ bed rest?” 

“Oh, at least.” 

“Mm, and I suppose someone will have to bring you all your meals as well. Feed you chocolates and pastries and all that, keep you company, serenade you from time to time.” 

Your lips twitch. You can feel your face warming faintly. “Seems best.” 

James nods, aiming for serious but missing by a mile with that ever-present curve in his lips. “Well, I guess we’d better get you home, then,” he says, worming his arm under your knees. 

You don’t realize what he’s up to until the other one wraps securely around your back, and by then it’s too late. 

“James!” you gasp as he hoists you up, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Put me down.” 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’ll still stop for hot chocolate. I’d never deprive you of that.”

[apomaro-mellow]

I finally wrote about stobin carhops

“I can’t believe we got another job using one resume”, Steve said.

“I can’t believe you said we were managers at Scoops”, Robin said.

“How are they gonna check, Robs?”

“Good point. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

The new job at a local burger joint was decidedly in the ballpark of both of their abilities. The only drawback for Robin was....the skates.

“So these are a requirement? Not like, a suggestion?”, she asked, looking at the roller skates warily. Steve was already lacing up.

“They are in fact a requirement”, Cheryl, their current manager said.

Robin slipped and slid while on wheels. Which was why for about 90% of their first shift, she rolled along arm in arm with Steve.

“What’s even the point of having someone skate your food to you? I mean it seems like a total novelty. Purely for shits and giggles for customers.”

“You nailed it. It’s novelty.” As they rolled around the lot, Steve used the hand that was free to deliver food to the different cars. Robin used her free hand to write down the orders.

This system worked for about a week before Cheryl told them they couldn’t do that anymore. The very next day, Robin dropped five orders (two of which were on purpose) and was removed from her carhop responsibilities.

She kept her post at the register and the pick up window.

The uniform consisted of a white polo-style shirt with red accents. Most of the staff wore red pants to match. Some of the girls beat the heat with red shorts though.

“What are you wearing?”, Robin asked when Steve clocked in one day in those very same shorts.

“Uh, the uniform?”

“Uh-huh. Feelin’ the heat lately?”

“It’s been pretty warm the past few days”, Steve said.

“And I best the change has nothing to do with the fact Eddie said he’d be by on your lunch break today.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Steve tried to look neutral but his voice was way too chipper for someone who had to smell grease this early in the morning.

Robin knew for sure Eddie had arrived. She didn’t have a full view of the lot when she was at the register but she did see Steve lose control and skate right into a light pole. That could only mean Eddie was nearby. She let them have their lunch alone, knowing they would be sickeningly lovey-dovey the whole time.

-------------------------------------------

“You know....”, Steve started. “I bet Vickie would lose it if you were in shorts.”

“Actually, she said my teeth are my best feature”, Robin smiled wide.

“You two are so weird”, Steve laughed through it while mopping the floor.

“This from the guy who spent two whole hours staring at his boyfriend’s hands.”

“I didn’t-”

“TWO HOURS!”

------------------------------------

Steve let out a sigh when he saw that Eddie had driven Erica along as well.

“You already know”, Erica said. “Chocolate vanilla swirl.”

“Erica, I know I said free ice cream for life but-”

“But nothing. You thought you could get out of it by switching jobs. But karma always finds its way back.”

“I don’t think me working at a fast food place is karma. Right?”, Steve looked to Eddie, like he was worried this really was the work of cosmic forces.

“I don’t know...” Eddie leaned out of his open window to get a better look at Steve’s legs. “Feels like karma to me.”

Steve grinned when he noticed being checked out and leaned in towards the window. He opened his mouth but Erica beat him to it.

“You can flirt when you’re not on the clock. Ice cream. Chop chop!”

-------------------------------

It was a slow day for once, so Robin and Steve were sitting on the hood of his car, sharing some fries between them.

“What do you think our next job is gonna be?”, Steve asked.

“I think after this we should branch out. Maybe go for the federal government? Or at least look for managerial positions.”

“Would a place hire two managers at once?”

“One for the day shift and one for the night?”, Robin said, pointing at herself for day and Steve for night.

“But then we’re not gonna see each other.”

“Shoot, you’re right. What about working as mail carriers? You drive, I’ll put them in the box.”

“That’s actually perfect.”

“Great!”, Robin exclaimed. “So when this place burns down or gets destroyed by a quake-”

“Or a flood, or a tornado, or another fire-”

“Point is, we already know what our fallback is. And it’s perfect because everybody always needs mail.”

“It’s kind of crazy how we’ve never been fired. And that our past work places have been leveled”, Steve said. “I really think we could put anything on our resumes at this point.”

“Lemme get a couple of college credits before we start lying to get better jobs.”

“So another couple of months?”

“And you’ll be talking to the new CEO of something or other.”

“Co-CEO”, Steve reminded her, holding up a medium soda.

“Co-CEOs”, Robin tapped hers to his in a toast.

@little-gae-shit

[xo-cori]

it’s all a game to me anyway (II)

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

summary: pining after athletes is never a good idea. that is, unless you’re good at getting what you want.

warnings: smut (MDNI), choking if you squint, praise kink, jesse being an ally

a/n: y’alllll this is ass but i got sm requests for a part 2. also @feelsoseencantdream wanted me to tag them so i’m thinking of making a taglist??? lmk if you wanna be added 😈 ALSO PSA!!! don’t sleep w anybody if you aren’t 100% sure that they’re CLEAN ok thx

The very next day, you follow your usual routine. Daydream through all of your classes until you can finally start your venture towards the sports building, phone on silent with one headphone in your ear. However, the thrumming of your heart only drowns out the music, and it’s an unfamiliar feeling; the way your nerves are getting the best of you, the way you can only hope to be the one in charge here.

But, your nerves turn out to be right.

When you open the door to the rink that is usually filled with people at this time of day, you’re surprised to see that Abby is sitting there alone on the first bleacher. She doesn’t have on her usual hockey get-up; rather, she wears a grey hoodie and sweatpants, which tells you that she isn’t here to practice. Instead, she repeatedly runs a sharpener over the blade of one of her skates.

“Looking for someone?” She wonders, not even sparing a glance in your direction.

You cross your arms, opting to ignore her question and spare yourself the embarrassment. “No practice today?”

“Got cancelled. Coach’s daughter has a stomach bug,” she huffs, “besides, I think we all could use a day off.”

“Oh.” You reply, a small amount of anxiety creeping its way into your body. You step forward to take a seat a few inches away from her. “But you came here anyways? Why?”

Abby finally looks up from her skate and raises an eyebrow at you. “Why did you?”

This is a dynamic you aren’t used to. Being questioned like this without having anything snarky to say in response; it’s almost like Abby has the ability to steal the words from your mouth before you can even come up with them. “You know why.” You say.

She gestures to the empty rink. “No, not really. I figured you’d leave once you realized that there’s no one here to watch.”

“I’m here because you started something without finishing it.” You tell her, sternly, but it only makes her smile in amusement.

“Without finishing you, you mean.” She points out. “There’s cameras here. You, of all people, should know that.”

“We’ll go to the locker room again,” you reach out to grab her hand. “We can–”

“No.” Abby shuts you down immediately, though she doesn’t retract her hand from your grip. She lets you run your thumbs over her calloused palm and pretends not to notice the way it makes goosebumps rise across her arms; chalks it up to how damn cold it is in there. “Give me your phone.”

You tilt your head, confused, but you do what she says with a bit of hesitance. She takes your phone and goes to your contacts, adding her own number and name before giving it back to you. “I have to go. Text me your dorm number.”

Then, she stands up without another word and heads toward the door, leaving you in the same position you’d found yourself in the night before; this time, though, there’s hope. There’s an implication that she’ll finish what she started after all. You make sure to leave out the back door.

“Dina!” You call as you unlock the door to your room, seeing your roommate perk up from the couch. As per usual, her boyfriend, Jesse is laying with his feet kicked up on the armrest and his head in her lap.

She smiles when she sees you, quickly grabbing the remote to pause their movie. “What’s up, babe? You look like you just ran a marathon.”

A cheesy smile makes its way onto your face. “Literally nothing is wrong right now, because guess who’s coming over.”

Dina thinks for a moment, nose scrunched in concentration seeing as there’s lots of possibilities. But, the fact that she’s never seen you this excited about a girl before is enough of a hint as to who the lucky lady is. She pushes Jesse off of her and shoots up from her seat. “Abby?! No fucking way!”

You nod excitedly. “Yes fucking way! I don’t know when, or why, but–”

“Wait, since when is she into girls? Wasn’t she just with Owen?” Dina puts a hand on her hip, obviously just as confused as you.

“They broke up, but… if I was with Owen, I’d probably switch sides, too.” You shrug. “Either way, she’s coming tonight.”

“Which Abby?” Jesse asks, sitting up on the couch to look at you. “You’re acting all lovey-dovey, so I’m gonna assume she’s a good catch.”

You roll your eyes. “Come on, you know which Abby. Abby Anderson, captain of the hockey team? Six feet of pure muscle?”

Suddenly, Jesse seems just as invested in this conversation as you and Dina. “Jesus Christ, how’d you pull her?” He jokes, though you know it’s a genuine question– anybody involved in your university’s gossip knows that Abby hates hook-ups, and anyone who shoots their shot with her usually just makes a fool of themselves. Not you, though. You aren’t sure why but you’re hoping to find out.

“I don’t know! I’m so nervous. Why am I so nervous?” You place a hand over your rapidly beating heart.

Dina strolls over to you and grabs your shoulder. “Because you’ve been trying to scoop her up for, like, three months now. It’s weird to see you all amped up, but I don’t blame you, honestly. She’s intimidating and hot.”

“I’m literally sitting right here,” Jesse reminds her.

“Not for long, hopefully.” You look up at Dina. “You guys can do me a solid and finish your movie at Jesse’s place, right? Please?”

“Two steps ahead of you, sugar. I’m not waiting around for Anderson to show up. She’s… well, like I said, she’s intimidating.” Dina grabs Jesse’s car keys from the kitchen counter, which is Jesse’s cue to finally get off of the couch.

“Agreed,” he shakes his head, “I’ve seen her on that rink once and I can tell she’s not to be fucked with.”

You let out a sigh, relieved that this last-minute arrangement is already going smoothly. “Oh my god, thank you,” you say as Dina places her hands on your shoulders so that she can look into your eyes.

“Don’t have too much fun, you hear me? The last thing we need is a noise complaint.” She instructs you, then leans in to give you a peck on the forehead. “See you tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.” You grumble under your breath. Jesse waves a goodbye before they both head to the door, opening it and promptly freezing.

You lean forward to see that Abby is already standing right there.

“Oh. Hey,” Dina says, “uh, we were just leaving.”

Jesse smiles awkwardly while Dina grabs his wrist and ushers him out the door. Abby steps inside, head tilted over her shoulder to watch the couple speed-walk down the hallway before she shuts the door. “You seriously shoo’d your roommate away?”

“No,” you lie, “they… she was already going to his place tonight.”

She just stares at you, obviously not buying it. “Something tells me that isn’t true.”

You cross your arms. “Whatever. Why did you come here, anyways?”

Abby sighs as she walks forward and glances around, not yet directly toward you, almost like she’s surveying the area. As she gets closer, you catch a whiff of the familiar scent of her shampoo; pine and vanilla, already clouding your senses with desire. Your need for her has become primal. It’s something deep inside of you that has no beginning or end, no rhyme and no reason. “You don’t really need me to answer that question, do you?” She scoffs. “I thought I made it pretty clear.”

You look down at your feet. “Still would be nice to hear you say it.”

With the distance between you down to only a couple of inches, Abby’s standing in front of you in no time, her undivided attention now completely on you. You feel so small, and you kind of like it.

“What do you want me to say?” She shrugs. This time, though, there’s no underlying mockery in her voice. It’s a genuine question that gives you a sense of security. You gaze into her ocean blue eyes, cursing yourself for the way it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Maybe that I didn’t make myself look dumb yesterday when I told you how much I wanted you,” you answer, “and that you feel the same way.”

Abby tilts her head. “So, you expect me to say that I want you?”

“Kind of.” You mumble.

“Hm,” she leans back a bit, seemingly deep in thought for a moment (though her eyes don’t leave yours once). “My ego’s a little too big for that, but I’d rather just show you.”

You’re given no time to reply before you find yourself in the same position as the night before, with Abby grabbing hold of your waist and lifting you up to sit you down on the kitchen table. You spread your legs so she can stand between them as her lips finally meet yours, the show of strength making you melt beneath her.

This kiss is nothing like the last; carnal, sure, but there’s a hunger inside it and a strange sense of urgency, as if the world is ending and she needs to have you now. Her tongue effortlessly slides against yours and, unlike last time, there’s no battle for dominance. You submit to her without hesitation.

Abby, on the other hand– you’d have no idea how hard she’s trying to keep it together. You’re not exactly the type of person she could see herself falling for. She has a reputation to upkeep, which just so happens to be the complete opposite of yours. If anybody were to even speak both of your names in the same sentence, it could ruin her, leave her image tarnished while you move onto the next girl.

That doesn’t stop her, though. Now that she knows how it feels to kiss you, to touch you, to hear you beg for more, she doesn’t think anything could stop her.

You reach down to grab hold of her wrist, guiding her hand up to its rightful spot on your throat, and she wastes no time pressing her fingers down on the sides of your neck. Your mouth falls open with a gasp, thighs tightening around her waist. She rears back to look at you. “So fucking demanding.” She laughs.

“Just want you to touch me,” you huff out, voice low and shaky. “You left me hanging, Abby.”

“Because I wasn’t gonna fuck you in a locker room.” She says.

You smile, a mischievous glimmer in your half-lidded eyes. “But you’ll fuck me here?”

Abby smiles, too. “That’s the plan.”

She reaches down to the bottom of your sweater to pull it up over your head, throwing it behind her on the floor somewhere. It suddenly becomes very obvious that you’d been counting on getting lucky– you didn’t even bother putting on a bra.

Her eyes fall onto your chest and she stares shamelessly. “Really?”

Instead of responding, this time, you grab her wrists again and use the leverage to place her hands over both of your breasts. Even in the dim light of the kitchen, you can still see the way her pupils dilate once her palms meet your soft skin. She gently squeezes down, just once to test the waters, but you can tell from that action alone just how inexperienced she is with other women.

You place your hands over hers, making her squeeze again. Her breathing becomes heavy and her eyes become curious. She watches the way your skin moves between her fingers, beckoning her to explore.

Abby moves down to your neck, pressing hot kisses all over the marks she’d made the night before, licking over each bite mark that had already began to fade. You hadn’t even tried to cover them up. This only means something to her because she’d seen you walking around campus in those low-cut tank tops, a concoction of makeup smothered over your neck to cover just a few hickies, though they’d remain visible to a trained eye.

She bends down to slip one of your nipples into her mouth, suckling and drooling as you let out soft whimpers of approval. You bring a hand to grip the edge of the table whilst the other snakes up to the back of her head, beneath her long braid so you can tug at the roots of her hair. Each time your fingernails scratch at her scalp, she lets out a quiet moan, sending the most intoxicating vibrations right between your legs. From this new position, Abby can feel the growing warmth pressed against her abdomen, even more so when you subconsciously roll your hips into her. You’d do anything for some friction, and you already know that she’d let you.

After a few moments, you use the leverage you have on her head to pull her off of your chest, making her look up at you with those wanting eyes of hers. “Get down,” you hum, pulling her down by the hair so that her cheek is pressed into your thigh. “It’s like I told you yesterday– you know what I want.”

Now it’s Abby’s turn to find herself lost for words. Maybe it’s the way you’re looking down at her, or maybe the fact that she can already smell you and it’s making her mouth water.

Her hands drag down your waist until they find the waistband of your shorts, hooking her fingers into it so she can pull them down. Too slowly for your taste, but you’d never blame somebody for wanting to take their time with you. Your raise your hips from the table so that she can finally pull the last piece of clothing from your body, letting it fall past your ankles as she gets down onto her knees. “Oh, fuck me,” she mumbles mostly to herself.

She’d never need another confidence boost after this. Abby’s been in your apartment for maybe ten minutes, and you’re already soaked down to your thighs.

As a cue for her to get a move on, you lay your right leg onto her shoulder and tighten your grip in her hair. It’s a wordless gesture that tells her everything she needs to know.

The moan that leaves your mouth when she finally dives in is nothing less than pathetic.

What she lacks in experience, she makes up for in enthusiasm. She tries to recall what makes her feel good; tracing certain shapes with her tongue, licking you up and down until you’re practically gushing into her mouth. She swallows every last drop as she eats you like a woman starved.

Her hands grab onto your thighs, keeping them closed around her head. She’d never admit it, of course, but the way you tremble beneath her hands only riles her up more. Her lips wrap around your clit and she whimpers when she feels all ten of your fingers grab onto her hair, keeping her trapped right there despite the fact that she could easily break free if she wanted to. You revel in that power– knowing just how strong she is, knowing that she chooses to let you be stronger.

The heels of your feet dig into her shoulder blades as her strong hands do their best to hold you in place. Sparks of pleasure catch fire in your belly, the first tell that you aren’t going to last long. “Slow down,” you cry, but the sound of your voice all needy and soft just sends Abby into overdrive.

Her tongue attacks your clit, overwhelming you with the focused stimulation, causing your back to arch closer to her. Your head falls back as your eyes shut tightly, mindlessly whimpering and whining. She can feel your muscles tensing, trembling, like you don’t quite know what to do with yourself, and finds herself wondering how many other girls have had you in this same position. How many other girls have thought they’re the only one to make you feel this good, to make you bend to their every whim like this.

In your mind, though, you can only think of one thing; this odd feeling that Abby has awakened inside of you. A desire to be savored rather than devoured. She licks you up like you’re the last drop of water on Earth and you can’t even find it in yourself to mock her for it. There’s another feeling, a more physical one, quickly approaching. Embarrassingly quick, might you add.

Your hips jerk when you feel one of Abby’s fingers gently slip into you, exploring your warm, soft walls that clench around her so graciously. The arch in your back makes it easier to find that gummy spot which she wastes no time stroking with the rough pad of her finger. “How– f-fuck, how do you know all this?” You whine.

“Read some articles,” she mumbles right into you, sending waves of pleasure up your spine.

You let out a short-lived laugh at the thought of Abby fucking Anderson doing research on how to pleasure you properly. You can’t imagine any of her boyfriends had shown her how to take care of a woman, though, so it was only a matter of time– if it wasn’t for you, it would most likely be for herself. “Good girl,” you sigh, “I’m so close… oh, shit.”

The praise makes Abby moan into you as her dark blue eyes look up from between your legs to appreciate the sight. Your thighs are pressing against her rosy cheeks no matter how hard she tries to keep them open, your eyes struggling to stay open, your chest heaving up and down as you try (and fail) to preserve some stability in your breath.

Finally, that feeling in your belly reaches its peak when a second finger joins the first. Your head falls back and you put a hand over your mouth to muffle a quiet scream.

You make a point of not telling her, or even asking for permission, seeing as your trust had already been destroyed by her in this department the night before.

She seems to be in a very different mood tonight, though, because she doesn’t let up even after the tremors had stopped and the pleasure turns to pain; the good kind, where it’s all too much and there’s nothing you can do about it. You press your heel into her shoulder, pushing against the muscle there so she’d finally detach from you. A small gasp leaves your lips when she slowly pulls out her pruned fingers and looks up at you. The lower half of her face is completely covered in your cum, a sight you’re sure will be forever etched into your mind. How could you go back to normal after this? How could you pretend that anyone else compares?

You grab her jaw and bring her back up to your level, messily smashing your lips to hers as you hold onto her shoulder with your other hand. Much to her dismay, though, you’re quick to pull back.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’ve done that before, Anderson.” You say, albeit breathless.

“If you knew any better, you wouldn’t have let me do that.” She replies. You laugh, but you know she’s right, and you know she’s serious.

“But you liked it,” you implore, clearly searching for some sort of validation, which she quickly grants you in the form of a toothy smile; a genuine one that she just can’t wipe away.

“Maybe. How long do we have until your roommate gets back?” Her clammy hands come down to your waist, kneading the fat of your hips.

You raise an eyebrow. “Long enough. Why? You want a taste of your own medicine?”

The question is enough to visibly light up her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I do,” she confirms with a shy voice like she didn’t just give you the best orgasm of your life in under fifteen minutes. She’s sure her boxers are soaked right through the fabric, and honestly, she’s starting to think only you could bring the release she craves.

“Say no less. You gotta carry me, though,” you huff as you wrap your trembling thighs around her waist. “I can’t feel my legs.”

[penelopepine]

Little Purple Stars

Part 1 Part 2

Ghost x FemReader x Soap

Content: Soulmate AU, fluff, no angst

Everyone had a soulmate; whether that connection was platonic or romantic was entirely up to those involved. Some people even had multiple soulmates, like you did, which wasn’t that uncommon. It happens whenever a person turns 20 yrs old. They are suddenly able to draw on themselves, and have the picture appear on the skin of your soulmate.

You had two soulmates; one of them rarely ever drew on themselves, and if they did it was only with a black pen. Usually said drawing would also be a little black heart next to something that you or your other soulmate drew. You’ve always called this soulmate, Moon.

On the other hand soulmate number two, or Sun as you called them, was much more open and was constantly drawing little doodles all over themselves.

Sun and Moon; basic maybe, but you’ve always felt that it fits them perfectly. 

-

It was your third time entering the Olympics and you couldn’t be more excited. You’re first year you unfortunately didn’t place, second year you won the bronze, and this year you were aiming for the gold. Most of all though, win or lose you hoped that by the end of today you will have made contact with your soulmates.

While getting ready for today you had drawn little stars in various shades of purple around your eyes, making them resemble freckles. Drawing on your face was generally frowned upon, but when events that are going to be televised all around the world exceptions are made.

You tried to give them a hint to watch the Olympics today by drawing the Olympics rings and a TV, but realistically you knew there was no way they could watch the entirety of the broadcast. Even if they did turn it on they could very easily miss your appearance. The only thing you could do now was hope that the two individuals with matching purple stars were watching.

-

Ghost watched as every little star slowly appeared on Soap's face knowing that his face looked the same only that the stars on his face were covered by the mask. It wasn’t until Gaz walked in the office as well and asked about them did Soap even know they were there.

“What do you mean I have stars?” 

“Yeah on your face,” Gaz pulls out his phone and quickly takes a photo before showing it to the Scot. 

“You knew they were there and you weren’t going to say anything?” Soap turns to face Ghost with a playful grin, “Well now you gotta take off the mask; I can’t be the only one walking around here with star freckles.” 

“In your dreams MacTavish.”

Gaz chuckles at the two of them before he sits down in an empty seat, “So I know you didn’t do this,” pointing to Soap, “and you definitely didn’t do this. Can I ask why lucky number three decided to do this?” Directing his question towards the lieutenant. 

“I assume it has something to do with the Olympics.”  

“Aye, they drew that symbol yesterday didn’t they. I guess that was their way of giving us a warning for this; must be for some kind of watch party,” Soap guessed.

“Sounds like my kind of party, the ice skaters are performing in just a bit and I don’t plan to miss it.” Gaz holds his phone showing them the Olympic broadcast already up on his phone before popping in one of his earbuds. 

“I didn’t take you for someone who would enjoy watching figure skating; all it is is watching people move on the ice innit?” Ghost questions, he’s never had any interest in the Olympics before. It was never something he had time to sit down and watch. 

“We can go to an ice skating rink ourselves, and watch Soap try to skate if you want to watch more chaotic skating.” 

“Oi, I didn’t even say anything, don’t go dragging me into this!” 

“You were gonna say something and that’s enough for me!” 

“Yeah yeah whatever,” Soap turns back to the paperwork he had been working on, “I’d like to see you try and skate. Let’s see who’s laughing then.” 

The men chuckle to themselves and all of them focus on items in their hands. It wouldn’t be until an hour had passed that the silence amongst them was broken. 

Gaz’s sudden gasp drew both Ghost and Soap’s attention to him. 

“What happened mate; a skater fell down?” Ghost asks with slight amusement in his voice. He couldn’t imagine himself getting this worked up over anything as simple as ice skating. Continuing to watch as Gaz doesn’t say anything; simply sitting in his seat with his mouth slightly hung open. 

“Gaz?” Soap questions as he steps towards him. 

Very suddenly Gaz shoots up and steps towards him as well, grabbing Soap’s face once he is close enough. Holding up his phone and looking frantically between the two. 

“Aye, wha’ the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Soap swats Gaz’s hand away from his face, “Didn’t your mum ever teach you about personal space.”

“Look!” 

Soap focusing on Gaz’s phone to see what had the man so worked up. On the screen was a woman dressed in purple elegantly dancing on the ice, but what really caught his attention was the fact that she too had purple star freckles on her face; ones that matched his perfectly. “Oh fuck; Ghost!” 

Ghost couldn’t believe what he was seeing for a moment. They had finally found their missing piece. Watching her dance and spin on ice he suddenly understood why people would enjoy watching this. She looks ethereal. 

Looking at Soap he sees an awestruck look in his eyes. He won’t admit but the stars are quite cute on him; on both of them. How on earth did he end up with these two incredibly beautiful and talented people as his soulmates? 

Later all three men are huddled together over the phone watching the award ceremony. The room had gotten embarrassingly loud when it became clear that you had won; Price had charged into the room asking them what had them all yelling for. He had luckily understood when the situation was explained by a sheepish soap, who was definitely making the most noise out of everyone. He was quick to get his energy back though once Price had left the room.

“We have to let the lass know we know we saw her!” Soap rushes to the desk pulling out multi colored pens; waving them towards Ghost. 

-

You had done it! You had really done it; the gold was yours! Standing on the first place podium next to the other medalist you couldn’t help but wonder if your soulmates are watching you. You hope they were proud of you if they had seen your performance.

Trying to subtly check any exposed skin for any kind of sign or acknowledgement that you had been seen, and to your great delight you had been. The sun and moon had found their star. 

There on your wrist was a drawing of a gold medal and right next to it was a little black heart. 

They had seen you, they knew who you were. That thought both excited and terrified you. The only thing to do now was wait for them to show themselves; to find you. 

Stepping down from the podium, and making your way off the ice you give your wrist a kiss and wave towards the cameras.

[turrondeluxe]

I've always been a true believer of medic mikey and I've been thinking a lot of 2012 medic mikey today

so here's a bunch of thoughts about it from my twt if it feels weirdly paced and chopped it's because i just copy and pasted from different posts

Mikey probably started with the want of learning more about medicine after leo ends up in a coma.

Kind of like a brutal awakening that his older brothers are not invincible

until that point he probably helped both donnie and leo with basic first aid, since in 2012, the brothers all seem to know some sort of basic medical knowledge to a certain point (raph carries a first aid with him in half shell heroes meaning they all probably have their own).

Mikey probably sees leo burdened with his father's shadow and the weight of being the leader and letting everyone down, raph so worried about them at all times and so angry at himself for not being able to protect his family better, donnie mostly always stressed out. with no sleep. always having to FIX something and all this probably make mikey realize that putting being a medic on top of any of his brothers would just be for the worst so he decides to take it into himself to specialize in that part.

Mikey would ask help for getting more information to study about medicine and turtle health veterinary from both donnie and april (april would love to help +she can get more physical aid like books from libraries and such while donnie is the one brother who doesn't actually mind what mikey asks him and also actually answers his questions with facts). While studying he most probably would forget a lot about the scientific or actual names for different things so he would just make up his own designations because that way it makes sense to him (his brothers would all learn later on about mikey's own system perhaps because it's just them and it's not like mikey is going to go work at a hospital so it doesn't really affect them much).

Being the group medic just would fit him so well because hes very smart and not squeamish about A LOT of things in comparison to his brothers (throwback to when donnie did said he was actually squeamish in the show) so donnie probably would also encourage him in his studies and even try to help him to retain info with different methods that actually work with Mikey (because of adhd brain) like making references to his favorite show or comics while learning medical info to make it easier for him to focus.

The fact that mikey is the most perceptive of his brothers and also the one to keep a cool head when all of the other ones are losing it, would be factors that help him while being the medic as well.

Mikey being the smallest one and fastest of his brothers so hes probably the only one who could make it to any of them in record time if needed be.

I feel like, since 2012 mikey is the one brother who uses his skateboard the most, he probably would start bringing his skate strapped to his shell everywhere because he can use it as an emergency medical stretcher to move his brothers around in the case he was not able to carry them around physically

maybe even begging leo for a longboard later on because they are bigger which, again, could help him in emergency situations.

Thinking also on how leo probably didn't really talk much about the healing hands technique with his brothers so mikey probably unlocked the healing hands in his own way and in a really high stress situation where the sheer willing force was just wanting to help his family.

Mikey would definitely sing staying alive while giving cpr: muttering the lyrics along in a frenetic way while punching his brother's chest, because of their plastrons, and trying to get him to breath again all while listening his other brothers yells be deafened by the sound of lasers pass by over their heads.

And after being home and safe, he'd give everyone those lollipops right after quickly making sure none of them are dealing with a concussion (he is but hes fine, he promises).

Extra: some replies in twt that i also wanted to share here

[snowsonlylove]

Dangerous Woman

a/n note: inspo is also from this delicious edit from topxzae on tiktok and this performance by ashley wagner. btw, i've switched my style of writing a bit and i've made it a bit more direct for i hope you don't mind + i was feeling a lil lazy so i did the sex scene in a third person pov.

Pairing: Captain!Hockey Player!Coriolanus Snow x Figure Skater!Reader

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N and Coriolanus Snow have been in an established relationship for about 5 months. Lately, things have been very stressful for Coriolanus in his job as a captain of keeping everyone in line. Today is his day off and all he wants is to spend time with his girlfriend. What started out as a sweet catch up turned a lot spicier after Y/N noticed how her boyfriend looks at her. 

Fic Type: Smut (NSFW) 18+, Established relationship, Love struck Coryo, Reader slaying it on the ice (i’m kinda imagining her as an Alexandra Trusova kinda gal so do what you want with that info)

Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do this guys, use a condom. reader is on birth control), rough pushing, harsh, cunnilingus (female and male receiving), lmk if i missed anything else

Word Count: 1.9k

Inspo: Heavily inspired by Icebreaker (my newest obsession) and the stereotype in the skating world with hockey players looking at figure skaters when they practise (horny bf and gf edition). 

Disclaimer: Credits and the idea of this are based off Icebreaker so all credits go to Hannah Grace and her team. This is a spinoff of her idea turned into an established relationship version for Coriolanus Snow and Y/N Y/L/N.

Additional Info (ONLY FOR THOSE WHO HAVE READ ICEBREAKER): In this universe, there is no rivalry. All collegiate teams share the same rink and there is a bond with the hockey and the skating team prior to this occurrence.

I do not own Coriolanus Snow or Y/N Y/L/N (cuz it’s you, boo). All credits go to Suzanne Collins and her team. Song credits also go to Ariana Grande and her team. 

I do not allow my works to be republished or translated under any circumstances. Any instances of this happening and YOU WILL BE BLOCKEDDD. 

Also, ageless and empty blogs will be BLOCKED as this is a 18+ fic. Report my fics for no good reason and you’re blocked cuz if u don’t like it, LEAVEEEE.

Y/N and Coriolanus have been a strong couple for about 5 months now. With all that time passing, there must be some things they have learned about each other, as well as things they have not learned about each other. Weirdly enough, Coriolanus has never seen Y/N skate because of the divide in their schedule between the hockey team and figure skating team. 

Coriolanus is the captain of the collegiate Academy hockey team, which makes the job more difficult for him because of how hard he has to strangle and wrangle a bunch of frat guys to go on the ice and play. This leads to him trying to find his teammates a lot, which means that he doesn’t have time to see his girlfriend skate because by the time he gets there, Y/N’s already packing up her stuff and giving him a kiss goodbye before leaving. This frustrates him. However, it doesn’t look like it would be much of an issue going forward.

Lately, the team has been going on a losing streak. About 3/4 of the team are either high or drunk off their ass in college parties and it’s driving Coriolanus crazy as it’s making them lose. Their coach has demanded that they stop it, Coriolanus even putting it as a ban but it’s still not making the younger hockey members realise that. As a result, Coach Highbottom and Coriolanus have made a decision to make them sit on the bench and think about their actions, which works great for Coriolanus since it creates a window of space in which he can get more alone time and even show up earlier to watch his girlfriend practice.

Today was the day in which Coriolanus got his free time, so he chose to watch his girlfriend train for her test skates after getting them a small box of cronuts and a coffee for both him and girlfriend as a little date after her practice before she has to go back to her dorm to study.

Coriolanus strolled into the ice rink as if he owned it that day, confident in his strides as he didn’t show his excitement in seeing his girlfriend practice in fear of people seeing how weak he was for his girlfriend. As he walked to the stands by the rink, he saw his girlfriend glide across the rink as she stretched her hands in the most delicate way possible while practising her program with her coach looking at her intensely from the stands.

“More, Y/N! More!” “Straighten the back of the knee!” “Smile!” “Don’t be so sloppy!” Coach Gaul screamed from the side of the ice rink as Y/N glided past her to do her quad before doing her triple axel flawlessly. Coriolanus sat on the edge of the stand, looking at his girlfriend almost as if he was observing her before he suddenly heard a bunch of little giggles and laughs beside him as he turned to look at the bunch of junior girls who stopped their off-ice stretching to look at his girlfriend practising her program.

“She’s so pretty..” “Literally, how does she do that?” “Oh my god, her boyfriend is so hot, someone get me a hockey boyfriend please” “I wonder how big his d-” “Oh my god, Sasha! Don’t say that!” The girls whispered amongst each other as they giggled as if they were girls from middle school. Coriolanus smirked as he pretended to cough, making all the girls look at him horrified that they realised that he heard their conversation. They all walk away with their heads down as Coach Gaul’s assistant calls the girls to start their warm-ups on the ice, making Coriolanus smirk even harder.

Coriolanus walks towards the side of the rink as he puts his hands in the pocket of his sweatpants as he watches his girlfriend converse with her coach, waiting for feedback while he stands there, entranced by her beauty. As she glides back on the ice, Coriolanus feels himself getting hard as he watches her practise her routine with her hands behind her back, making his mind go crazy with the possibility of the things they could do. Mind you, by this point they’ve hooked up quite a few times.

As Y/N comes towards the end of her routine, she finally notices her boyfriend as she gives him a small wave before doing her final moves, her coach clapping on the side of the rink. “Good job, Y/N. There are some technical things we need to work on but you’ve improved. Now, go take your leave.” Y/N nods as she bids her coach goodbye before running towards her boyfriend and tackling him with a bone-crushing hug, her boyfriend hugging her back just as hard as she squeals, “I can't believe you’re here! I thought you were on an off-day with the guys today!” 

Coriolanus chuckles in a distracted way as he chides while stroking her hair, “Yeah, that’s true but the one thing I didn’t tell you was that I actually wanted to watch my darling skate today. How are you, sweetheart? Anything hurting? I brought us some donuts and coffee for breakfast?” Y/N groaned as she looked up at her boyfriend with a grateful smile, “You didn’t need to get me anything, love. I know you’ve been busy lately.. You know I’m all fine, right? I’m not a broken doll” She jokes as she raises her eyebrow, making her boyfriend smirk as he leaned down to give his girlfriend a peck on her lips before saying, “I know that, baby. But I was thinking we can do a little something as a treat for you doing so well in your practice so far.” He said in a dazed tone as he took a glance at her ass before giving it a slap, making Y/N glare at him from her current stance. Coriolanus’s dick got harder after hearing her groan as it reminded him of the several intimate interactions that he had with his girlfriend. Little did he know, Y/N saw his aching dick right as she came up to him, making the situation much more interesting as she noticed how he looked at her. Knowing how hard he’s been working, she wanted to give him a chance to relax after a long week of training. 

The tension between them got a little more heated after that slap as both Y/N’s and Coriolanus’s looked at each other in a much more sensual way, their eyes having a particular sheen over it before a cough from Y/N disrupted the moment. “Okay, then. Let me get my stuff from the locker. I’ll see you later, captain…” Y/N said as she turned around and walked away, her hips swaying just a bit more to tempt her boyfriend into joining her in the locker. Coriolanus immediately took notice of this as he followed her, Y/N stopping at one point to grab his hand and interlock his fingers with hers as they made their way to the locker. 

Thankfully, no one was in the locker by that time as all the skaters were on the rink preparing to start practising their programs. Y/N closed the door behind her as Coriolanus pinned her towards her door as he wrapped his hands in her hair and kissed her while her hands pressed up against his chest as she smiled into the kiss. Wet, squelching sounds echoed around the room as their tongues moulded against each other in perfect sequence as if they were made for each other. As they made out, they peeled off each other’s clothes slowly as they were wrapped up in this bubble where they were the only ones there and no one else existed.

By the time they pulled away from each other, they were both down to their underwear. Coriolanus crouched down as he peeled Y/N’s lacy red panties off her as licked a line up her slit, tasting the sweet nectar hidden under her skate wear as he hummed in satisfaction before sucking on her clit, making Y/N see stars as her moans echoed around the room. Y/N reached down to cradle her boyfriend’s head as he worked her up to a beautiful, soul-capturing orgasm, making her heave big sighs while coming down her high. 

Y/N and Coriolanus gave each other a deep kiss as she tasted herself on his tongue before it was her turn to kneel down and give his aching hardness the love that it deserves. She kissed her way down his abs as she pulled down his boxers, revealing his aching, hard dick leaking with pre-cum in all its glory. The veins were clearly invisible as Y/N hummed in satisfaction before she licked the tip of his dick, savouring the taste of his pre-cum as she moaned. She continued this a few times before she went deeper and deeper until her throat reached the base of his cock, making Coriolanus groan with great pleasure as she gagged occasionally and started to work him into an orgasm by pulling her head in and out of his dick in a once slow motion before building up her speed in a way she knew her boyfriend liked.

“Ugh, so good, baby… Keep doing that, you’re gonna make me cum, sweetheart.” Coriolanus groaned as he wrapped his hand around a bunch of her hair as he guided her in and out of his dick. His groans and her moans echoed around the room as the atmosphere got dirtier before Coriolanus pushed her head closer than it’s ever been before he came with one final groan, making Y/N moan even louder at seeing his satisfaction in her efforts to please him.

As Coriolanus came down from his orgasm, Y/N pulled her mouth off him as she wiped her mouth clean of her saliva before jutting out her tongue, letting him see that she swallowed it all before she laughed a little at her boyfriend’s dark glance at her. Coriolanus’s head turned around to the side as his groan this time was animalistic as he grabbed his girlfriend from her place on her knees before him and smashed his lips with her before he turned her around and pushed her towards the door before shoving his now hard length into her in one thrust. 

Both Y/N and Coriolanus let out a groan as they wrapped their arms around each other as he pushed his dick in and out of her pussy as her ass bounced back towards his dick with her force. The room now echoed with the sound of skin slapping around it, along with her louder moans and his harsher groans as he turned her face to the side before capturing her lips in another searing kiss as they both come with him holding her tits in his hands and bringing her as close to him as possible.

Y/N and Coriolanus breathed heavily as they came down from their euphoric orgasm. Coriolanus cradled Y/N’s face as he leaned in and captured her lips in little kisses as he checked over her to see if she was okay. After making sure she was okay, he grabbed a bunch of tissue paper as he cleaned them up before he helped her pack up her skating luggage before they opened the door and left the rink wrapped up in each other’s love. Little did they know, both Coach Gaul and her assistant were staring at them appalled as they overheard them while going to the bathroom a while ago. 

[haddonfieldwhore]

torn - vince dunn

vince dunn x fem!reader (x platonic! matthew tkachuk)

summary: with seattle on an 8 game losing streak, it’s even more difficult to choose who to cheer for; your boyfriend or your best friend

word count: 4k

warnings: language, a sprinkle of angst, drinking, nsfw themes implied but nothing explicit, mention of cheating

you fiddled absentmindedly with your fingers in your lap as you sat in the audience, paying little attention to the practice skate happening in the rink. your mind was elsewhere, unable to focus on your boyfriend vince dunn and his team as you thought about his instead. matthew tkachuk had been your best friend for as long as you could remember, and while you should have been overjoyed at the fact that you got to see him tonight, the fact that he was on the opposing team did slightly complicate things.

while it was just a game at the end of the day, it wasn’t at the same time. it felt like a double edged sword; while you knew you would be happy with whoever won, that also meant that one of your two favourite people had to lose, and you didn’t want that.

you breathed a sigh of relief that this was their last regular season game against eachother, the panthers and the kraken not meeting up too often. you felt you phone buzz in your pocket and checked it to see a text from matthew.

you looked up at the clock on the wall, which read 10:49am, meaning the kraken were almost done and you wouldn’t miss too much if you snuck out now.

you gathered your stuff, sneaking out without drawing attention to yourself, and not noticing the green eyes of your boyfriend flickering up to notice your empty seat. it was only about 15 minutes before matthew arrived, meeting you outside the cafe by sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. you let out a shriek, earning a few weird looks from people around the room as you turned around.

“you scared me!” you punched matthews chest lightly, before throwing your arms around his neck in a bone crushing hug.

“that was kind of the idea,” he laughed, holding you tight as he laughed. it had been months since you had seen him, and you always missed him like crazy when you were apart.

“you cut your hair!” you commented on his appearance as you finally looked at his face. you had obviously seen him on tv and in pictures since you last saw him in person, but it wasn’t the same as being fave to face. “last time i saw you your curls were crazy,” you smiled, remembering how long his hair had grown out.

“yeah, it’s a lot to fit under the helmet,” he smiled, and finally let go of you.

“also,” you began. “happy belated birthday! i can’t believe we were one day off from getting to spend it together,” you pouted, thinking of his birthday that had been just yesterday.

“thank you. we can celebrate tonight- after the game. i think we’re sticking around in seattle until at least tomorrow morning so we have all night.”

“deal,” you smiled, shaking his hand.

•

after a quick shower, vince towel dried his curly hair and threw on a kraken hoodie and some shorts, taking advantage of the warmer than usual weather despite it being mid december. usually after practice you were waiting for him outside the locker room, but he had a pretty good feeling that you wouldn’t be there to greet him today; the empty hallway confirming his suspicions as he sighed.

“everything okay? she’s never not here.”

vince looked up to nod his head softly at tye kartye, one of his teammates and one of your close friends. “where is she?”

“with tkachuk,” dunn replied, not meaning to sound so bitter. “he’s her best friend; they never get to see eachother,” he recovered, not wanting to give the impression that he was upset about it. he had no issue with you having friends that were on other teams, especially since you had been friends with matthew far longer than you had been dating him.

“sharing trade secrets about our practice?” tye joked innocently, and vince punched his arm.

“you know she wouldn’t. and besides, i don’t think she was really paying attention anyway,” he laughed. he pulled his phone out of his bag, checking to see if you had messaged him, trying not to be too disappointed when he saw no notifications on the screen.

•

you and matthew were walking around seattle, not straying too far from the arena, when your phone went off.

you smiled at the message, and didn’t notice matthew had stopped in front of you until you ran straight into his chest.

“loverboy wondering where you are?” he teased innocently.

“he’s just checking in. their practice just ended.”

“any-“

“don’t even ask. i am sworn to secrecy,” you scolded, with a finger pressed to his lips to quiet him. he smirked, raising his hands in surrender.

“i see how it is. does that mean you’re cheering for him tonight over me?” he asked playfully.

“i’m cheering for both of you. i don’t want either of you lose,” you admitted, and matthew threw an arm around your shoulder.

“i know. and i’m sorry they have to lose but-“

“hey!” you laughed. “don’t be an ass.”

“sorry,” he smiled. “and i promise to try not to hit him too hard in to the boards-“

“hey!” you repeated, but you knew that he was only messing with you.

“okay okay i’m done.”

•

you had gone home to vince’s apartment once matthew had to go to the panthers practice, giving you some time to get ready before the game. you and the birthday-boy would be going out straight after the game, so you had to get a little fancier than you usually did for a game, knowing you wouldn’t have time to do your makeup or anything.

putting on an outfit appropriate for clubbing and doing your hair and makeup took a little longer than usual, and soon it was time to head down to the arena with vince. he walked out of your shared bedroom dressed in his suit for the evening, a dark purple colour with a subtle blue plaid pattern. no matter how many times you saw him get dressed up, it still made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“you really do look great in a suit,” you smiled, smoothing out his blue tie and brushing that one curl that never seemed to stay put off his forehead. he leaned down to kiss your lips softly.

“you look amazing. although i have a weird feeling this isn’t all for me..” he said hesitantly, his hands landing softly on your waist.

“i mean of course it’s for you,” you paused, kissing the side of his neck softly. “but i do have plans after the game with matthew,” you admitted, feeling guilty even though you knew he wouldn’t mind.

“i had a feeling,” vince laughed, but kissed your forehead. “you are still cheering for us during the game though, right?” he smiled.

“yes, but he’s gonna be a bummer to hang out with if they lose, so think of me if that happens,” you laughed as he kissed you again, before grabbing your bag for you and getting the door. you weren’t sure how it was time to go already, but you were only getting more nervous standing around waiting, so you were happy to get going, following close behind vince as he left the apartment.

•

you and vince arrived at the arena, but split off since he had a few things to do before the game; usual player stuff. you were in the back when the panthers arrived, and while most of them didn’t pay you any mind, a certain player with golden curls sent you a wink as he walked by and into the visitors locker room. you decided that while yes, you were hoping that seattle won the game (florida could afford the loss more than the kraken could right now), you would still be an encouraging friend, texting matthew a quick ‘good luck 🥰’.

you put your phone away, and took a deep breath, trying to ease your nerves. you and a few of the other players girlfriends went to your seats, and you tapped your fingers on your knee, drowning out the conversation going on around you. a hand in your shoulder snapped you out of your trance, and you turned to look at valerie, who was engaged to jared, one of the forwards for seattle.

“you okay?” she asked, and you smiled.

“yeah - just a little nervous if i’m being honest.”

“what’s going on?”

“my best friend plays for florida, so i’m just a little upset that one of the teams had to lose,” you laughed, and val giggled.

“aww. it’s okay honey. that’s the game; someone wins and someone loses - and i’m sure both vince and your friend know that.”

“you’re right,” you sighed, her words making you feel better. “thanks val.”

“no problem. are you and vince going out after the game? you’re all fancy today.”

“no, actually i have plans with matthew - my friend.”

“tkachuk?”

“yeah.”

“so you have a bit of a type, huh? tall, curly hair, a little dangerous…” she teased.

“shush.”

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding,” she bumped her shoulder against yours softly. “i won’t tell anyone if you secretly cheer for florida,” she whispered in your ear.

“i still want us to win,” you took a sip from your drink. “i just don’t want the other team to lose.” you both laughed at the redundant statement, and the players came out into the ice to skate around before the game began.

“what’s tkachuk’s number again? i want to keep an eye on him for you,” val asked.

“19,” you smiled. “i’m sure he’ll make his presence known.” as if on queue, you saw matt in the starting lineup out on the ice, and he nodded his head towards you, and you smiled.

“yeah, you definitely have a type.”

•

the first period went by without too much excitement, besides vince getting a penalty for a high stick. while you would never admit it to him, you always thought he looked hot sitting in the penalty box. florida got a few more power plays in the second period, but yamamoto was still able to score the only goal so far, giving seattle a 1-0 lead. you noticed vince and matt give eachother a couple shoves as play was whistles down for a save from seattles goalie, daccord.

bellemare scored the second goal for seattle, giving us an even bigger lead, and while i was happy for the kraken, my mood fell as my eyes landed on matty. he was sitting on the panthers bench, chewing on his mouthguard instead of wearing it properly, as always. on his next shift he got a good shot, but it was deflected, and the start of a fight broke out between vince and one of the other panthers, but it was quickly broken up.

wennberg intercepted a pass and got a breakaway to score seattles third goal, and your gaze went to the florida bench again. as your eyes found matthew, you realized he was already looking at you. you mouthed a sincere “i’m sorry” at your best friend, and you knew he understood it when he tilted his head sideways with a shrug; but you could tell he was frustrated.

florida pulled their goalie with five minutes left in the game, and tolvanen scored an empty netter to secure the victory early. the girls were cheering next to you and you smiled as they announced that vince got an assist on the goal, adding to his already impressive tally of points on the season so far. the time dwindled down to nothing, confirming the win for seattle and in turn earning daccord his first nhl shutout.

the fans cheered as the kraken skated around celebrating, and the panthers headed back to the locker room.

•

you were leaning up against the wall talking with some of the teams girlfriends when you felt arms wrap around your midsection from behind, and a soft kiss being placed on the junction between your shoulder and your neck. you giggled as vince’s stubble tickled your skin, and you turned around and kissed him on the lips.

“hey,” you smiled, admiring the sparkle that always appeared in his eyes when the kraken won.

“hey yourself,” he smiled, kissing you again, before his eyes traveled up and down your body, taking in every inch of your outfit. “you’re sure you’re not gonna hang with us? we’re going to kartye’s place, it’s gonna be a good time….” he trailed off, his fingers drumming softly against your hips.

“i’m sad i’m missing it, but i promised matthew; it was his birthday yesterday and i haven’t seen him in forever,” you pouted, and vince nodded.

“i get it, don’t worry. i just thought i’d ask.”

“you could come with us?” you offered, and he smiled, but shook his head.

“i don’t wanna third wheel,” he teased. “go have fun. i get you all the time, he can have you for one night.”

i raised an eyebrow, and vince seemed to realize the error in his wording.

“not like that,” he scolded, a light blush on his face, and you laughed.

“i’m kidding. you’re the only one who gets me in that way.”

“good,” vince said, his confidence returning as he kissed you deeply, before the rest of the team started exiting the locker room.

“hey, you coming out with us?” yamamoto asked, and you shook your head, but vince answered for you.

“she’s got a date with the enemy,” he replied, and you shot him a glare for throwing you under the bus, but knew the team wouldn’t care. they hazed you for a minute, but you laughed it off before they stole vince from you, him calling out for you to text him if anything happened. you waved to the guys and said goodnight to the girls before heading towards the visitors locker room to find matthew.

the panthers were still inside when you got there, so you sat on a bench in the hallway while you waited. about 10 minutes went by before anyone exited the room, and finally a defeated looking tkachuk walked out of the door. he perked up slightly when he saw you, and you stood up, gasping slightly as he lifted you up in the air. to not fall, you wrapped you arms and legs around him like a koala bear, laughing as he spun around.

“stop you’re gonna drop me!”

“i would never,” he replied, but set you down on your feet anyway. “you ready to go?” he asked, and you looked at the white button up shirt he had on with some dark jeans. his hair was still slightly damp from his post-game shower, and he smelled like his usual cologne.

“yeah, what the plan?”

“there’s gotta be a club around here somewhere right?” he asked, and you nodded, remembering the handful of times you had gone out with the team to celebrate after a game.

“yeah, i know a place.”

“well what are we waiting for?” he smiled.

•

a few hours and many drinks later, you found yourself being pulled onto the dance floor by matthew, some throwback hip hop song blaring through the speakers of the club. his hands were on your hips as you danced to the music, your back to his chest as your bodies got closer together. the club lighting was low except for the flashing stove lights, casting different colours across the people in the room.

“what are you thinking about?” matthew asked, his breath fanning across your ear as he leaned closer so you could hear him over the music, and you realized you must have zoned out.

“i’m sorry you guys lost the game.”

he laughed, using his grip on your waist to turn you to face him, his hands never leaving your body.

“it’s fine,” he shook his head, but his eyes didn’t meet yours, so you could tell he wasn’t too happy about it.

“sorry, i shouldn’t have brought it up. kinda ruined the mood.” his gaze found yours now, the bright blue of his eyes slightly hazy from the alcohol.

“and what mood was that?” he smirked.

“we’re celebrating your birthday, matty,” you smiled, throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face against his collarbone. you felt another laugh rumble in his chest, as his arms encircled you, and you breathed in the way he smelled; expensive. you looked up at him, and found him already looking at you, his eyes half closed, either from intoxication or tiredness. without thinking, you placed a soft peck on his lips, and then both of your froze. his eyes were wide now, and you stuttered incoherently.

“i didn’t mean to do that,” you finally said.

“you didn’t?”

“no,” you confirmed.

“okay,” he laughed, and you hit his bicep softly.

“it’s not funny matty, i fucked up,” you said seriously, and he cleared his throat.

“okay, just breathe,” he said as you began to panic. “let’s get some fresh air okay?” he led you outside, the cool december air helping to sober you up quickly. there was no one stood outside the club except a couple people smoking a little ways down the sidewalk. you leaned against the side of the building as you continued to freak out. you had to tell vince- and now, before some paparazzi posted a photo of it and he found out some other way.

you pulled out your phone, and matthews eyes widened again as his hand gently wrapped around yours.

“what are you doing?”

“i have to tell him,” you mumbled.

“tell who what-“

“tell my boyfriend that i just cheated on him, matthew. oh god-“ you cried, tears welling in your eyes.

“are you sure you should call him right now? you’re hyperventilating.”

“he needs to know. and he needs to hear from me first before he finds out from someone else,” you insisted, somehow managing to calm for breathing down, though your heart remained pounding against your ribcage.

“okay. you’re right,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “it’s not like it meant anything, right? it was a stupid drunken kiss.”

“yes. i love you, but not like that, dude.” you both laughed, and you were glad to be on the same page about it. matty would always be your best friend, and there had never been anything romantic between the two of you.

“agreed,” he smiled. “i’ll give you some privacy, but i’m not leaving you out here alone. i’ll be over there if you need me,” he said, and walked down the side of the building, keeping you in his line of sight under safe watch. you took a shaky breath, and scrolled through your phone to vince’s contact, and pressed the call button.

“hello?” he answered, and you could hear loud music in the background.

“vince - it’s me. can you hear me?” you replied, and you heard the sound of a door and the music getting quieter, like he had gone into another room.

“hey, babe. yeah i can hear you now. is everything okay?” he asked, a concerned tone in his voice.

“yes - well no- but yes, i’m fine. i need to tell you something.”

“what is it?” he asked.

“i accidentally kissed matthew,” you admitted, closing your eyes like it would stop you from hearing his reaction. “we got really drunk and it just happened and it was one tiny little kiss and i’m so sorry,” you blabbered, before listening to a long painful silence on the other side of the phone.

“it didn’t mean anything? it was just a mistake?” he asked calmly, and you were a little shocked. you hadn’t exactly expected him to yell at you, but you thought he would at least sound… angrier.

“god no - of course it didn’t. i love you so much and i’m so sorry.”

“does he know it didn’t mean anything?” he asked, the expected anger a little more present in his voice this time.

“yes, vince. we’re just friends; i promise,” you insisted, and you heard him sigh on the other end.

“okay. i mean i’m not happy about it but if it didn’t mean anything i i’ll get over it. i’ll kiss one of the guys and we’ll call it even, okay?” he teased, and you laughed, slightly in relief but also in disbelief.

“have you been drinking?” you teased, and he gave a genuine laugh.

“maybe a little. but seriously - if it was just an accident i forgive you. are you guys staying out for a bit? do you need me to call you a cab or anything?” he asked, and you smiled at how much of a sweetheart he was.

“i think we’ve both had enough partying for one night. i’ll get a cab home, okay? are you and guys staying out much longer?” you replied.

“okay, text me when you’ve made it home. i think we’re almost calling it a night, so i’ll be there soon.”

“okay. i love you.”

“i love you too.” he said, and the call ended. matthew saw you put your phone away, and walked back over to you.

“is he coming here to kill me?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes, wondering how he could joke at a time like this.

“no - i have the best boyfriend in the world and he said everything is fine since it was just a drunken mistake.” speaking of vince your phone went off in your hand and you looked at the screen to see a text with a picture of larsson and yamamoto kissing him on either cheek, a big goofy smile on his face. below it was a text that just said “now we’re even 🩵” and you shook your head, smiling as you showed matt.

“i don’t know him too well but he seems like a good guy.”

“he is,” you smiled. “i’m gonna call it a night, and you probably should to, considering i’m sure you guys have to be in the road pretty early tomorrow.”

“yeah you’re right,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “i’ll see you during the holiday break, right?” he asked. the teams always got a few days off at christmas and you usually spent at least one of them together. that meant it would o it be a few weeks before you got to see each other again.

“of course,” you said, wrapping your arms around him in a hug, suddenly sad to be saying goodbye so soon.

“okay,” he smiled, returning the hug as your cab pulled up. “tell dunn i’m sorry. and congrats on the win.”

“i will. text me in the morning?” he nodded in response, and pulled out his phone to call a cab of his own. you sighed as the car pulled away, and you shut your eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted.

•

you were home long enough to shower and get into your pyjamas, which was just one of vince’s t-shirts and some shorts, before you heard his keys in the door. you ran over to him and he wrapped you in his arms immediately, his familiar scent filling your nose as you buried your face in his chest.

“i’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“i know. i forgive you,” he laughed softly. “i am a little sad i don’t get to take that outfit off you, but i might like this one even more.”

you smiled, placing soft kisses up his neck until your lips connected. he walked you backwards to the bedroom and let your fingers undo the buttons of his shirt. once he was down to his boxers, you both crawled into bed, your head on his chest as his fingers traced little patterns on your thigh.

“i love you,” you mumbled, very sleepy after a long day.

“i love you too.”

“i love you more than anyone else on earth,” you clarified, and it was the truth. vince smiled, though you couldn’t see it, and kissed the top of your head.

“i know. goodnight baby,” he said softly, and you were out before you could say anything back. while he wasn’t exactly happy about what had happened, he felt better knowing that at the end of the day, it was his arms that you were falling asleep in.

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[a-simple-imagine]

That Warm Christmas Feeling

Synopsis: Your spending the holidays with Jordan but you wake up feeling hot…

Pairing: Jordan Li x fem!reader

Words: 1k+

A/N - Happy holidays my lovelies. I woke up feeling absolutely awful which sucks but here’s a little gift. It's short and messy but enjoy.

WARNINGS - swearing

a blanket of white snow paved the way for joyful celebration and family festivities. the festive season had been deep in your bones since late November. the cheesy Christmas movies. the bright flashing lights. and jolly old men in beards. you never cared much for the festive season by any means, it almost seemed like too much but you were making a conscious effort to try and enjoy it. you want the first holiday season together to feel even just a little special. you had been dragging them along to all kinds of festive events. you had been ice skating and drank hot chocolate. Christmas shopping around the markets. it was all just fun and games. the main event was to take place at their home. your first time meeting their parents. it seemed like such a big step for a rather new relationship but you weren’t against the idea. it would be fun.

a loud groan forces its way past your lips as you roll onto your back. a dull ache settles deep in your bones. a thick fog invades your head as your brain throbs. a blocked, tickly nose. great. you’re sick. on Christmas day of all days. you pull the covers up over your head to escape the sun peaking through the windows. couldn’t have picked a worse day. “good morning,” whispered in your ear. there’s an edge of excitement to their voice. their hand comes up to remove the duvet and reveal your less-than-pleased expression. You move away from them, burying your fave deeper into the pillow. “You good? I thought you'd be more excited. My parents have a full day planned, you're gonna love it.”

A pit of guilt or nausea grows in your stomach. You really wanna get up and enjoy the day but you also just wanna go back to sleep. “Please don't be mad,” you mumble against the fabric of the pillow.

“Why would I be mad?”

“I feel like shit,” you admit. “I think I'm sick.”

“Oh,” there's a pause that almost allows you to drift off again. “That's shit.”

“I’m sorry,”

“no no don’t be,” they reassure you. “You should stay in bed if you're not feeling up to it.”

“is that okay?” you ask quietly.

“Sure, they’ll understand. go back to sleep and I’ll check on you in a little bit, okay?” your only answer is a slow nod that pushes the fabric of the pillow roughly across your cheek. The door clicks shut and you drift off into sweet, sweet unconsciousness.

The time is a mystery when your eyes flicker open next. The world doesn't feel real as your head hammers with an uncertain pain. You sniffle as you fall onto your back. That's when you spot Jordan approaching with a steaming hot beverage in their hand. “How you feeling?” you just groan extra loudly emphasising just how awful you felt about the entire situation. “so good then yeah,” the bed dips beside you and he reaches over with a free hand to check your head. you don’t feel particularly hot so it probably wasn’t a fever. “Mom made you some tea, said it’d fix you right up but don’t feel like you have to.”

pushing up into a seated position, Jordan hands over a mug decorated with little Christmas trees and snowflakes. a heavy sigh leaves your lips. it really did feel like more effort than it was worth just sitting up straight. you take a cautious sip and warmth spills through your veins. “I feel like I ruined today,” you mumble into your cup. staring down at the swirling liquid. “I should have mentioned earlier.”

“you didn’t ruin anything,” Jordan expresses, a calming hand placed on your leg over the covers. “it’s not your fault you got sick.”

“I haven’t really felt great the last couple days but I thought it’d just go away.” you shrug, taking a much larger sip. “I really wanted to do Christmasy things with you. your parents probably think I’m awful.”

“They don’t think that,” they chuckle softly. “just focus on getting better and we can do Christmasy things tomorrow. they won’t mind.”

“thank you for the tea,” you reply handing back the drink.

“and besides,” he takes the drink back. “you’re giving me an excuse to get away from them. I need a break every now and then.“are you hungry?” you shake your head slowly. falling back down against the bed.

“tired.”

they just chuckle. “I’m gonna sit here a moment longer before I brace my parents again. just ignore me.”

the room is shrouded in darkness when Jordan enters once more. a crack of light filtering through the door. you don’t bother acknowledging them; just pull the thick duvet closer to your chest. a heavy sigh fills the air but it doesn’t come from you. the bed dips beside you. “are you awake?” they ask but you don’t bother answering. a silence a silence falls over the room as they shuffle about doing god only knows what. “I’m sorry you got sick,” Jordan speaks aloud. “I wish you could have spent the day with us. my parents can be a lot but they do go all out for Christmas… and I was looking forward to giving you your present,” their voice is quiet and you’re not sure if you should admit to being awake now. “my parents would have loved it. they’re already obsessed with you and they’re so happy I finally brought someone home. and I was gonna tell you I love you” After a moment you know they’re climbing into bed with you. an arm around your waist. you roll over to face them. “maybe tomorrow.”

“you’re gonna get sick,” mumbled out.

“I don’t mind,”

“Are you sure?”

“mhmm,” hummed softly and you don’t bother arguing. you just snuggle closer to his chest. they feel safe and comforting. a welcomed addition to your cosy domain. “I’m glad you’re here,”

“I’m glad you’re here,” you repeat against their chest. “and for what it’s worth. I… love you too.”

“you heard all that,” you don’t respond just shuffle further into his embrace. falling asleep to the sound of their heartbeat as a gentle kiss is pressed against your head.

[nicohischierz]

the one that got away: quinn hughes

you had taken your eyes off your son for a split second before he ran away. the two of you were at prudential centre for the canucks vs devils game to watch your friend beau. 

“look tito can i call you back, luke just ran off and i need to go find him,” you tito, cutting the line on him. panic hit your body as soon as you couldn’t find your son’s hand 

he was only five years old, but he was as impatient as ever. especially when it came to hockey. you looked for any sign of your little boy when all of a sudden a women with blonde hair walked over to you, your son in her hands. 

“mom!” lucas exclaimed, letting go of the women and running straight into your arms. once your son was in your arms, you looked up to thank the woman and your heart dropped. 

in front of you stood ellen hughes. your ex-boyfriends mother. “y/n?” she asked slowly, you nodded standing up as lucas grabbed your hand again. “mama, we have to go now. tito is waiting for us and maybe i can see jack hughes!” your son exclaimed. 

“which way are you headed?” ellen asked. you pointed in the direction the two of them came in and she nodded “is it alright if i walk with you?” you smiled at her “of course,”

the three of you walked in silence until you reached the entrance to your seats. lucas was about to run off before you stopped him “luke, what do you say,” you prompted. 

“thank you for taking me back to my mom,” your son thanked, giving ellen a quick hug before running down to the glass. you watched as tito spotted the young boy and skated over to him. 

ellen looked at your son in awe before she turned to you, her eyes were slightly glossy. of course, she already knew who lucas’s father was. your son was a carbon copy of his father at a young age. 

“i found out when i was at nyu after quinn and i split, so he doesn’t know about him. umm i didn’t even know that i was pregnant until someone told me to take a test. i’m sorry,” you confessed. 

“honey, you have nothing to be sorry about. i just can’t believe you managed to raise such a sweet boy on your own, especially with school and i’m assuming work as well,” ellen brought you in for a hug, which you accepted. 

you wiped a rogue tear from your eye as ellen did the same. “i mean tito has been a great help. he was there when i found out i was pregnant, i honestly don’t think i’d be where i am today without help from tito, barzy or tavares,” you explained. 

“he looks so much like quinn,” ellen mumbled. you nodded and smiled slightly looking down at your son as he watched jack warm up. “he loves hockey too. whenever the isles play, we get tickets occasionally for home games but otherwise we always have to watch. even the devils, luke loves jack,” you chuckled slightly. 

“maybe after the game i could ask jack to sign a jersey for him,” ellen suggested. you knew what she was doing and you knew you couldn’t say no to her. “i’m sure lucas would love that,” 

ellen gave you one last hug before you headed towards your son. tito had skated back up to the glass once he noticed you joining lucas and pointed at the puck he had given your son. 

quinn had been watching his new teammate from the moment he went up to the little boy. his friends petey and brock were stood next to him and they couldn’t believe that anthony had a son. 

but when quinn saw you with the boy and anthony skate up to the two of you again his body filled with rage. the boy couldn’t be more than five years old and the thought of you getting with one of his new teammates irked him. 

petey and brock picked up on quinn’s mood change immediately and as soon as they saw you, they knew who you were. the two had been one the receiving end of quinn’s many rants on how he regretted breaking up with you. 

throughout the game quinn tried his best to ignore you and your son but when he looked up into the crowd his eyes always trailed to your seats. he even caught a glimpse of your son jumping up at you when he chased after jack. 

when the game ended, he wasn’t even upset by the game itself. he was upset that he let the life he wanted with you slip from his grasps. 

“mama come on, we have to find tito. he’s going to be extra sad today because this is his first game okay so we don’t tell him that mat is taking me for ice cream,” your five year old rushed through the arena determined to find his uncle.

you’d been around prudential centre during your time working with the isles so you steered your son around, making sure he didn’t get lost again. the two of you were stood outside when lucas saw ellen. “hi!” your son exclaimed running up to the woman. 

“lucas wyatt l/n, what did i tell you about running off?” you asked picking your son up and spinning him around. ellen laughed at the two of you as your son squirmed in your arms. 

it took jim a minute to place a name to your face but once he did so his face softened. the little girl that he considered his daughter was all grown up and now she had a son as well. you gave jim a small smile as ellen spoke to lucas.

“you’re so grown up,” jim mumbled as he brought you in for a hug. you chuckled slightly as you tightened your grip on him. “how old is he?” jim asked, you had assumed ellen would’ve told jim everything but you were slightly grateful she hadn’t. 

you looked at your son who was telling ellen the story of how his uncles taught him how to skate “he’s five now and he’s as stubborn as his father,” you grumbled. 

jim laughed at your statement and went to introduce himself to lucas. you were watching your son interact with his grandparents when you heard someone whisper your name. you had no time to turn properly before jack had you in a hug.

“is it really you? like you’re here at a game and i’m not hallucinating,” jack rambled as he pulled away. you squeezing jack’s shoulders was enough reassurance that you were in fact there. 

the middle hughes was about to go into another ramble on how excited he was to see you when he felt a little tap on his hand. jack looked down to see a boy who looked eerily similar to his brother. 

lucas looked up at his idol and froze, unsure of what to ask. “mama, what am i supposed to say,” your son panicked as he ran back to you. jack felt his heart tighten as he watched his nephew run to you. 

“hey buddy, do you want a picture?” jack asked crouching down to face your son. lucas nodded and slowly made his way over to jack as the older boy wrapped his arm around your son. 

“oh no, is this going to replace the picture of you and me bud?” tito joked as he spotted lucas and jack. lucas’s face lightened up at the voice of his uncle and he barrelled into tito.

the quebec native picked lucas up and gave you a hug before turning to introduce himself to ellen and jim. but just as tito gave you a hug, quinn walked out.

quinn was about to do something rash when jack stepped in front of his brother. “say hello and walk away,” jack whispered in his brother’s ear.

and that’s exactly what he did. he said hello to his parents parents, gave a nod to his teammates and then turned to you. “hi,” he greeted.

you smiled over at him, repeating the greeting. you glanced slowly at your son, who was whispering in tito’s ear pointing at the defensemen.

the newest canuck dropped lucas on the floor and he ran up to quinn “my name is lucas and i play the same position!” he introduced.

although quinn was mad, he couldn’t help but notice the similarity between him and the little boy. a quick look into the eyes of his parents gave him everything he needed to know.

a smile made its way onto quinn’s face as he looked at you before asking lucas if he wanted a picture. quinn gave lucas a hug before coming to you.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered in his ear.

quinn shook his head and smiled at you, gently grabbing your face “you have nothing to be sorry for. everything is my fault,” he