verycoolusername1

[verycoolusername1]

It has been 71 hours since I last saw the caps play and I'm scrolling through old media like a widow re-reading letters from her husband lost at sea. They don’t play again until Tuesday. TUESDAY. BY TUESDAY I WILL BE LISTENING TO OBSCURE PODCAST EPISODES AND SILENTLY CRYING IN FETAL POSITION

[verycoolusername1]

[verycoolusername1]

Hi! Congratulations on 1,000 followers!

Can I request Clayton Keller and “just- please, can’t you see she’s in pain?!”

I preface this with I have never given birth, I have never been at a birth and I have never been in an American hospital. I did some light research but I am not a doctor or expert. I am a firm believer that Clayton is the sort of person who advocates for his partner so strongly. Normally soft spoken, normally calm, but will not tolerate any sort of bullshit when it comes to you, your health and your right to what happens to your body. Also Dad!Clay heals something in me. 1000 Followers Celly Currently ongoing 🥳🎉 (please read the rules) Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

You knew labour would be painful, you knew it would be a lot. You can't push an entire human out of your body without pain, you can't push something the size of a watermelon out of something the size of a lemon and expect it to be pain free or even just mildly uncomfortable. But, you never expected to be in so much pain and denied the pain relief that was so standard for labour; an epidural.

Clayton was besides himself, your grip on his hand so tight it felt like you might fracture a few bones. The worry kept mounting, as did the anger as you were denied the epidural you kept asking for, as he wiped sweat from your brow and watched you try to struggle through.

Every time you asked, you were told to wait, told that you were fine, that women did this every day without an epidural, that the gas and air should be enough. But, God, when you started crying? Started to drop that strong exterior and babble that you couldn't do this, it was too much? Clayton had reached his limit.

“Just- please, can’t you see she’s in pain?” The doctor is one of those old, fuddy duddy types. Traditional, cold, not the doctor either of you had been expecting when you'd come into the hospital after realising you were having a lot of contractions and quickly.

"Mr Keller, birth is painful. Epidurals are not necessary for a natural birth." It was dismissive, rude, and old fashioned. Clay dropped the pretence of politeness, the look sent towards the doctor enough to make him take a step back. Clay's brows furrowed, eyes narrowed, mouth pursed and even then he didn't let go of your hand, didn't deny you the comfort as you huffed on that useless gas and air and watched the two through eyes hazy with pain.

"I fucking know that, but you can give her an epidural, that's standard fucking practice and she's been asking for 2 hours." He doesn't care what the doctor thinks, what the nurses think...he cares about you and if he has to be a hardhead, has to be an asshole to get you the pain relief you're entitled to because some old prick thought pain was something women should have to go through? Then so be it.

"Mr Ke-"

"If you don't give my wife the epidural she's been asking for in the next 20 minutes I am going to come down on you with medical misconduct charge like a sack of fucking bricks. Need I remind you I have a lot of fucking money and my own legal team."

There's a pause, a moment of silence except for your pained noises and heavy breathing, a moment in which he stares the doctor down and the doctor stares back. But, there's a change there, a distinct 'oh fuck' moment that the doctor goes through as he remembers who is in front of him. Because Clayton might be normally soft spoken, calm, collected, but he does not fuck around about you. He does not play about you and he's reached his limit of bullshit for the day.

Clay watches as the doctor turns to one of the nurses with a sort of reluctant acceptance that tells Clay that if he hadn't pushed you'd have gotten nothing. That just pisses him off more.

"Leanne, get the epidural ready for me, please."

"Yes, doctor."

Clay watches the doctor like a hawk through the entire thing, still letting you crush his hand when you're asked to sit upright and lean forward. He doesn't let go or look away as the epidural is put into your back. The only time he does is to help you swing back around to lie down.

He brushes the hair from your face, the strands that have stuck to your skin from the sweat that has built and waits...5 minutes, 10 minutes, until it begins to work, until the relief is palpable, until his panic subsides just enough for his jaw to unclench.

"...Thank you," You say softly as you clutch at him as he leans over you and it's loaded, so loaded. You know as well as he does that without him here...if he'd been stuck on a roadie, at a game...without him you'd be in hours of pain with an unfeeling doctor.

It has Clay spending the rest of the birth hyper vigilant, hyper aware of every decision made and whether it aligns with your wishes and what you both had been told and researched over the last 9 months. There's a deep fear in him that if he doesn't the doctor might let something terrible happen to you, to the baby, that he's dealing with someone who just doesn't care...and the relief he feels when he hears that first cry? When your baby girl is placed on your chest so small except for her head which is far too big for her body (a real lollipop baby)? God, he feels like the weight of the world has fallen off of his shoulders.

That is until they go to take her away to get cleaned up and he sees your panic. You don't have to ask him to, he just knows to, as he follows the nurse and your baby girl, watches the entire time as they clean her and get her tidied and he demands to take her back to you, to hold his baby girl because he's certain there is no safer place for her than in his arms.

The relief you feel when you see him bringing her back is so strong that he hates this stupid hospital, the stupid doctor, for making you ever feel scared or doubtful. He's careful as he sits next to you on the bed, scooting so that you can lean against his shoulder as you blink down at your baby girl.

"She's perfect..." Your voice is tired as your baby girl blinks at the two of you with fresh new eyes, your eyes, but her nose? Her nose is all Clay as she scrunches it and wriggles against him, tiny fingers grappling for purchase on his chest and twisting against his chain. A gesture that reminds him of you.

"Mmm, she is, good job, mama. You did so good, baby." Clay presses a kiss to the top of your head, long, lingering, breathing you in. Relieved that you're okay, she's okay, because God, he's not entirely sure what he would do if you weren't.

And for all the stress, the anger, the fear, this was so worth it. Holding his baby girl was worth it.

[verycoolusername1]

Max congratulating Kimi on his first pole position, miami gp 2025

[verycoolusername1]

im worst girl in the world theres Every thing wrong with me

[verycoolusername1]

This Athletic article is kind of killing me because it's like, yeah this team is extremely horny and prolific! So many dads, so many kids! But it's the closing paragraphs that are getting me:

Ryan Leonard is having such a rookie debut; he is both the Team Baby except when he is also somehow the newest babysitter and future veteran.

[verycoolusername1]

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A post shared by Spittin' Chiclets (@spittinchiclets)

Legends!

[verycoolusername1]

I miss Quinn. I miss Quinn. I miss Quinn.

[verycoolusername1]

Media: Logan, sorry to make you talk about the guy sitting next to you, but just how important is Tom to what you guys do and how, I guess, big was that hit and everything today?

Logan Thompson: Well, I don’t need to make his head any bigger, but (laughs). No, he’s been huge for us. You know, he’s the heart and soul of this organization, right? You know, when he’s making plays, big hits, we feed off that. Especially in our home rink, I think the whole building feeds off it. So, um, he’s a huge part of this team, and, yeah, no, we love him. (Does head inflation motion with sound effects at Tom and laughs)

Tom Wilson: (smiling) ...that's it?

Logan Thompson with the love-bullying on Tom Wilson.

[verycoolusername1]

"Everyone wants to know: how many oranges did you eat today?"

"It's a secret."

[verycoolusername1]

love this video, lives in my mind all the time

naked cat and galgo 😭 poor boy just wanted to be a husky 😭

[verycoolusername1]

i miss them already

[verycoolusername1]

[QUINN] exit interview 18.04.2025 (x)

[verycoolusername1]

The jacket pt.2 ⋆ ★ L.Hughes

❗️requested - part one

Pairings: Luke Hughes x Fem!reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Based on this request: i was wondering if you’re open to do a pt.2 with gf’s reaction to his injury in the 3rd (around ~10:55) and maybe a post game where he’s just happy to see her in the jacket and she’s stressed bc he’s injured

Warnings: mentions of his injury but he’s okay

Word count: 608

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ what a fucked up day, the devils lost and im pretty sure my laptop is dying so i had to write this on my phone. have this part 2 of the jacket to hopefully make it a bit better.

Your heart almost stopped when you saw Luke laying in the net and the 10 seconds it took for him to get up felt more like 10 minutes. Today was supposed to be fun, and it had been, after the jackets you’d all eaten lunch and during the first intermission the kids had done an easter egg hunt, but all that seemed so far away now.

From your left Aly places her hand in your shoulder taking you out of your trance just as Luke gets up and skates away holding his shoulder in pain, the same shoulder he’d told you about that had been injured last year. You turn to look at her and one look is all it takes for her to understand, taking her son who was napping in your arms from you as you stand up with your phone in hand walking towards the house.

You check for updates that don’t come through for a while, texting him to let you know how he’s doing as soon as he gets a chance to and hoping that the lack of communication meant he was alright.

“Hey, he’s okay, he’s back on the ice” one of the girls tells you from the backyard doors and you feel like you can breathe again, locking your phone and rejoining the rest.

You’re back home when the call comes through, your phone ringing only once before you pick it up.

“Hi baby” His voice sounds tired, definitely not happy with the result of the game

“Oh god hi” You say “How are you?”

“Well that wasn’t how I wanted the game to go but hey what can you do? Seeing you in that jacket with my name on it sure does make today a bit better though” You can hear his smile through his words

“Yeah we’re definitely going to have a few words about that post later, but I don’t really care a lot about that right now, how’s your shoulder?” You ask worried that he went back to play while being injured

“Listen you just looked too good not to share, can’t wait to see it in person” He ignores your question about his shoulder

“Are you trying to distract me from the fact that you left the game clutching your shoulder in pain? Because it’s really not working baby” You tell him

“Maybe the good luck only works if you’re in the arena, hey wanna fly to Raleigh?” He jokes and that’s when you start getting concerned again

“Luke stop deflecting” Your tone is more stern this time and that’s when he realizes you’re actually worried about him and it’s time to stop joking around

“Baby I promise you I’m okay” He sighs “Shoulder’s good, just a bad hit, the doctors checked it and said I was okay to go back out there” You sigh too, relief flooding at his genuine tone “Will probably have to ice it today and tomorrow but I should be okay”

“Okay” You say “I’m glad you’re okay, got me worried for a minute there when you didn’t get back up”

“I’m all good” Your phone beeps, a facetime request “Now, how about you show me some outfits with your new jacket”

You accept the request, his face, with a big smile, covering your screen “Oh yeah, now that you’ve reminded me” His smile falls “What the hell were you thinking posting that picture”

But you’re not mad, and he knows you’re not mad, so after a playful scolding your phone is set in your dresser as you show Luke some outfits you were thinking of wearing for the home games.

[verycoolusername1]

Oh my god….