#gold... it makes the world go round [ic]

[dior-luxury]

How'd They Propose To You

PT.1 [trey clover . jack howl . jade leech . jamil viper . epel felmier . silver] PT.2 [cater . ruggie . floyd . kailm . vil . rook . idia . lilia . sebek]

( ✧ ) ────── fluff - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] trey clover . jack howl . jade leech . jamil viper . epel felmier . silver

- [𝐩:𝐬] Emotional Intimacy / Fluff . Marriage Proposal . Mentions of Future (e.g., family, dreams) . Slight Angst (Epel’s insecurities, Silver’s loneliness)

Note: I wrote these with lots of love and character insight — Epel’s countryside roots and yearning to be seen, and Silver’s desire for peace and purpose are central to their proposals. I hope this gives you warm fuzzy feelings 💕 Let me know if you'd like versions with other characters ! ♡( ◡‿◡ )

Trey Clover

It started with a letter.

You found it tucked inside your baking apron one quiet Saturday morning—a soft cream envelope, the Clover family seal pressed neatly in wax. The handwriting was unmistakably Trey’s: neat, deliberate, comforting. Inside was a note asking you to meet him at the Heartslabyul greenhouse at sunset.

The walk there was quiet, peaceful. Spring had arrived in full bloom. The air was sweet with budding roses and the earthy perfume of garden herbs. As you stepped into the greenhouse, the world seemed to pause.

It had been transformed.

Fairy lights twinkled through ivy-draped arches. Rows of potted clovers shimmered with droplets of dew, and glass jars glowed softly with fireflies. At the center stood a small round table, covered with a hand-stitched tablecloth embroidered with the Queen’s roses. A three-tiered cake sat on a stand, iced in white and green, decorated with edible flowers and delicate gold lettering.

You blinked. The letters read:

“Every chapter sweeter than the last.”

And then you heard his voice.

“Hey,” Trey said, stepping from behind a row of flowering bushes, dressed in a crisp button-up and vest, tie slightly loosened, eyes warm. “Hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

You smiled as he approached, his hands gently reaching for yours. He kissed your knuckles like he always did when words weren’t enough.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he said, voice quieter now, the weight of emotion in every word. “Ever since we baked our first cake together. Ever since you fell asleep in the library with flour in your hair and your smile still somehow sweeter than anything I could put in an oven.”

You laughed softly, eyes brimming.

Trey took a deep breath, pulling something from his pocket—a small velvet box, the color of forest leaves.

“I know life isn’t always going to be sugar and frosting,” he said. “There’ll be bitter days, tough bakes, and cracked crusts. But if I’m going to face any of that—burnt edges and all—I want it to be with you.”

He knelt slowly, the glassy floor reflecting the warmth in his eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

Inside the box was a ring shaped like a delicate vine wrapped around a single emerald, shaped like a clover leaf. Handcrafted. No doubt.

You could barely choke out the “yes” through your tears before he was standing again, arms around you, holding you like a man who had finally found home.

Later, you shared the cake. It was a perfect balance of tart raspberry and soft vanilla cream.

Just like Trey. Thoughtful. Grounded. Honest. And head-over-heels in love.

Jack Howl

With Jack, love had been something sacred. Not loud, not overly poetic—but fierce and deeply rooted. He wasn’t a man of flowery words, but everything he did—the way he protected you, respected you, always supported you—spoke volumes.

After finishing school, Jack had become a respected guardian of the Starlight Expanse—a sweeping range of ancient wildlands west of the Savannaclaw territory. He lived in a modest cabin, surrounded by pine trees, riverstones, and silence. And often, you visited, sharing weekends hiking the cliffs, lying under constellations, and sitting by campfires where he’d sneak glances at you like you were something he still couldn’t believe he deserved.

On the anniversary of your relationship, Jack invited you to hike a new path with him—an old trail he'd been restoring himself. It led high up into the mountains, through narrow ridges, blooming wildflowers, and old stone arches carved with symbols of the old tribes.

As dusk fell, you reached a cliff overlooking the vast wildlands. The stars began to prick the sky, and the moon rose—huge, luminous, casting a silver sheen over everything.

Jack turned to you, looking breathtaking in the moonlight. His hair fluttered with the wind, his tail stilling behind him.

“I always thought I was meant to walk alone,” he said, voice deep and honest. “Wolves don’t… usually need packs like others do. I was okay with solitude. But then I met you. And suddenly... it wasn’t enough anymore. Every mountain felt lonelier without you by my side.”

You stepped closer, heart pounding.

“I wanted to bring you here because this is where I made my decision,” he said, kneeling in the grass. From a small leather pouch around his neck, he retrieved a ring—hand-forged from stone and silver, with a single small diamond embedded in its center.

“It’s not fancy. It’s not perfect. But it’s strong. Like my feelings for you. I don’t want a ceremony or attention—I just want you. Always. Will you be my mate, for life?”

Tears slid silently down your cheeks. Jack’s hands were warm as he took yours, and his eyes—usually so intense—were soft, vulnerable.

You knelt with him, pressing your forehead to his. “Yes,” you whispered.

He exhaled, tail flicking once with relief, then pulled you into a tight, protective embrace—one that said “home” more than any place ever had.

And above, the stars bore witness, as the wild and the heart became one.

Jade Leech

With Jade, your relationship was anything but ordinary. From the beginning, he had been a puzzle wrapped in a smile—dangerous in his elegance, but mesmerizing. Over time, behind his teasing words and cryptic looks, you found a man who was curious about love, who had never quite known how tender a connection could feel until you came into his life.

After graduation, Jade returned to the Coral Sea, taking on a diplomatic role that let him travel between land and ocean. He’d often bring you rare mushrooms from distant forests, small ocean treasures, and letters written in his perfect, flowing script—always sealed with wax, always smelling faintly of salt and ink.

One day, he invited you on a private excursion—“an adventure,” he called it, voice light and playful. He guided you to a secluded sea cave he’d discovered, hidden behind a curtain of kelp off the southern coast. The tide was low when you arrived, and as the sunlight filtered through the surface, the cave glimmered like a cathedral carved by the ocean itself. Bioluminescent moss clung to the rocks, glowing faintly blue, and tide pools sparkled with tiny sea creatures.

Jade turned to you, hands behind his back, smiling just slightly.

“You once told me you wanted to see the place where I felt most like myself,” he said. “This is it. This place is both wild and calm… like you make me feel.”

You blinked, overwhelmed by the beauty—and the fact that he’d remembered such a small, passing thing.

He led you deeper into the cave, to a small flat rock that overlooked an underground pool glowing with a soft, enchanted light. There, nestled in a tide-smoothed shell, was a ring: a unique band shaped from coral and white gold, with a pearl set in its center—glimmering with the faintest swirl of blue, like moonlight trapped in water.

Jade took your hand gently, his expression uncharacteristically sincere.

“I’ve watched the tides change, the reefs grow and crumble, the land erode and form again… And still, I’ve never seen anything so constant as the way I feel when I look at you. Curious. Grounded. At peace.”

He dropped to one knee on the glistening cave floor.

“I don’t pretend to be simple, and I cannot promise calm waters every day. But I can promise loyalty, wonder, and a love as deep and eternal as the sea. Will you marry me?”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks as you whispered yes.

He kissed your hand, slipping the ring onto your finger as waves echoed softly in the background. Then he stood, pulling you into a slow, wordless embrace as the ocean whispered around you, forever holding the secret of the moment it witnessed two souls choosing each other.

Jamil Viper

Falling for Jamil was like watching a guarded temple open its doors to you alone.

He was a man who had always lived in someone else’s shadow, who had learned to survive by hiding—his talents, his feelings, his dreams. But with you… he had finally started living for himself. And slowly, impossibly, he had allowed love to bloom—quietly, steadily, like a candle that refused to be extinguished no matter how many times the wind tried.

After years of study and work, Jamil had become a renowned performer and choreographer across the Scalding Sands and beyond. He was known for his breathtaking dance performances, his fire magic, and his unspoken magnetism. But despite the crowds and praise, he always made time for you—stealing away into the desert, where the stars were so thick they felt like they might fall.

One evening, Jamil asked you to accompany him to a rooftop performance in a palace overlooking the oasis. You assumed it was one of his shows, but when you arrived, the space was empty—just open air, flowing curtains, and a circle of candles laid out in a ring of red and gold petals. A lone tabla played softly from somewhere unseen.

“Jamil…?” you asked, bewildered.

He stepped into the candlelit ring wearing his traditional red and black, but tonight, his expression was more vulnerable than you had ever seen. No mask. No tension.

“I choreographed something,” he said softly, reaching for your hand. “Just for you. And me.”

Then, without further word, he began to dance.

It was a solo piece of story and soul—a blend of fire and emotion. His movements told the tale of a boy trapped in chains of duty, eyes always cast down… until a figure of light walked into his life. His steps became bolder, freer, as if each moment with you was releasing him, piece by piece. And at the end, as the final flame circled him, he dropped to one knee, his hand extended to you.

In his palm sat a ring—ornate and beautiful, inlaid with rubies and obsidian, shaped like a coiled serpent guarding a heart.

“I never imagined someone would love all of me,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Not just the dancer, not just the servant or the schemer. Me. And now that I’ve felt that love… I can’t go back.”

He looked up, his dark eyes glimmering with a fire only you had ever truly seen.

“I want to build a future not in someone else’s shadow… but in our own light. With you. Will you marry me?”

You fell to your knees before him, nodding through your tears. He reached for you, holding you close as music, fire, and moonlight danced around your entwined forms.

The desert winds whispered over the rooftop, carrying the beginning of your shared forever across the sands.

Epel Felmier

It was springtime in Harveston, and the apple trees were in full bloom.

The countryside stretched out in a watercolor of soft pink petals, dew-frosted green grass, and gentle sunshine. You had come with Epel to visit his family for the season — partly for the festival, partly for a bit of a break from the whirlwind of NRC. Epel had insisted on showing you his "secret spot," a place hidden at the edge of his family’s orchard where the trees grew in wild, enchanted arches.

He led you there barefoot, the grass cool underfoot, laughing at the way your fingers intertwined. He looked so at peace here — freckles glowing, violet eyes warm like dusk skies, his country drawl a soft hum as he told you stories about when he used to climb these trees as a boy.

But today, something was different.

“I gotta confess something,” he said suddenly, his voice a little hoarse. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I’ve been wantin’ to ask ya somethin’... for a long while now.”

Before you could respond, he pulled out something wrapped in a handkerchief from his coat. He unwrapped it slowly: a ring made of braided silver and rose gold, shaped like twisted vines, holding a pale lavender gem — the exact color of his eyes. Handmade, by the local artisan. With love. With care.

Epel dropped to one knee in the soft grass, right beneath the blooming apple trees.

“I know I ain’t always perfect. I get worked up tryin’ to prove myself, ‘specially around people who don’t think I’m strong just ‘cause of how I look. But you... you see me. The real me. You’ve always made me feel like I ain’t gotta try so hard just to be loved.”

The petals were falling around you both like snow.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Laughin’ with you, growin’ with you, maybe even raisin’ a family out here someday, in a house by this orchard. Will ya marry me?”

His voice cracked slightly on the last line, and his hand trembled just enough to betray how hard he was trying to be composed.

You said yes. Of course you did.

And as you kissed him under a sky of blossoms and sunlight, he whispered against your lips, “I’ll love you ‘til the apples stop growin’, and even after that.”

Silver

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the forest in golds and violets.

Silver had taken you to a quiet glade near the edge of Briar Valley — a place that few people knew about, where the trees whispered in ancient tongues and the breeze always seemed to hum lullabies. He had told you it was where he used to go to clear his mind, to think, to dream.

You both sat together on a blanket beneath a canopy of willow trees, surrounded by flickering fae lights that blinked in and out of existence like stars caught between realities.

“Do you know what I used to dream about before I met you?” he asked, voice low and soft, brushing a strand of your hair from your face.

You looked up into those calm, silvery eyes. “Tell me.”

“I dreamed of peace. Of stillness. Of finding a place — or a person — where I could let go. Where I didn’t have to always be ready to protect or to run. I thought it was just a fantasy. But then I met you.”

He took a small wooden box from his side — carved with delicate forest motifs, glowing faintly with magic. Inside, nestled in velvet moss, was a ring of moonstone and silver filigree, shaped like blooming lilies and crescent moons. Ancient enchantments laced it: protection, clarity, love everlasting.

Silver knelt, but not awkwardly or with nerves. No — he knelt with reverence, like a knight before a queen.

“I’ve spent my life dreaming with my eyes closed. But with you... I dream while I’m awake. You’re my dawn after centuries of night. Will you marry me, and walk through all the dreams and waking days to come — with me?”

You felt tears rise unbidden, your heart aching with the beauty of it. The way he looked at you — steady, unshakable, serene — it was like every fairytale you had ever read but more real, more raw.

When you said yes, he smiled — that quiet, rare smile he saved only for you.

Then he held you in his arms as the stars lit one by one, and you knew — truly knew — that you were his peace, and he was yours.

⟡ tag list : @dreaming-of-tae @chai-yas @yunar1 @fever-en @sol3chu @alastor-simp

[rafessecret]

Hello can I please request something, idk if you’ve ever seen this trend going on, on TikTok, but basically you call ur bf ur current boyfriend and I thought reader and rafe would be perfect and he’d probably flip out😭

⋆˚࿔ influencer¡ reader && rafe cameron

YOUR CURRENT BOYFRIEND?

You’re a small lifestyle influencer with soft aesthetics, dreamy editing, lots of pink and sparkles. Your feed is full of matcha lattes, dainty outfits, and cosy apartment corners. Sunlight always seems to hit just right in your photos. Your videos are delicate, slow, and perfectly colour-graded. Every so often, your followers catch glimpses of him—Rafe Cameron. Tall, smug, and inexplicably hot even in the background of your pastel world.

Today, you’re filming a baking vlog. Your kitchen glows with golden-hour light. Soft jazz plays in the background. You’ve set your phone up on a little tripod, angled just so, capturing the pale-pink mixing bowls and your collection of pastel spatulas. There are flower-shaped sugar cookies laid out like a Pinterest board and a neat row of pastel icing bags ready for decorating.

Rafe’s here too. You didn’t plan for him to be there; he just showed up after your text about needing powdered sugar. Now he’s behind you, sleeves rolled up, acting like this is his production. He keeps stealing bites of cookie dough, licking icing off his fingers in exaggerated slow motion, and making you laugh so much you can barely pipe your designs.

You nudge him with your hip. ❝Stop eating them!❞ He grins, smug. ❝You want it to taste good, don’t you? Gotta check. Quality control.❞ You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. He’s so annoyingly handsome��tattoos peeking from under the sleeves of his white tee, hair pushed back, gold chain catching the light. And he’s doing that thing where he hovers close but pretends not to. Like you don’t feel his breath on your neck when you lean over the counter.

Finally, after frosting a few cookies and playfully scolding Rafe a dozen times, you face the camera. You’re glowing, cheeks pink, hair clipped back with your favourite satin bow. You smile sweetly, your voice sugary and cute. ❝Today I’m with my current boyfriend,❞ you say. It’s instant. Rafe freezes. His eyes lift from where he’s licking icing off his thumb—slow and deadly. He stares at you, completely still. ❝Current?❞ he says, voice flat, sharp with disbelief.

You keep your smile, innocent as ever. ❝He’s cute, right? But I’m not sure how long he’s going to last.❞ ❝What the fuck is that supposed to mean?❞ he asks, standing upright, tension already bristling through him. You pipe another swirl on a sugar cookie like nothing’s wrong. ❝I dunno… just seeing where things go.❞ Rafe blinks. His jaw tightens. His mouth opens like he’s about to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s too stunned, too pissed to even blink. Then it registers fully—what you said—and his face darkens.

❝You’re seeing where things go?❞ he repeats slowly, like the words are acid in his mouth. You bite your lip, trying not to crack. ❝Mhm. He’s sweet… but we’ll see.❞ You flutter your lashes toward the camera, still filming. ❝Let me know what you guys think.❞ That’s it. Rafe slams his hand down on the counter, making the bowls clatter. He starts rounding it slowly, eyes locked on yours, gait full of menace. ❝You think you’re funny?❞ he mutters, voice low and warning. ❝You think you can call me your current boyfriend like I’m a placeholder?❞

You keep backing up, still in frame, lips twitching. ❝Rafe, it’s just a trend—❞ ❝No, no. Keep going. Keep posting that shit. I want to see who thinks you’re up for grabs. Who thinks you’re looking for someone else? ❞ He crowds you against the counter, chest flush to your back, hands gripping your waist with purpose now—possessive, tight, like he’s physically holding back the storm. ❝I swear to God, baby,❞ he whispers hot against your ear. ❝Say that one more time. Call me your temporary boyfriend again. I fucking dare you.❞

You break, breathless with laughter. ❝Okay! Okay, it’s a trend! A TikTok trend, Rafe. Everyone’s doing it!❞ He doesn’t budge. Still tense, still breathing hard, still gripping you like someone might steal you if he lets go. ❝Not everyone has you. That shit’s not funny. Not when you’re mine.❞ You turn, wrapping your arms around his neck, still giggling. ❝You were so mad, oh my god. You looked like you were going to break the counter.❞ He glares down at you, jaw ticking. But there’s the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, a crack in his fury. ❝You’re lucky you’re cute. Lucky I like you enough to keep you.❞

❝So I’m not temporary?❞ you tease, nose brushing his. ❝Say that again, and I’ll make sure you can’t walk straight for a week.❞ Your giggle bubbles up again as you lean in and kiss his cheek, leaving a pink frosting smudge behind. Rafe doesn't move. He just watches you with those dangerous eyes like he’s already planning his revenge—and you already know he’s not going to wait until the cookies are done.

Trend: conquered. Rafe: feral. You: smug.

And your comments? Already blowing up with:

“HE LOOKS SO MAD 😭😭” “The way he turned around 😭 protect her at all costs.” “Idk who he is, but I NEED him.” “he’s about to throw hands with the camera”

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : ahhh tysm for this request, seriously. i always struggle turning trends into little fics, so i hope this one’s okay. i almost made him sweeter… but let’s be real, rafe wouldn’t have taken it well if his precious little doll said something like that for everyone to hear. posting this quick before the trend disappears and i miss it completely lol

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire @browniepop62 @urcoolgf @folksriddle

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

[writingsbytee]

HIDDEN PT. 2

TERRY RICHMOND x BLACK FEM READER

WARNINGS / TRIGGERS: SFW; minors do not interact; mentions of domestic violence; self-hate; angst; Terry is hard to read in the beginning.

SUMMARY: You’ve been working at Terry’s club for about a week now and you’re finally getting the hang of things. There might be a little jealous Terry in here if you squint. This “chapter” might be dialogue heavy. No Smut (yet!)

TROPES: grumpy x sunshine ; “touch her and die”; slow burn; 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Okaaay!! Part 2 is now available!! I hope you guys enjoy it. I’m really trying to work on my dialogue skills and some world building so bare with me. The SMUT will come soon, I just want you guys to get to know my version of Terry and Daphne.

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

PREVIOUSLY ON HIDDEN: 1

DAPHNE

“Girl! I see why you never left this job! The tips alone are enough to cover rent this month,” I said looking at the wad I already had in my mini apron. 

Lexi nodded, “See, what did I say? You won’t have to go back to the hospital for a while.” I contemplated the idea, sure the break from the physically, mentally, and emotionally draining job is nice. But, helping people, caring for them, that’s my passion. I’ll go back when I’m ready. As I wait for Lexi to make the next round of drinks for the police commissioner’s table, I turn and take in my surroundings.

The club is so unique. With a sunken lounge area and the circular light fixtures it almost has a 60s vibe. But with the seductive lighting and R&B playing it feels like a jazz club. Lexi slides the finished tray of drinks my way and I head towards the commissioner’s table. 

“Our favorite girl is back!” one of them shouted. They were all very close to being drunk, the drinks in my hand should do the job. 

“That’s me!” I said with my million dollar smile. I could already tell what kind of men I was dealing with, pretty boys who never heard the word ‘no’. I place all their drinks down and ask them if there’s anything else I can get them. 

“Aww c’mon leaving so soon? Stay and chat with us for a little while,” one of the men said. I huffed out a fake laugh, “I wish, but I’ve got to finish up my training”. They all boo’d in protest, but I just shrugged my shoulders and backed away. Breathing a sigh of relief I make my way back towards Lexi.

“Ouu girl, they like you,” she said laughing at me, 

I rolled my eyes, “I don’t wanna hear shit when the car is gassed up and the fridge is full. If they keep tipping me like this they can like me all they want,” i said cleaning off the counter. The lights started to dim as someone walked on stage. Out of my periferie I see Terry’s office door open. 

“Oop there go your man,” Lexi whispers in my direction. I huff out an annoyed breath, “Stop calling him that! What if someone hears you!” I whisper-shout, throwing my rag at her. Okay, so I might've developed a teeny-tiny crush on Terry. I don’t know how anyone can look at that man and not get swept up in his beauty. I keep it professional obviously, and it’s not even like he notices. Terry’s barely said two words to me since I started here. I sneak a peek at Terry over my shoulder and I feel my canine sink into my lower lip as I take in his attire.  

Dressed in a simple black long sleeve and matching black cargos and timberland boots. With the gold mini cuban link chain and glasses to top the look off, he’s any woman’s wet dream.

“Damn, Daphne could you be any more obvious?” Lexi asked, laughing at me. 

“Oh, shut up! Look at him, he’s too fine for his own good” I whisper, turning back toward my sister. I feel like a high school girl with a crush. I need to get a grip, fast. I grabbed the ice bucket, heading to the back to fill it up. I need to put some distance between myself and the green-eyed giant. I’ve only been working here about a week and I feel like I’m finally getting a hang of things. I bring the ice out and make my way over to my side of the bar. 

Eli, the police commissioner’s son, has become one of my regulars. After his dad leaves Eli usually stays to hit on whoever is within earshot. Tonight it looks like that’s me, “There she is!” he shouted, eyes low in his liquor induced haze. 

“Someone needs to get cut off I see,” I say, chuckling at Eli’s dopey grin. He groans, “Aww c’mon baaaby. Don’t b-be like that.” Eli reaches for my hand to grab my attention. Before he could open his mouth, the deep, sexy voice of my boss cuts him off.

“Eli quit harassing my staff before I cut you off,” Terry says, sliding into the seat next to Eli. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it T-man! It’s allllll good,” Eli said, his words starting to blend together.

“Annnd, you’re cut off. Eli give me your phone so I can get you an Uber,”I say, making grabby hands at Eli. He smirks peering over at Terry who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “See, told you she wanted me,” he said, nudging his elbow into Terry’s ribs. I roll my eyes not wanting to satisfy him with a response. Eli’s cute, don't get me wrong, but I’m just not interested.

“Actually someone’s coming to relieve you Daphne, I need you in the back,” Terry says leaning up on the counter. My eyes widened as I looked over at Terry. He just smirks and nods his head toward the door marked ‘employees only’. I nod before wiping my hands off on my pants and head towards that door. I glance over my shoulder to see Terry whisper something in Eli’s ear before he makes his way toward me. 

“Ready for your first assignment?” Terry asks as he makes his way to me. 

A dry chuckle leaves my mouth, “Will it be worse than that?” I ask, pointing my thumb in Eli’s direction. 

Terry’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter, “I hope not, here, c’mon they’re right through here”

I knew Terry was serious about using my medical side to help him out, I just didn’t think it’d be so soon. My mind blanks as I try to shift my focus to that of a 3 year trauma/ICU nurse. Not knowing what I’m walking into I take off my rings and bracelets as we enter the door. Terry leads me down what appears to be basement stairs and then leads me to another door. Before we go in he turns to me standing shoulder-width apart with his hands crossed in his front (REFERENCE).

s it just me or did it get ten degrees hotter in here?

“This kind of goes without saying but, you don’t say anything about what goes on behind this door,” Terry said.

With a nod of my head I say, “Of course not, now let’s see what I’ve gotten myself into yea?”

TERRY

“Gunshot wounds!? Terry, what do you expect me to do with this?!” Daphne asked, examining the semi-conscious man laying on the table. I watched carefully as she threw her locs up in a messy bun and went to work on her “patient”.

“They’re just flesh wounds, mostly just need patching up. You can do that right sweetheart?” I ask leaning back against the door. She rolls her eyes and mumbles out a ‘yeah’. That eye rolling shit is really starting to get on my nerves with how much it turns me on. 

“What kind of supplies do you have?” She asks looking over at me. 

I move to a storage closet on my right and open the door for her, “In here is everything you should need.”  I grab a cart containing multiple drawers with the supplies she might need (reference). Once I wheel it over to her she pauses and looks at the cart then me. 

“This is a hospital grade crash cart,” Daphne said, raising a brow at me. Damn, she’s pretty when she does that too. 

I nod slowly, “Yes, yes it is. I figured how can I ask you to do a job without the proper equipment.”

She lets out a disbelieving chuckle, “How’d you get all this? And can you get it restocked when I’m done with him?”

“Well I can’t really tell you how I got everything, let’s just say everything has its price. I’ll have it restocked before you have to do this again”, I say. 

Daphne just nods and takes a deep breath before heading to the sink, “Well, I’m going to need an extra hand in here. Do you have time or can you send someone else in here?”

“I’ll stay,” I reply with a shrug. She flashes me a small smile before instructing me to wash my hands in the sink. Once I finish I saddle up beside her and wait for instructions. Daphne hands me a pair of gloves instructing me to put them on. 

“Do you have any medical training?”Daphne asks as she puts a stethoscope to Paul’s (gunshot victim) chest. 

“Basic CPR and some shit I had to do in the field,” I say checking Paul’s heart rate 

“What branch?” 

“Who said I was military?” I ask, smirking at her. 

“Terry, be serious, look at how you stand, how you always sit facing the door, and how you talk. Let’s just say it wasn’t that hard for me to tell. Hand me that syringe that says ‘Morphine’ please,” she smiled at me sweetly, pointing at the aforementioned syringe.

I feel my smirk widen against my will, “You’ve been watching me?” I ask, passing her the syringe. 

She rolls her eyes yet again, “Oh don’t flatter yourself. I spent over a decade in healthcare. 25% of those people are from military backgrounds.” 

“So who was it? Mom or Dad?” I ask, holding pressure on Paul’s wound while she places an IV. 

“Huh?”, she asks, not looking up from her task. I can admire the way her nose scrunches and she bites her lip as she works through her task.

“Who was in the military? Your mom or your Dad?” I ask again. 

Daph lets out a small giggle, “What gave it away?” 

I clear my throat and her eyes meet mine. I move my index finger back and forth pointing at me then her, “Same recognizes same, sweetheart.” She huffs out another small laugh before focusing back in. I’m thinking of one thing and one thing only as we work in comfortable silence, patching Paul up. I need to make her laugh again. 

“My mom, she was in the Navy. She was the best,”I say reaching for my locket that had her picture in it. 

Terry nods before looking at me, “I’m sure she was sweetheart. I’m sorry you lost her so soon”. He’s got the prettiest eyes. They’re so expressive I feel like he’s saying more to me with just a look than he ever could with words. 

2.5 HOURS LATER

DAPHNE

When Terry and I exit the basement his club is empty.  “That was good work in there Daph,” Terry said, eyeing me appreciatively. 

“Well it was a simple plug and patch like you said, you probably could’ve done it,” I say, rubbing my hand against the back of my neck. 

Terry takes a step toward me, “You sore?”

“Yeah a tiny bit, it’s been a while since I had to do that. I’ll be fine,” I say, straightening my spine and shifting my hips from side to side. 

“Here let me,” Terry moved behind me, placing his hands at the base of my neck. My spine straightened like a stick was shoved straight up my ass. He starts to knead the stiff muscles in my neck and I feel my shoulders start to slump. He continues to knead and massage the back of my neck. I don’t even notice that I’m leaning back against him.

“Mmm that feels nice,” I say, leaning my hand to the side. He’s so close I can feel his exhale against my neck, I know he can see the goosebumps. 

“Yeah?” he says. I don’t know if I’m imagining it or not but it feels like his lips brush my neck. Before I can say anything else, there’s a knock on the door. I can feel Terry tense up behind me, like somebody poured a bucket of ice water down his back.  

“Go to the back, get your stuff, and leave,” Terry said, taking a step back from me like I burned him. My mind was reeling, I just silently nodded and turned to make my way back to the locker room. Who was at the door that made him shift his whole persona? I’m putting all my shit in my tote back when I hear my phone ring from somewhere inside it. Once I find it I tap the green button putting the phone up to my ear.

“Hey Lex, I’m about to leave now,” I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder. 

“Perfect, I got a ride from Princess. I put my keys in your coat pocket so you wouldn’t have to Uber by yourself this late,” my oh so considerate sister says. 

“You’re too good to me. Dinner on me tomorrow, “ I say, finding the keys she mentioned. Lexi and I yap for a few minutes before we say our goodbyes. Leaving the locker room I bump right into Terry.

“Oh! Sorry didn’t see you there,” I hate how awkward and strained my voice sounds. Terry’s eyes are unreadable as he looks through me. 

“Time to go, I’ll walk you out,” he said then abruptly turned and started down the hallway. 

“What the fuck?” I mumble to myself. I know we aren’t best friends or anything, but I thought that Terry and I were at least breaking down that wall ‘boss/ employee’ relationship between us. I thought we could at least have some sort of civility toward one another. I follow him out towards the main floor of the club and make my way towards the door. There’s a group of men sitting in the center of the club, they all look hella shady. I pick up my pace a little bit so I can get the hell out of there. 

“Daphne?,” I hear as I walk past the table. I look up toward the voice and my blood runs cold. What the fuck is Rafa’s brother doing here?

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  okay, okay. I know this one is short but the next one will be longer I promise. I kind of just wanted to focus on a little bit of character building because this is going to be a series. Let me know what you guys think! 

TAGLIST: 

@blackgurlnhermoods @dxddykenn @kianaleani @pinkkycherrish @shallipii @greatpandagladiator-blog @skyesthebomb @gg-trini @megamindsecretlair @melalsworld @nayaesworld @theereina @shallipii @mogul93 @onherereading @blyffe @earthchica @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @kimuzostar @pocketsizedpanther @kumkaniudaku @mymindisneverhere @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @uzumaki-rebellion

DIVIDER: @cxrrodedcoffin

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Dangerous Dreams

Written for round 1 of the @steddiebingo and for week 1 of @steddiesportsau

Prompts: Hurt/Comfort | Olympic Sports

Words: 2,023 [also on AO3]

Rated: T

Tags: Figure skater Eddie; Coach Steve; Past Stancy; Injury; Sexual tension

Notes: Prequel to this one

It’s long past dark by the time Steve walks Nancy to her car. They're the last ones to leave the rink as usual, all of the other athletes and coaches long gone. Some things never change, he guesses.

“You really don’t have to do this,” she says, eyeing the bag with her clothes and skates that he has slung over one shoulder. “People will jump to conclusions if they see us together like this.” 

Steve huffs, opening the trunk and throwing the bag inside. 

“Like what, that we’re dating again? I’m your coach, aren’t I? I’m allowed to look after my athletes.” 

She shrugs, playing with a strand that has escaped from the updo she has thrown her hair into for practice. 

“That’s not how the tabloids are going to see it and you know it.” 

“Yeah, well,” he smiles drily. “Let them think what they want. I don’t care about their opinion.” 

She raises her brows at him, fumbling in her jacket pocket for her keys. 

“Oh, yes? What about the opinion of a certain loud-mouthed, curly-haired figure skating prodigy?” 

He sputters. 

“I don't- … What? No! He's a pain in the- I mean … who are you even talking about?” 

As she slides into the driver's seat, she gives him a look. 

“You know exactly who I'm talking about. And I suggest you get it sorted out before the Olympics, one way or another. We'll all need a clear head for the competitions.” 

Steve watches her tail lights grow smaller, wondering how she still manages to see right through him. It's another thing that'll never change, he guesses.

*

If he decides to do a final round of the premises before going home, it's solely to make sure all of the doors are locked, and not because he needs to clear his head. The rink lies in darkness, bar for the neon lights over the emergency exits that never go out. It makes the ice glitter invitingly, and before he knows it, he is standing at its edge, clutching the banister. 

He knows he shouldn't. 

There's nobody around to help him if he falls. It's crazy and stupid and reckless, and he should know better. 

But the white, glistening surface is whispering his name, and his muscles are aching for the familiar movements and his blood is longing for the thrill of the speed and the spins and the leaps. 

He'll only do a few rounds. 

*

The blades glide over the ice like an extension of his legs, the rest of his limbs flowing into movement on muscle memory alone. He skates along the outer barrier of the rink in a wide circle, then another, picking up speed as he gets more confident and the initial tension leaves him. 

He's been missing this. 

It feels like coming home. 

He turns, gliding backwards for a few yards, then twists again, lifting the bad leg off the ground and extending it behind himself in an elegant arch, using the momentum of it to spin into a slow spiral. It's nothing like what he used to be able to do, nowhere close to the routine that was supposed to win him his third gold medal, but with the empty hall blurring out of focus and the rush of speed in his veins, it's easy to remember. The spotlights shining down on him, bright and hot. The murmur of the crowd in the stands disappearing under the music blasting from the speakers. A hundred cameras gleaming and flashing all around him, every single one trained on him as the world watches him defy gravity, holding its breath as he prepares to leap. 

He jumps. 

It feels like flying, like soaring. Like coming home. 

And then gravity sets back in and all he remembers is pain. 

He knows that it'll go wrong the second his blade connects with the ice, just like he knew four years ago. His ankle gives out like a twig, pain zapping all the way into his teeth. He tries to control the fall as he goes down, bringing up his arms to protect his head, angling himself so that he won't crush the bad leg with his own weight. And then his hip hits the ice and everything turns into a blur of pain. 

Even after the world stops spinning, he keeps lying with his arms shielding his face, waiting for ringing in his ears to die down and for the sting behind his eyelids to go away. 

It's easy to remember. 

The music grinding to a stop. The alarmed murmurs picking up from the stands. Nancy and their coach rushing to his side, frantically calling for the medics. The goddamn cameras still running, eager for a glimpse of his pain and humiliation as the double gold medal winner lay in a crumpled heap on the ice. 

He's an idiot. He should've known better than to try again. At least, this time, there's nobody around to see him. 

“Shit, man. Are you alright?” 

Steve freezes. Suddenly, he's hyper-aware of every tiny detail of his surroundings. The cold of the rink bleeding into his back. The heat of his own sweat drying on his skin. The burning pain in his ankle and hip and shoulders where he tumbled over the ice. When he drops his arm from his face, his vision is still blurry, but it doesn’t matter. He'd know those stupid, expressive doe eyes looking down on him everywhere. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he croaks, sitting up and running a trembling hand through his hair to check for head injuries. 

“Arriving just in time to watch you eat dirt, apparently,” Eddie says. “Or ice. No need to thank me. I'm also glad I'm around to make sure you don't bleed out or choke on your own tongue, or- hey, careful now.” 

Steve, who is just hoisting himself upright, clinging to the banister for support, swats off the hand that reaches out to steady him. 

“Leave me alone, I don't need your- ah, fuck.” 

The twisted ankle gives out the second he tries to put weight on it, and Steve grits his teeth through the fresh surge of pain. By the time the white lights bursting across his vision fade, Eddie’s hand is on his elbow again.

“Sure you don't, big boy. Now c'mon, let's get you looked at.” 

This time, Steve doesn’t protest as Eddie guides him off the ice. 

*

“What are you doing here?” he asks again, once they have made it to his office - Steve's arm slung over Eddie's shoulder - and he's safely seated in his desk chair. 

Eddie, who has his back turned and is rifling through the freezer for an ice pack, shrugs, but Steve sees the way his shoulders go tense. 

“Just dropped by to pick up my wallet. Must've left it in the locker room earlier.” 

Steve gives him a look. “Your wallet. Really.” 

“Yup,” Eddie replies cheerfully. Like Steve can't see the cut-off shirt and skin-tight leggings under his leather jacket. Like Steve won’t notice that he isn’t wearing any of his usual jewelry, except for the delicate ring with the stone - the one he never takes off, not even on the ice. “Now hold still, this is gonna hurt.”

Before Steve can protest or brace himself, he has dropped to his knees and pulled the injured foot into his lap. Steve hisses as nimble fingers push up the hem of his pants, prodding at his ankle. 

“Already bruising,” Eddie mutters. His head is bowed, and his hair is in a high ponytail, leaving the long, pale curve of his neck exposed. “Doesn’t look broken to me, but I’m not a doctor. You want me to call Robin or-” 

“God, no,” Steve groans. “She’d behead me with my own skates.” 

Eddie snorts a laugh and presses the ice pack to the tender, purpling skin. A few seconds pass in silence while Steve curls his fingers into the chair and waits for the worst of the sting to settle. 

“It’s not broken,” he finally mutters, when the quiet gets too heavy and oppressive. “I know what a broken ankle feels like, and this is nowhere close.”

Eddie doesn’t answer, just hums - a vague noise that could be anything from agreement to doubt. His fingers graze Steve’s ankle as he adjusts his grip on the ice pack. 

“It was a shame that happened,” he says instead. “You were a fucking legend, man. You oughta have won that medal. It was what you deserved.”

Steve feels himself flush. He half expects Eddie to follow the remark with one of his usual quips or jabs, but his eyes are nothing but serious as he looks up. The air in the office seems too thick all of a sudden. 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “Life isn't fair, sometimes.” 

Eddie smiles sadly. 

“I guess it isn't,” he agrees. Then he pauses. Licks his lips. “You ever considered getting back into it?” 

“Huh?” Steve, momentarily distracted by the light sheen of moisture on Eddie’s lips, startles. “What, at my age, and with that injury? Forget it. I'll never be able to skate in competitions again, I wouldn't stand a-” 

“I wasn't talking about competitions,” Eddie says. “Just … for fun. I dunno, but … that jump? I think that was the happiest I ever saw you just now.”

Steve snorts a humourless laugh, ignoring the painful twang in his chest. “Until I brained myself on the ice, you mean.” 

Eddie shrugs. “What's life without a little risk? Playing it safe may keep you from getting hurt, but sometimes you gotta fall before you can fly.” 

Steve is just about to ask what motivational poster he pulled that bit of wisdom from when Eddie removes the ice pack and climbs to his feet. 

“Now, you need a ride home, or-” 

“I can drive,” he blurts, hurriedly suppressing the mental image of himself riding passenger princess-style on that black monster of a motorcycle that Eddie insists on driving. He still accepts the offered hand and allows Eddie to hover by his side as they make their way to the parking lot. 

They're almost at the car when Eddie speaks again. 

“So … about my routine.” 

“No,” Steve says. Eddie groans and throws up his hands. 

“I didn't even say what I wanted!” 

Steve yanks open the driver's door, throwing himself into the seat and suppressing a wince when his ankle protests. 

“I'm taking a wild guess. We've been over this before, Eddie. You're not picking a metal song for an Olympic skating routine.” 

Eddie's mouth does the twitchy thing that means he's consciously holding himself back from saying something stupid. 

“You said to pick something that speaks to us, so that we can deliver our best possible performance. This speaks to me. I don't understand why-” 

“Because,” Steve interrupts him, “it will speak to literally nobody else. “Have you for a second considered what the jury will think?” 

There's more on the tip of his tongue. How Eddie is a once-in-a-lifetime talent. How he has seen him do things on those skates he never thought possible. How he'll go on to be far greater than Steve ever was, and could ever have hoped to become, if only he can get that goddamn ego in check. 

He doesn't say any of that, though.

“I'm not letting you ruin this for yourself,” is what he does say. “It's too risky, and that's my final word.” 

Eddie’s face twitches again. When it settles, his smile is all teeth.

“Of course,” he mutters. “You would know all about risks, wouldn’t you?” 

It lands harder than it has any right to and the pain in his ankle, which had only just calmed down, suddenly feels sharp again. 

“Eddie, listen,” he says, but Eddie has already turned and is walking towards his motorcycle, which is parked a little way off. 

“No need, you've made your point clear. We better both head home. See you tomorrow, coach.” 

Steve sits in his dark car long after Eddie has disappeared into the night, thinking about risks and choices and the contempt in those dark, pretty eyes. 

More Steddie Bingo

[cheriladycl01]

Surrounded by Ice - Kimi Raikkonen x FigureSkater! Reader

Plot: The Iceman just surrounds himself with Ice in every aspect of his life

A/N: Just a short little Kimi drabble, more exciting stuff coming soon, just been swamped with Uni!

Credit to summerblueringo for the GIF

"How does it feel to bring home a gold medal for your country, again?" the interviewer asks and a big grin appears on your face.

"I mean, i love the sport and I've worked hard to get where I am. I think this year there were many other contestants who also deserved gold and everyone who took part today were amazing!" you keep smiling, it had been a really amazing set for you today. You'd even broke some records while here.

"And now what is your plan?" they ask holding the mic closer to you.

"Well my husband is waiting for me, just over there. So i think he wants to give me his congratulations" you say pointing out our stoic looking husband who was waiting in the background, keeping to himself watching the world go past.

"Ah yes, Kimi Raikkonen! The Ice Man, who arguably married Queen of the Ice" he jokes making you laugh a little. You had heard similar jokes many times since you'd married Kimi.

"Yes, obviously being here in South Korea for the Winter Olympics has been amazing, and I'll be sure to train hard for 2022 but now I'm needed to go support my lovely lovely husband in his fast cars" you exclaim, knowing that the Australian Grand Prix was round the corner.

"Ah yes, it's looking like a good season for Ferrari! And we can tell from your outfit today they already have your support"

"My support is for whatever team my husband is in, so Ferrari have had my support since Kimi has raced with them!"

You left the interview thanking your team before finding Kimi waiting for you quietly.

"Home?" you ask and he nods silently grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the arena.

"You were fantastic today!" he smiles, holding you and pulling you into a kiss.

"Yeah? You liked the new twist i did?" you ask, your routine today being one of the hardest you'd ever done. You mascara had infact started to run, from the sweat building on your forehead throughout the day.

"I like everything you do"

You guys both went back to the hotel, packing up all of your gear that had been here for the past month you'd stayed in Korea for. Once you were sure you hadn't left anything behind you made your way to the airport.

Kimi now only had a month until Australia, his personal trainer had come with you to Korea to help him train while he was out there supporting you.

Now, you'd train while you were travelling with Kimi. Finding ice while on the road with him was always difficult, but finding places to just work out and keep your fitness up was never hard as you'd train alongside Kimi. It was one of the ways to spend extra time with him during the season when he was most busy.

In the free month before Australia you started your research on where you could go in Melbourne to skate, you found somewhere that Kimi was happy with you going too as it wasn't too far from the hotel you'd be staying in or the race track for if anything went wrong.

"Will you watch me on the Sunday though?" he'd asked you as you were both lying in bed the night before you were due to fly to Australia.

"When have I ever not?" you ask, turning over in bed to look at him.

"Hmmm, I can for sure think of one time..." he smirks looking over you.

"If your talking about China, almost 10 years ago that doesn't even count!" you laugh, poking his cheek a little.

Your husband never failed to amaze you, his striking blue eyes and his soft blonde hair was what initially drew you in. But it was your first interaction with him that made you fall for him fully.

It was the Autumn of 2008 and you were 22 and you had just won your second Gold Medal in China, you'd stayed there for the months after the games as they left the Beijing Olympic Park open and it seemed like a good place to stay and to train.

You managed to get tickets to other sporting events in the months you stayed there such as Snow Boarding, Golf but the best one was when the Chinese Grand Prix came about.

You were active on the socials you had back then, and so it wasn't hard for Sauber BMW to reach out to you and give you a guest pass.

You'd been walking round the paddock, just investigating when you'd bumped right into the Finnish Ferrari driver. He had just stared at you while holding a tight grip on your wrist so you didn't fall over.

You remember him asking if you were okay, and some other questions that you hadn't heard fully as your brain had gone foggy at the sound of his soft, yet deep voice.

It was a little embarrassing, when he'd tried to speak Finnish to you, and then decided on English, but with no reply he was left stumped and awkwardly standing there.

He'd soon left after that but you were on each other's minds for the whole day. You tried to keep up conversations with the BMW drivers Robert and Nick but your mind kept drifting the the Finnish Driver for Ferrari.

He found you after the race, and just stared at you for a while before you made the first move speaking to him. And the rest was history.

You spent the next 5 years together as partners, it was convenient for someone like Kimi who raced all through the year apart from summer and winter to end up with someone in a sport who only competed for a month in the summer and winter. It meant that they also still got a break with each other.

After 5 years, Kimi let the big question unload and now you'd been married for 5 years.

"Of course, my love! You know that!" you smile, pulling him closer to you. You tuck yourself into his surprisingly warm embrace, considering his nickname was 'Iceman' he was the warmest person you'd ever had the privilege of meeting.

"I was thinking ..." he breathes, his voice a little higher and whiny than normal.

"Mmmmm, you don't do that often?" you tease, a hand running up and down his back.

"Well, I'm the ice man, your the Ice Queen... i was thinking maybe it's time we have an Ice Baby?" he whispers in the softest most unsure tone you'd ever heard.

"You think now's a good time?" you ask, and thinking about it... it was. You yourself had two years before the next Olympics in 2020, and Kimi was at a point in his career where he could leave and live comfortably if he needed and wanted to.

"I haven't told you this, but they want the Sauber kid in my spot. I'll be going to Alpha Romeo next year. I feel like I've done what i can and I've had my time in the sport... and we aren't getting any younger. Especially me..." he jokes, being 44 now.

"Mmmmmm I think now is the perfect time" you smile.

Flash forward to the Austin Grand Prix and you were 6 months pregnant. You'd already announced it and so many people were excited for you and Kimi, through the season he had loads of interviews. All against his will of course but people saw a different side to him when he talked about you and the soon to be baby.

It was a great race for Kimi in Austin, he pulled through with his first win of the season, valuable points that helped contribute towards his position in the drivers standings.

"So Kimi, first win of the season today! How are you feeling?" an interviewer asks, he was sat in a panel with some of the other drivers in a debrief.

"It was good to get a win, this season has been tough. We've had an interesting year with veteran drivers like myself, Seb, Fernando and Lewis being pushed by newer or younger drivers who are proving to be good competition like Charles, Max and Pierre" he answers.

"There have been rumors that you wont be here with us next season?" he pushes and Kimi roles his eyes.

"If I'm not it's not an issue... racing is my hobby that i get paid to do. I'll leave when i want to" he admits without letting anything slip that Ferrari wouldn't want to come public knowledge.

"Lets move on to you Lewis..."

And for the rest of the interview all he could think of was coming back to you.

Once your daughter was born in January before the start of the 2019 season and Kimi moving to Alfa Romeo everyone on the grid wanted to meet her. So of course, you were obligated to come to Australia for pre-season testing. Your 3 month old being so intrigued at the busy rush of everything around her.

She was a fan and driver fav around. Everyone had a picture with her and introduced themselves as her uncle and that they would look after her. People like Lewis, Seb and Charles all came with little gifts for her, Seb even had someone make her a custom team Ferrari top so she could fit in with her father and her Uncle Sebastian.

"Today was amazing!" you sighed as you leaned into your husband who currently held your daughter against his bare chest.

"Mmmm, I think you should both take a break though, at least until Summer break and join me afterwards" he smiles, knowing that the heavy time change from Monaco to Australia wasn't good for your or the baby.

"Well, I may as well come to Bahrain with you... its on the way back. But I will leave after that" you smile, pulling him in for a kiss.

"I love you, thank you for giving me this life" he smiles looking between you and his daughter.

"I wouldn't have it any of way" you grin.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416

[mercair-just-for-a-little-while]

Mercair's Silly Deltarune: THE ROGUE'S GALLERY (Part 1)

It's finally time. The BAD GUYS are here, at least of them.

Allow me to present them to you:

The Director & The Host: Also known as Anne Tenna and Mike Roffanni, rulers of their own movie/TV themed dark world. Their main objective, after being sent to sleep for such a long time by the lightners, is to make the BEST OF IT.

To make the GREATEST show, the BEST movie... THE ULTIMATE CINEMATIC EXPERIENCE.

And The Fun Gang will be the main characters of all of their shenanigans, whether they like it or not !!

Chapter name: "Back on Stage!"

LW Objects: Antenna, CRT TV

The Captains: Captain Cyclon and Captain Frag.

DEADLY RIVALS !!

What? You thought they were gonna be working together? Pfft nah, these guys can't stand eachother!

Captain Cyclon. Professional superhero (says no one), with his super strength, electric powers, and a really cool cape, seeks to take control of the entire dark world, to turn it into a really strange utopia where everyone is lazy, and lets HIM and his precious sidekicks do all the work. Why? Easy, he's a hero, and an idiot.

Captain Frag. The low tempered king of the seas, mean, always angry, short, and in control of one of the biggest dark world army. He wants to take control of the dark world to turn it into his own empire, where everyone works for him and does what he say, like giving him your entire stash of gold or something.

And the only way for both of them to accomplish their objectives is... TO TAKE OVER THE FOUNTAIN.

Befriend, one of them, and stop the other's plans, if YOU DARE !!

Chapter name: Brotherly Rivalry

LW Objects: Sans' walking cycle, Papyrus' pirate flag.

The CEO: Ahh Ice-E's Pezza... Such a horrifying place.

The CEO, "ultimate" boss of the Ice-E corporation. Though he looks abnormally nervous and insecure, don't let it fool you, this guy is a true boss! It's not like Ice-E himself is threatening him to do this or anything. Nope. Not at all...

So, his objective is quite simple actually: THE ETERNAL PROSPERITY OF THE ICE-E CORPORATION, NO MATTER WHAT. Anything that hurts or threatens Ice-E's image must be ELIMINATED ASAP. You want to close Ice-E's FOUNTAIN? Then you're in for some trouble.

Chapter name: Is Ice-E REAL?

LW object: Ice-E's Employee Manual

The Showmaster: THE FESTIVAL IS HERE !!

The Showmaster is funny, jolly old man, who's only objective... Is to make your adventure the most magical experience possible. Come on, have fun a little! Get on a ride, watch some of the wonderful performances of his crew while you eat your favorite food!

There's nothing to worry about! There's nothing to worry about! There's nothing to worry about!

Specially that pesky "Knight"...

Chapter name: The Knight

LW object: Merry-Go Round

And that's it !!

For now... Hope ya' liked it.

See ya !!

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

was born to be your favourite

Fandom: F1 RPF Pairings: Lestapstri/Established Lestappen Rating: Mature/Explicit Tags: Threesome, thigh riding, light humiliation, implied D/s dynamics, bottom Max Verstappen, top Charles Leclerc, top (?) Oscar Piastri Author's Note: Based off of this 5 sentence prompt that I wrote last night. Uh...apologies if this isn't great it was written in a fever dream or something....hehe. Title from Dream Boy by Waterparks.

He’s had enough to drink that the club’s a little too loud, the lights a little too bright, and he just wants to go home. Charles is boxing him in on one side, Lando on the other side with Alex beside him, and Oscar’s leaning across the table, looking at Charles with eyes bright, cheeks flushed pink, deep in conversation. He thinks – momentarily – about texting Charles, despite the fact that they’re sitting beside each other. But with the way Charles and Oscar seem intertwined in conversation, he’s not sure Charles would even feel the vibration of his phone in his pocket. 

So he has to settle for this, tilting his head back, letting his eyes flutter closed, listening to the hum of conversations he can’t quite pick up because he’s not listening hard enough. It’s a peaceful kind of stasis, if he’s honest with himself. But he feels a loneliness aching in his chest, despite the fact that Charles is sitting right beside him. Feels loneliness, and a hint of jealousy, curling through him like smoke. Because Oscar’s monopolizing Charles’ time despite the fact that Max is the world champion tonight, and it should be him that Charles is paying attention to. 

His fingers twitch toward Charles’ hand, where it’s resting on his thigh, pinkie brushing along the side of it before he realizes what he’s doing, pauses, hand hovering in the small gap of space between their thighs. Tentative. He can feel the blush creeping up his cheeks, and he tilts his head back up, reaching out with his free hand for the half-empty gin and tonic sitting on the table, taking a sip of it for something to do, like he’s not waiting for acknowledgement. 

Mere heartbeats later, Charles is turning his attention from Oscar to him, the smile breaking across his features soft as he reaches out, laces his fingers through Max’s, brushing his thumb along the side of his hand gently. Max can feel the tension bleed from his shoulders as he relaxes back against the booth, as Charles settles their joined hands on his thigh, before turning back to his conversation. It feels halfway dismissive, and Max hates it. 

There’s a small part of him – jealous and possessive – that hasn’t been soothed by Charles’ hand in his, he wants to bury his face in the crook of Charles’ neck, wants to sink his teeth into the tender flesh, just to show them all who Charles belongs to. To show Oscar who Charles belongs to. 

Charles squeezes his hand under the table, and Max squeezes back, relishes in the crumbs of affection he gets granted when they’re in public, like this. His brain’s still a little hazy, too many doubles and not enough water or enough food, and he tilts his head to gaze at Charles, eyes tracing along the curve of his cheek, the wave of dark hair where it curls around his ear, the glimmer of his green-gold eyes in the dim lighting. He’s still half-tempted to lean over and murmur in Charles’ ear, half-tempted to try and force himself into Charles and Oscar’s conversation so he can steal Charles away. 

“‘nother round?” Lando asks, voice too-loud and hot in Max’s ear, and he jolts out of the peaceful reverie, glances at the almost empty drink, mostly melted ice at this point, and nods. “Sure, yeah,” he knows his response is delayed, Lando’s brow raised in expectation, and then he’s gesturing at Alex and Oscar, to get them to move. 

“Should make you get the next round, mate,” Lando nudges Oscar in the ribs teasingly, and Oscar rolls his eyes, lips twitching upwards in a barely-there smile. 

Max doesn’t actually know if there’s going to be another round, though. Doesn’t even know if they’ll make it through this round. 

He takes advantage of the distraction to rest his chin on the steady line of Charles’ shoulder, tilts his face so his cheek is pressed against Charles’. He watches as Oscar steps closer, standing in front of Charles now, instead of across the table. He’s tempted, once again, just to sink his teeth in, wondering if it’ll make Oscar uncomfortable enough to leave. Wondering if Oscar will get the hint. 

“Max,” Charles’ voice is a warning, and the sound that Max makes in response is borderline wounded. “You’re not being very polite,” and if that’s not enough to reset his brain, he doesn’t know what is. The flush on Oscar’s cheeks is blazing now, more red than pink, and there’s a hesitance in the way he’s standing, shoulders rounded in, delicate hands twitching at his side. 

It takes him a minute to clue in, had forgotten that he’d asked for this if he won the championship, extra incentive. Charles picking out a suitable third to make him forget every bit about the shit season, to make him forget about the fact that Red Bull was crumbling around him. He wasn’t expecting it to be Oscar. 

“Want to leave,” he settles for whining in Charles’ ear, and Charles turns to look at him, green eyes bright, burning through him. “Apologize, Oscar is being so polite, and you are being rude, Max,” Charles’ tone is firm, and Max can’t help the flush that washes over him, breaks his stare first, eyes focused on the floor under their feet. 

“I am sorry, Oscar,” it’s embarrassing, to have to apologize, the shame of it curling through him, sharp and hot. Charles makes a noise in the back of his throat, but his fingers tighten in Max’s, and he knows that at least the apology is accepted. 

“No worries, mate,” Oscar sounds appropriately unbothered, if not a little embarrassed, and when Max brings his gaze up to meet the warm brown of Oscar’s, he’s pleased to find a small smile reflected back at them. “No hard feelings,” 

Charles is pulling him to his feet, and they’re making their way to the exit before Max’s brain can even really catch up with the fact that this is happening, with the fact that Oscar’s coming back with them. There’s a car idling at the curb, and Charles opens the door for both of them, helps Max into the car with a hand in the small of his back before he ducks in behind them both. 

“You are being very needy, Max,” Charles’ voice is warm, almost amused as Max tucks himself against Charles’ side, “It is almost as though you think Oscar will be fucking me instead of you, hm?” 

The words do something to him, and Max swallows, heavy, the click of his throat audible in the relative silence of the car. “You are thinking he would be fucking me, or I would be fucking him, yes? That is why you are being so jealous?” Charles scoffs like it’s funny, and Max makes a displeased sound in the back of his throat, pulling back from where he’s leaning against Charles. 

“Charles, you are making fun of me,” annoyance laces through Max’s tone, and Charles laughs, reaching out to place his free hand on Oscar’s thigh. 

“He is very pretty, yes?” The question is directed at Max, and he nods, brow furrowed, lips downturned. “But he is here to fuck you. I am having no desire to fuck anyone other than you, Max,” Charles words have finality, but Max still can’t stop the flare of jealousy. 

“You have been flirting with him all night, Charlie,” He sounds obstinate, wonders if Charles will put him in his place for it later, “Not even paying attention to me,” and Charles looks at him, eyes narrowed, brow raised.

“Ah, I see,” Charles’ voice gives nothing away, but the set of his lips, the tension in his jaw tell Max everything he needs to know. 

“Apologies, Oscar, I may need to remind him of his place first,” Charles’ tone is dismissive, and Max feels a shiver race down his spine, licks his lips and moves to say something, but Charles places a finger over his lips. “No, you will be quiet,” 

He snaps his mouth shut obediently, nods, and Charles returns to his softly murmured conversation with Oscar, arm still wrapped possessively around Max’s back, hand still splayed over Oscar’s thigh, and Max is already floating a little, leaning forward to bury his face in the side of Charles’ neck, where he’s soft and warm, and smells like cologne – something warm and rich. 

He hardly realizes that they’re at the hotel, until Charles is herding him out of the car, hand wrapped around his waist, keeping him close. Oscar’s following, arm brushing against Max’s, and Max has the warring desire to pull Oscar closer, or to shy away to bury himself closer to Charles. Doesn’t have much time to think about it, herded into the elevator, and then it’s just the three of them, confined, and Max feels his breath catch in his chest. Oscar’s eyes on him are soft and warm, and he feels them like a brand, just like he feels the press of Charles’ hand as it creeps under his shirt, brushing along the dip of his spine, dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans, warm and possessive. He can’t stop the sound that escapes him, desperate and needy. “You are still wanting this, yes, Max?” Charles asks, as the elevator shivers to a stop, the door sliding open to their floor, and Max meets Oscar’s eyes. There’s a shy smile on his face, confident and hopeful, desire smoldering in his gaze, as his eyes flutter over the lines of Max’s body. 

Max turns back to Charles and nods. “Yeah, yeah we can,” voice breathless. 

“Strip,” Charles’ tone is demanding, the moment the hotel room door is closed behind them, and Max’s brain has to take a moment to reset, stares at Charles, eyes wide, mouth open, but he can’t think of what he wanted to say, brain empty of thoughts as he looks at Charles, at the open desire reflected back at him. 

He kicks off his shoes, and is pulling off the Red Bull polo as he makes his way further into the room, tosses it into a corner, and waits for the reprimand to be neater, to fold it, but it never comes. Unbuttons his skinny jeans, and pulls them down with his boxers all in one go, hard cock springing up, red, flushed and aching. 

“Eager,” Oscar’s voice comes as a surprise, and Charles’ answering laugh is rich and warm, as he follows Max into the room, wraps his arm around Max’s waist and pulls him close, presses a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Obedient, usually,” Charles says, glancing over at Oscar with a raised brow, “He, of course, is being ill behaved because he thought he would not get fucked, and because he’s jealous,” Charles murmurs the word like it’s poison, and then squeezes at Max’s side, rings cool and burning against his skin. “Stay,” the command rolls off of him with ease, and Max waits. 

He watches as Charles moves towards Oscar, unbuttons his shirt with deft fingers, pushing it open, and off Oscar’s shoulders, before running a hand across the broad expanse of Oscar’s chest, fingers brushing across one nipple, and then the next. He watches the shiver that runs through Oscar, the jump of his jaw, the way his eyes flick from Charles to Max with hunger. 

His cock aches, and he can feel it weeping precome. He feels vulnerable like this, exposed to the room, Oscar’s eyes dragging over the lines of his body like he’s something to be devoured. 

“Max,” Oscar’s voice is ragged, as Max watches Charles fingers dance over the waistband of Oscar’s jeans, unbuttoning them, dragging the zipper down, “You look so good for us,” and Max can see the corner of Charles’ mouth tilt up in a smile, “Doesn’t he just?” Charles murmurs, leans in to press a kiss to Oscar’s cheek. 

“Pants off, and then on the bed,” Charles murmurs, so low that Max can barely hear him, “If you’re good at listening to instructions, I’ll let you know how to take him apart,” Charles glances over at him, and Max can’t stop the whine that slips from his lips. “Once he is remembering he had no reason to be jealous in the first place, hm, darling?” 

Max just nods, shifts from one foot to the other, watching as Oscar peels off his jeans, tossing them on the chair to the side of the room, before he crawls into the bed, leaning against the headboard and watching, eyes bright and blazing, despite the flush creeping over his cheeks again. 

Charles pulls Max in, fingers wrapped around the expanse of his wrist and tugging, tangling his fingers into Max’s hair. “Are you going to listen?” He murmurs, before leaning in to press a kiss to Max’s forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips, gentle. “Yes, Charles,” can’t even hide the arousal, the naked obedience, as he leans into Charles’ hold, grinds against Charles where they’re pressed together. Charles laughs, soft and warm, in his ear, presses a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, before biting down. 

“Oh? So possessive in public, even when I was arranging this for you, and now you want to be grinding against me. Do you need to mark your territory, Max?” Charles asks, the hint of condescension blazing through Max, hips jerking forward at the words. “Do you need to be reminding everyone who you belong to?”  

“Charles,” his voice is breathless, whined out, and Charles just grins, sharp and wide, releases Max’s hair, and drags him towards the bed. “You are going to be good, yes, Max?” Charles asks, and Max nods, thinks everything other than Charles and Oscar have been burned out of his brain. Watches as Charles pulls off his t-shirt, steps out of his ridiculously baggy, wide-legged jeans, and crawls into the bed, leans in to kiss Oscar gently, before leaning against the headboard and patting his thigh. 

“Come, Max,” 

Max listens, on autopilot, clambering into the bed, straddling Charles’ thigh, before gazing at Charles, expectant, eyes wide and hazy, lips parted. 

“If you’re going to behave like a dog, you can be acting like one too, Max,” Charles says, and the words barely process in the hazy cloudiness of his brain, tilts his head to look at Charles, brow furrowed. “You want to mark your territory? Do it yourself, get yourself off on my thigh, baby,”

Max flushes crimson, cheeks hot, and he opens his mouth to protest to be met with Charles’ raised brow, a tilt of his head, “Are you going to be good?” Charles asks, and Max snaps his mouth shut. He squirms into a position where it’ll be comfortable, face buried into the swell of Charles’ pectoral, shifting, and flexing his hips, rolling against the hard, hot line of Charles thigh. It’s too dry, just on the wrong side of uncomfortable, and when he glances up to complain about it, Charles’ mouth is on Oscar’s, kissing him deep and hot, fingers tangled in Oscar’s hair, to tilt his mouth where he wants him. 

Max can’t stop the whine that escapes him, sinking his teeth into Charles skin, and Charles pulls back with a hiss, “I didn’t tell you that you could stop,” Charles voice is sharp, almost dismissive, “Hurts, too dry,” Max’s chest rises and falls rapidly, and Charles smiles, tilts his head and nods. 

He fumbles for the lube for a moment, and Max can’t stop himself from making tiny, aborted movements against the line of Charles’ thigh. Doesn’t want to stop the sparks jolting through him with each movement of his hips, but it’s achey in a way he doesn’t like. “Good boy,” Charles murmurs, as he squeezes lube into his palm, reaching down between them to wrap his fist loosely around the line of Max’s cock loosely, slicks him up in a motion that’s almost clinical, despite the way Max thrusts desperately into his grip. 

“Charles, please,” Max begs, and Charles just smiles, pulls his hand away, wipes the remainder of the lube on the duvet, and can’t stop the way his face pulls in disgust at his own actions. They’re going to have to call down for more bedding, and pay an additional cleaning fee, but it’s a problem for later. 

“What do you need, baby,” Charles asks, patronizing, and Max just whines into his skin, as he grinds and ruts against the line of Charles’ thigh. It’s lube slick and wet, and it’s almost enough to convince him that it’s good, the slow drag of his cock pressed against his own abdomen, against the line of Charles thigh. It’s hot, he can’t stop the sounds from slipping from his mouth, as Charles tangles his fingers in Max’s hair and tilts his head back so he can see the way Max’s mouth falls open at the friction, the way it turns from hesitant to desperate, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“So pretty baby, look at how good you’re being, how obedient,” Charles murmurs the praise, and when Max glances over at Oscar, he catches the flush on Oscar’s cheeks, his head tilted back, hand wrapped around his own cock. “You like seeing him like this, Max?” Charles asks, and Max nods frantically. 

“So silly, thinking that I would let him fuck me, hm? Not when he listens to me so well. He can be fucking you like you deserve,” Charles murmurs, can’t stop the way the filth falls freely from his mouth, as Max continues to rut against him, body shivering. 

“Oscar,” Charles' tone is clear, demanding, and Oscar looks over, brown eyes hazy, pupils blown wide. “Open him up,” it’s a demand, as he hands the bottle of lube over to Oscar, “and then you can fuck him,” 

It takes a moment, to get all the right angles, so that Max can continue the frantic grind against Charles’ thigh, and then Oscar’s hands are on him, stroking down the line of his back, the crack of his ass, until one finger is teasing at his hole, wet and warm, and Oscar lets out a soft little sound, plaintive behind him, and Charles moans “Both of you, so good,” he murmurs, not a mention of his own neglected cock, hard and dripping, keeping both hands anchored on Max’s hips, helping him move, fingers digging into the soft dips of his love handles. 

Oscar’s finger slips inside, lube slick and slow, and he thrusts experimentally in time with the roll of Max’s hips against Charles’ thigh. Avoids brushing against Max’s prostate until he’s got a second finger into him, scissoring him open, tentative and gentle. He gets more confident as Max’s mouth falls open, wail escaping him at the first graze of Oscar’s fingers against his prostate. It feels too good, too much, not enough all at the same time, and he can’t help the sob that escapes him. 

The friction of Charles’ thigh against his cock, and Oscar’s fingers, exactly where he needs them, has him close to the edge before he can even think. His head’s empty except for the coil of pleasure in his abdomen, and need, so thick it feels like it’s clouding up the room. 

“Charles, please, please,” He begs, babbling the words high and needy, and Charles runs a hand down his back reassuringly. “What do you need, baby,” the tone’s still a hint patronizing, like Charles already knows, but needs him to ask for it anyways. 

“Please let me come,” the words spill out with a sob. 

“Of course baby, you’re being so good for me, marking me up like this,” Charles murmurs softly, and Max’s is spilling all over his thigh with a sob, hot, wet and sticky, as Oscar’s three fingers deep inside of him, still insistently brushing over his prostate, the ache of overstimulation settling under his skin as he squirms where he’s pinned.

[ukiiseikou]

the start of something new.

thoma x gn! reader. figure skating au

synposis: thoma's really nervous ever since he spotted you: skating prodigy, at the local rink he's volunteering at as the zamboni driver. a/n: this is part of a series called complementary figures, which is a figure skating au with the hyv characters!

"hi! sorry, this might be really weird, but can i get your autograph?" 

you look up at the voice from your phone, and you see a cute blonde guy giving you an awkward smile. there would be nothing weird about it, except for the fact he was just climbing down from the zamboni that was making it's rounds around your local rink a few minutes ago.

"oh, hey," you give him your best dazzling smile, "no problem! you got anything i can write with?"

"seriously? um, here!" he manages to scramble and produce a sharpie and a printed out picture of you at one of your competitions, a gold medal slung around your neck.

"aw, this was from two seasons ago! when i won the world champion gold for the first time."

you make small talk as you uncap the sharpie, finishing your signature with a flourish.

"what's your name?" you smile at him again.

"uh, thoma - t. h. o. m. a.," you laugh at how bright red he is as you scribble down a quick TO: THOMA above your signature.

"oh my god, thank you so much," he says, almost breathlessly as you hand the sharpie and photo back to him, "my parents used to watch your parents on TV. we used to be from mondstadt as well."

"mom and dad? haha, that's so sweet. when did you move here?”

“a few years ago,” he scratches the back of his neck, “maybe when i was, like, twelve? anyways, i never managed to get the same ice time as you, but i’ve been watching you a lot. archons, that sounds weird, right? sorry.”

“oh, it’s okay. actually, thanks for the support,” you let out another laugh as he frantically apologises, “i’ve been skating here since forever, i think everyone in this town has seen me fall once or twice.”

"thoma! the ice!" the both of you wince as the rink manager yells at him, gesturing to the buckets of ice used to patch up the surface of the rink.

"right, that," he mumbles. you watch as he troops over to the buckets of ice, picking up one with a spatula. turning to survey the ice, you see the various divots and holes that dot the ice, thanks to you and the other skaters, no doubt.

“here, let me help,” you watch as he pulls on his rental skates and go to grab your own bucket, taking off your guards as you step onto ice. he awkwardly follows behind, legs scrambling to keep up.

“haven’t - haven’t skated in a long time,” he says, after straightening up.

“you don’t skate often?” you’re scared he’s going to splat straight onto his face with the way he’s moving, so you move in closer, just in case he falls.

he shakes his head, “winter sports and me? not a great match. more of a track runner, actually. just here to earn some extra cash during the holidays. my friend skates here, uh, ayaka?”

“ayaka kamisato? i know her, the one who skates with her brother, right? i see her sometimes.”

you blink and suddenly thoma’s feet nearly slide out from under him as he bends to patch up a spot. he wobbles before regaining his balance.

you breathe out a sigh of relief as you round up on him, “here, bend at the waist, not the knees.”

“like this?” you cringe as he does exactly the opposite as what you just said.

“not quite… actually, just grab onto me,” you take his hands in yours, at which he sputters at. you laugh as you take him into the middle of rink, letting go of his hands to scoop some ice to patch up the surface of the ice beneath you.

“like this,” you demonstrate, and when he finally nails the pose you turn around with a self-satisfied grin to focus on the far end of the rink.

thoma short-circuits, but as he watches you busy yourself with inspecting the ice, he turns and does the same thing, wishing that a hole could open up in the ground and swallow him whole. the extra cash thing was true, but he’s had a major crush on you for years - but he swears its not for that reason alone. ayaka and ayato are here, so he gets to hang out with them in his free time and not worry about being bored out of his mind all day; and he likes helping out the neighbourhood whenever he can, and when he heard the rink manager fretting about not getting enough volunteers this summer, he naturally signed up.

“hey.”

he nearly slips and falls when he hears your voice next to his ear, and you laugh - which sounds like wedding bells.

“i finished my end of the rink, you done with your’s?”

“uh, yeah,” he stares down at the nearly empty bucket in his hands, guess he works fast when spaced out and imagining things.

“great!” you take his hands again, and he has no choice but to allow himself to be pulled back and forth by you.

“thoma, do you wanna get dinner together? maybe my parents can meet your’s someday, and give them an autograph, too.”

he doesn’t reply, but you’re plenty amused by his ums and ahs and shaky okays.

[grantmentis]

2024 Ice Hockey Women's World Championship: A Primer

When: April 3rd to April 14th. The schedule here will tell you when games are taking place both in your local time and venue time.

Where is it taking place?: Utica, New York

Where to watch:

For the first time, we will have ALL games broadcasted in USA and Canada. I am not sure how many games are going to be broadcasted outside North America, but we can reasonably assume they will at least carry their home country games

TSN will carry all games in canada

NHL Network and ESPN+ will carry a mix of the games together. See The Ice Garden's Michelle Jay's tweet for the schedule of which games are where.

SVT (Sweden)

Discovery (Finland)

Czech TV (Czechia)

Magenta (Germany)

TBS (Japan)

Swiss TV (Switzerland)

If you are not in any of these countries, or you are but are struggling to find a way to watch, please feel free to DM me and I will do my best to find you something

What is the tournament format?:

There are two divisions, Division A with the five ranked teams going into the tournament and Division B with the next five. Each division plays a round robin style ranking round, and at the conclusion the bottom two teams in Division B will be relegated, while the rest automatically make the quarterfinals. Quarterfinals will go A1-B3, A2-B2, A3-B1, A4-A5. In addition to the finals for gold that will take place, there will be a bronze medal game and a fifth place game for ranking. Standings will use a three point systems.

Who is in each division?:

Division A: USA, Canada, Czechia, Switzerland, Finland

Division B: Sweden, Japan, Germany, China, Denmark

Who are each teams?

Here is where it gets long. Below the cut I will tell you each teams roster, how they did last year, their reasonable goals, notable roster changes, and three players to watch. I will do my best to keep this informative, but brief.

USA

Roster:

(Text version available here)

2023 Result: Won Gold

2024 goals: Win gold again

Notable roster changes: This team continues to go very very young. Abby Roque is the most notable roster omission here. Top defender Lee Stecklein is also not on this roster, due to her taking a break from the National Team. Amanda Kessel was also left off, but she has not been active within the last year as a player, so not entirely surprising.

Three players to watch: Grace Zumwinkle has been one of the stars of the PWHL so far, and is likely to get more responsibility on the national team than ever before, so keep an eye on her and how she may translate her successful season to the tournament. Rory Guilday may only be 21, but she is heading to her third senior world championships, a long time favorite of the team USA coaching staff with her shutdown defensive skills who they'll hope can take another step this tournament with Lee Stecklein absent. Joy Dunne is the youngest player on this roster, just 18 years old coming off a 24-18-42 season in Ohio and a national championship. This will be her first senior level tournament, and I'd expect her to get ample offensive opportunities.

Canada

Roster

(text version available here)

2023 result: Silver

2024 goals: Gold

Notable roster changes: Micah Zandee-Hart is the most surprising one after being on the roster for a few years. Claire Thompson is absent as is Rebecca Johnston, but that is more expected while Thompson is finishing medical school and Johnston has not played in the past calendar year. Cousins Nicole and Julia Gosling join the team after strong rivalry series showings.

Three players to watch: Natalie Spooner is the front runner for PWHL MVP, so everyone will be watching to see if she continues to score at the rate she has been. Expected number one overall pick in the upcoming PWHL draft, Sarah Fillier, will be playing in her last showing before the draft happens as she finished out her college season. Nicole Gosling was the highest scoring defender in the NCAA this year at Clarkson, going 14-25-39 in 40 regular season games, so seeing how she impacts this blue line is a must watch.

Czechia

Roster

(Text version available here)

2023 result: Bronze

2024 goal: upset their opponent in the semifinals and make the finals

Roster changes: The bad news is top defender Dominika Lásková is out with injury. The good news is star goaltender Klára Peslarová is healthy unlike last year, as is blueline mainstay Tereza Radová. Alena Mills retired from the national team. Kristýna Pátková did not make the team this year, in her place comes Boston University commit Anežka Čabelová who had a stellar U18 worlds. Karolína Kosinová did not make the team, in her place is HV71 assistant captain Klara Seroiszková.

Three players to watch: 17 year old Adéla Šapovalivová was the highest scoring u18 player in the SDHL (Sweden's highest level league) this year and one of their top scorers in general going 11-18-29 in 32 regular season games. She was also a key part of the U18 team that upset Canada in the semifinals to advance to Czechia's first ever u18 final. With Mills retired, she will get more minutes at her third (!!!!) senior worlds. Next up is Klára Peslarová, and if you're not familiar with her game, she is straight up a top five goaltender in the world. She just came off a stellar season with Brynäs IF in Sweden where she had a .935 save percentage in 20 games, and has been consistently stellar on the international stage as well like when she had 55 saves against the united states at the olympics. Kateřina Mrázová is a fantastic playmaker has been a bright spot on a Ottawa tam that has struggled to find itself, and is also one of the most veteran members of this squad. If they win, she'll have to lead the way.

Finland

Roster

Text version available here

2023 finish: Fifth Place

2024 goals: Bronze

Roster changes: Two of their key offensive pieces Elisa Holopainen and Michelle Karvinen, are back and healthy this year! Susanna Tapani is also back on this team. Those are three absolute big pieces that completely change this roster for the better. A few depth roster forwards were left off in their place, most notably Kiira Yrjänen. Defense has more shakeups. Sini Karjalainen is a notable omission and long time defender Rosa Lindstedt retired. Eve Savander, Oona Koukkula, and Siiri Yrjölä slot in.

Three players to watch: I've consistently been a very big Elisa Holopainen fan and I think she's one of the best players in the world and not talked about nearly enough. Just as she began to really shine in the international stage, she got hit with injury, but as she's come back with year she dominated Finland's league going 32-25-57 in 19 games. I think I've put her as a player to watch like every year I've done a preview and I'm going to keep going it. Finland has faced a lot of questions about their goaltending following Räty and the team going their separate ways, but right now, it is Sanni Ahola's crease to lose. She was stellar in the three games she started last year for Finland in the world championship and was solid for st cloud state with a .935 save percentage in 17 starts this year. With Lindstedt's retirement, Krista Parkkonen will see more minutes, coming off a breakout sophomore year in a university of vermont program that's developed a decent amount of international blueliners.

Switzerland

Roster

(Text version here)

2023 result; 4th place

2024 goals: bronze

Roster changes: quite a lot of shake up. no Caroline spies as their mainstay backup, Alexandra Lehmann takes her place. No Sarah Forster, who wore an A and led their defense last time around. She only played 7 games in SWHL this year, so likely injury is at play.

Players to watch: it is, of course, the Alina Müller and Lara Stalder show until it isn’t. So, besides them, the players to watch are Andrea Brändli is another “top five goaltender in the world” to know, sporting a .937 in her first year playing in Sweden post a stellar college career. 18 year old Ivana Marie Wey just had a great year playing pro as Stalder’s teammate and will be important for the next Swiss wave. With no Forster, Lara Christen will take on a lot of the top defensive minutes most likely.

Sweden

Roster

(Text version available here)

2023 results: sixth

2024 hopes: return to group A

Roster changes: no Sarah Grahn which isn’t entirely expected but still a big change, in response Ida Boman gets the call. No Fanny Rask or Olivia Carlsson, who retired.

Three players to know: Ebba Hedqvist is a 17 year old elite center coming off a great performance at worlds and has an eye for playmaking that will be critical for Sweden. Maja Nylén Persson is the #1 defender of team Sweden that has consistently been the top defender by points in the SDHL and won defender of the year in 2022-2023, and she is only 23 years old. Another part of Sweden’s insane center depth is Lina Ljungblom, who will likely play in Montreal next year and had 46 points in 36 regular season games. In the various tournaments/friendlies that Sweden has played leading up to this (ie five nations cup), she has 10 goals in 15 games. These three players are truly some of my favorite in hockey right now

Japan

Roster

(Text version available here)

2023 result: 7th

2024 hopes: return to group A

Roster changes: honestly we mostly running this back. One or two u18 add ins but overall the same as 2023

Players to watch: stop me if you heard this before but Akane Shiga is very good. The PWHL Ottawa player is the only player from Japan to score against the USA, and will continue to be japans biggest threat. Another big player is Haruka Toko, one of the SDHL’s top scorers this year who had established herself as a top talent in the last two years. This year, the 27 year old had 13 goals and 30 assists in 36 games in Sweden this year. She was one of seven players in Japan to play in Sweden this year, a year that saw a new high in Japanese players going overseas to play. That also includes my last player to watch, Yoshino Enomoto, who played in switzerland and still put up around a point per game on a team that struggled (they folded in the offseason then came back and built their roster late and were ultimately relegated, but she was a bright spot in her first season there)

Fun fact: did you know three pairs of sisters play on this team? Akane and Aoi Shiga, Haruka toko and Ayaka Hitosato, and Rio and Riri Noro

Germany

Roster

(text version available here)

2023 Results: Eighth

2024 Goal: Make quarterfinals and avoid relegation

Roster changes: Both goalies behind Abstreiter last year, Chiara Schultes and Johanna May, did not make this roster with Hemmerle and Loist taking their place. The d core remains the same besides Daria Gleissner taking Heidi Strompf's place. National team vet Marie Delarbre is absent with injury, Sonja Weidenfelder did not play hockey this year and her status is uncertain, and Anne Bartsch did not make the roster. In their place we have Emily Nix, Lilli Welcke, and Lucia Schmitz.

Three players to watch: Luisa Welcke was with Germany last year, but has a second season in the NCAA under her belt and a nice depth player performance at Boston University. She will have more chances to show off her offense this tournament than in the NCAA, and I'm excited to see what she can show. Jule Schiefer had a revelation this year in the German league. From last year where she only scored 4 goals in 20 games, this year she scored 22 in 24. Let's see if she can continue this at worlds. Nina Jobst-Smith will play big defensive minutes for Germany after finishing her fourth season at Minnesota Duluth, this time serving as an assistant captain, and was nominated for 2023-24 All-WCHA Third Team. She's a two way defender who will be taking on big responsibility for Germany as she has in the past.

China

Roster

(Text Version available here)

2023 result: Promotion from Division I

2024 goal: Make quarterfinals and avoid relegation

Roster changes: Oh boy. So, like, a lot of people, and here is why: up until this tournament, China allowed dual citizens not born in China to play for them. This includes some players you may know from PWHL/NCAA like Leah Lum, Hannah Miller, Rachel Llanes, and Tia Chan. Going into this tournament, they changed the rules and those players will not be eligible, so it is a significant roster shakeup.

Three player to watch; This team is very young. Yifan Wang is 16 years old, and in her international debut scored 10 goals in 5 games in the WJC-D2A U18. This is obviously a gigantic step up in competition and very hard for a 16 year old to be playing against adults on the highest level stage of women's hockey, so I don't imagine she'll get a TON of ice time, but she is worth looking out for. Xin Fang is the veteran and star of this roster, who had 2 goal and 2 assists in the teams D1A tournament that earned them their promotion. 17 year old Dartmouth commit Grace Zhan is who I expect to be their starting goaltender. Born in Beijing, she spent the past year playing Minnesota High School Hockey and put up top numbers in a league that sees a lot of NCAA recruits.

Denmark

Roster

(Text version here)

2023 Results: Promotion from Division I

2024 hope: Make Quarterfinals and avoid relegation

Roster changes: Long time national team star and centerpiece of the team Josefine Jakobsen will no longer play for Denmark, though she will continue her club career.) Otherwise, despite some depth changes, it is mostly the same lineup.

Three players to watch: Frederikke Foss had a great year at Shattuck St Mary's u19 program and has committed to UMaine, and may be able to spark some offense Denmark will desperately need without Jakobsen. Silke Lave Glud will also be expected to carry the offense after her stellar year in the Tier 2 league in Sweden, and lead the way for younger players as one of the most experienced members of the team. Goaltender Emma-Sofie Nordström's performance at the D1A worlds was a big reason for their promotion, and she is coming off a great sophmore year at st. lawrence university where she had a .931 save percentage in 36 games and 7 shutouts. If Denmark wants to stay in the top division, she will need to steal a game for them.

[helluvapoison]

Hi!!! For the injury promts, could i ask for prompt 6+dialogue 17 with Lucifer? Im down so bad for this man-

you make it easy

warning: blood, violence, ooc(?), angsty and dramatic

Stars, he should’ve accepted your offer when you asked to join him on this morning’s errands. He was a fool to think his good mood would last.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Believe it or not, there was a time when Lucifer noticed everything. The sky is brighter than it was yesterday, he would say to no one, he simply noticed. Nowadays it was harder, a struggle to live outside his own mind. There was a passing thought every now and again. Hey, that lamp is new or Charlie’s nails match Maggie’s. But even those came at the worst times and he never pointed them out when he should, be it in the middle of an argument or entirely different conversation. Determined, he kept trying. More than that, he tried to see his world through his daughter’s eyes, to see that there could be good in the strangest places.

It was hard when the looming cloud of misery and evil followed him every time he tried to leave the hotel. The only time it didn’t was when he was accompanied by you. Charlie, as good natured and pure as she somehow was, was biased. Lilith’s doing, of course. His ex-wife made it seem like Lucifer’s decision was a gift and not the curse that it really was. But you… you were magical. You held an umbrella he couldn’t see that kept him safe from the endless troubles he made with his own two hands. While he knew he had every capability to protect himself physically, the inner workings of his mind was an entirely different story. Besides, it was, admittedly, nice to have someone else do it simply because.

You didn’t want anything from him. You just thought he was worth the effort.

If only he could think the same for himself. Not even two blocks into town did the thick clouds gather into a storm above his crown. It whipped and raged in his mind, hissing what he already knew. He wasn’t. God was punishing him for a reason and that reason stared him in the face every waking moment in Hell. Piles of bodies, gallons of blood, drugs, sex, etc. Not an hour could go by without seeing it all. So who could blame him when he lost sight of Charlie’s dream in the fog of guilt and self pity? How was he supposed to notice anything other than the deplorable sinners and their heinous ways?

He rounded the first corner he could, gasping and clutching at his vest. Whistle leaning against the cool bricks, a shadow stretched toward him. He saw. He saw the demon, he saw the jagged knife and he saw the intent in their eyes. Going against the King of Hell was a suicide mission but Lucifer saw exactly what they wanted from him. Retribution.

In all but a moment it was over. Red blood splattered on the alley wall opposite to him, merely adding to the number of stains it had worn over the centuries. Golden blood though? WItnessing that was a treat indeed. Through the tear in Lucifer’s ivory suit he could see it dribbling down his arm. As his eyes traveled over his attire he could see it was also blighted by the demon’s blood. That took precedence over his own injury but at the time he was grateful for the distraction. The news would lap up a scandal with the Morningstar name on it–

He needed to leave.

Lucifer attempted to summon his wings but they refused to budge. The sky was unsafe to them. It felt as if a thousand eyes were judging him from above. Fuck the news— Heaven was judging him.

He needed to hide.

The man slammed the end of his cane against the ground, instantly conjuring a portal that dropped him unceremoniously into your room.

A guttural growl ripped from his throat as he took in his surroundings of your belongings, “No! No, you stupid–!”

“Lucifer?”

You performed magic once again; turning gold into ice and freezing him in place with his back to you. He begged the wall for answers. What should he say? What should he do? Why the fuck did his magic bring him here when he just wanted to–

“Is that– Fuck! You’re bleeding!” You gasped

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed! Funny story, I didn’t mean to intrude– you know me, a gentleman should always knock– so I’ll just get out of your hair.”

As he spoke you’d scrambled over and stole any chance he had of absconding out of there. His voice got smaller and smaller until it was nonexistent. You reached not for his arm but for his coat, pulling it back to reveal a bigger patch of gold seeping through his vest.

“Oh that can’t be good.” He muttered, more annoyed than anything.

“Ok, uh, fuck. Fuck. You stay here and I’ll get—”

The second he felt you withdraw he whipped around and snatched your wrist like a lifeline. Your chest puffed with a smaller, quieter gasp as you drank in his appearance. Covered in more blood than just his own, he looked utterly panicked. Less than few had seen the king this way.

“No! No, I-I-I can’t have anyone see,” Daring to look down at himself, he foolishly thought maybe the gorey reminder wouldn't be there. And like a fool he winced when it was, “this. Please don’t tell anyone— Especially not Charlie.”

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in you, just a firm nod that filled him with relief.

“You’ll do everything I say then.” You bartered, though it wasn’t much of an option.

Lucifer’s heart threatened to plummet to his stomach. He tried desperately to blink away the fog of doubt that lingered. You wouldn’t blackmail him… would you?

“I… Yes? W-Well, what do you want?”

“I don’t want anything—! Er. I mean, I guess I want you to listen and be still while I clean you up? I’ll probably have to burn this before Al sniffs it out. And Nifty’s been going through my shit again so it’ll take me a minute to find…”

You began talking to yourself and Lucifer tuned your voice to background noise when he heard all he needed to. Of course you wouldn’t blackmail him, he felt horrible he even doubted that!

The word ridiculous came to mind as he looked up to try and spot that invisible umbrella you always seemed to be holding for him. While Lucifer searched the air, you got to work. He was malleable for your gentle hands, allowing you to strip his upper half and discard the evidence in the fireplace of your room (he didn’t complain, you’ve seen his suit collection) You diligently cleaned both cuts with utmost care, surpassing what he deemed acceptable and ignoring him when he said exactly that. Only when his skin was porcelain again did you bandage them with a nearly depleted first aid kit you kept under your bed.

“Here, it might be big on you but it beats freezing. The sixth floor has a vendetta against working heaters so it gets chilly here. That's why I keep the fireplace on all night.” You rambled as you pulled one of your own shirts over Lucifer’s head. He noted it was one of your favorites as he had seen you wear it often. Sometimes days in a row! He was more than honored; he was on cloud nine! If this is how you felt when you wore it, he’d never take it off.

“Thank you.” Lucifer said softly. For everything, he didn’t add.

“Anytime,” You replied dutifully. Then casually killed him with, “You can have my bed, by the way. I’ll take the sofa.”

“That-That’s much too generous. You’ve already done so much, I—“

“If it were me, would you let me leave?”

His eyebrows nearly shot up and off his head. The very thought of you bruised and bleeding in his room had flames licking the back of his throat. He needed to expel the smoke through a sigh, covering it up with a fist to his mouth, mumbling,

“You know I wouldn’t.”

“My sentiments exactly. So get your royal ass in the bed… Your majesty.” You bowed low and perfectly, keeping eye contact with him all throughout your bit.

A minuscule laugh escaped him and you beamed seeing your efforts were not in vain.

“Fine. Well… we could, ah, both fit in your bed. If you wanted! I-I’m just looking at it a-and that sofa is not an adequate sleeping area for you. Much too small.” He squinted at your couch disapprovingly, pursing his lips as he pretended his heart wasn’t about to leap out of his chest.

You stood to your full height, seemingly considering the offer, “Only if you’re sure I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Already pulling back the covers for both of you, he scoffed and actually tried to shoo your worries away with a wave of his hand.

“Hurt me? No one can hurt— Oh. Hm. You caught me on a bad day, I can’t say what I normally do.” Lucifer tucked his hooves under the blankets as he spoke, waiting for your cue of laughter that never came.

The bed dipped beside him, much closer than he was anticipating. Your forehead melted against the top of his fluffy, blonde hair. He watched your hands twitch, longing to embrace him but too cautious for your own good. If he wasn’t such a coward he would close the distance himself.

“I didn’t know you could get hurt.” You sighed heavily, finally releasing what had troubled you since you saw him.

Lucifer’s brows dipped in concern but he kept his eyes trained on the burning fireplace across the way, “Anyone can get hurt down here.”

“That shouldn’t be possible. You’re the king.”

“You’re going to give me a big head, darling. Being a king doesn’t exempt me from pain. There’s quite a few ex-kings down here that could tell you that,” He attempted to laugh. Subconsciously his hand landed over his bandaged side, rubbing the soft fabric of your well-loved shirt. “I’ll be alright. Besides it wasn’t an angelic weapon so it wasn’t a serious assassination atte—“

“What?” You reeled back with wide eyes, kneeling beside him and gripping his shoulders lightly, silently begging him to focus, “Wha-What do you mean!? People have tried to kill you before!?”

He stared at you like you asked him why the sky was red. He didn’t understand your panic but he knew he didn’t like it.

“Well… yes? Yours truly isn’t only hated by Heaven. There’s plenty of people down here that pray for the royals' downfall, Hellborn and sinners.” Lucifer tilted his head, confusion had his brows furrowing, “But they can’t kill me.”

“But-But you said it probably wasn’t serious? How do you know? Who did this to you; what did they look like? I-I’ll go find them and—“

“Good golly, breathe! Just let it go, it doesn't matter.”

Your eyes flashed red to let him know the fire of your fury you was blazing. But your eyes glassed over as well, pupils shrinking and jumping across his face like you were memorizing every detail. You held him so gently, like he was going to disappear if you let go.

“Yes it does! It matters to me because you matter to me, Lucifer!”

You were scared.

“I-I—“ He was dizzy with euphoric disbelief. You could tell him every day that you cared about him and he would become breathless every damn time. “I killed them.” He managed to choke out.

You didn’t immediately relax like he had hoped you would. Exhaling through your nose you nodded once that hit him with another magical wave of pride, solidifying his choice and making him sit slightly straighter.

“Good.” Your voice dropped dangerously for a moment. He was presented with the terrifying reminder that you are a sinner, you’re down here for a reason. He couldn’t linger on the fact when the red wisped away from your eyes and returned to the lovely shade he remembered and adored. “That’s why you didn’t want Charlie to know.”

“Anyone,” He corrected softly before his voice turned almost bitter, “No one can know. It might give people the wrong impression if their king did the opposite of what his daughter’s hotel represented. Not-Not that I care what they think but… I don’t want to let her down. Again.”

You practically pulled him in your lap, tucking your chin against his shoulder and sighing heavily. Your warm breath tickled his skin and sent every hair he had standing at attention.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” You promised.

“How.. is it so easy for you to say that?”

“I dunno.” You said all too honestly, pulling back slightly to rest your forehead on his, “Some people make it easy.”

Content with that answer, for once his mind quieted and stilled. He melted against you until he was safely tangled in your embrace.

[as-is-yours]

happy 2024 summer olympics!

some tog watching the olympics hcs for the soul because i love the olympics and i decided they do too:

andy competed in the ORIGINAL greek olympics. yes she did

with the guard being as competitive as they are, the olympics are a BIG deal in the safe house - it’s like the football world cup but all day every day for three weeks straight

it’s obviously too dangerous for the guard to attend the olympics these days with all of the cameras and media, so they hunker down in a safehouse and watch as much as they can on TV

they used to go most years though, nicky even told nile that he considered competing in olympic shooting back in the mid 1900s but it was too high profile to risk it

quynh was in the ocean when they brought back the olympic games as we know them today. her first olympics year back with the guard she asks andy why everyone is clothed and where the victors wreaths are

nile LOVES the olympics so she fits right into the dynamic when the first olympics of her time with the guard roll around

she was a little nervous about coming on too strong that first year, but when she saw how hard they roast each other and how much they goaded her into being just as competitive and aggressive as they were, she settled in easily

they would later regret unlocking that part of her once they realize how painful watching the olympics with an american is

nile keeps a scoreboard on the wall next to the TV where she updates the medal counts daily and reminds everyone who’s winning (the usa)

joe, quynh, and booker prefer the summer olympics while nile and andy prefer the winter olympics. nicky is just happy to make some money off of booker when france loses, no matter the season

“andy im getting us a peacock account to watch the olympics, they’re starting next week” “peacock account? what the hell is peacock? like the bird??”

there’s ALWAYS a bet going on. for the full duration of the olympic games there is never not a bet going on

nile will be doing joe’s dishes for a month after kaylia nemour beat suni lee in the uneven bars final

booker owes nicky €300 after italy advanced out of the first round of the women’s doubles tennis tournament (france did not) and another €1000 for italy winning the gold medal

andy stays out of the betting for the most part, or just picks the best athlete rather than one representing her home nation

“andy, that’s cheating—” “the scythians were nomadic. i don’t even remember where i was born so i’ll pick whichever athlete i damn well please, and you—” “okay, fine! we get it!”

andy found quynh wandering in a desert, quynh doesn’t really remember where she’s from either so she picks her favorite athletes based on vibe and which countries were her favorites to travel around with andy

there aren’t nearly as many north african athletes as there are italian, french, and american so joe starts adopting the athletes with the most heartwarming comeback/underdog stories as his faves

i feel like nile LOVES usa gymnastics having been a teen watching gabby douglas and simone biles!

that girl was SAT for every gymnastics event cheering on team usa like it was her job

andy has broken her neck attempting to pull off the stunts she sees in olympic snowboarding, gymnastics, skateboarding, figure skating, etc…. but sometimes she nails them. and it’s sick as fuck

nile is from the midwest i know she’s an ice hockey enjoyer. she pregames the winter olympics by making the guard watch miracle (2004) (nicky cries)

booker makes a drinking game for watching the games. he prints out the rules and pins them up next to nile’s medal count. take a sip when an announcer starts yelling, a shot when a random celebrity is shown on the broadcast, and finish your drink when a medalist cries

whenever great britan places below one of the guard’s countries, copley receives a very vulgar and unsportsmanlike text from them

no, quynh does not watch swimming events. thank you for asking

the couch is NOT a safe space. anything goes during the olympics. anyone who gets too mean (or whose athlete loses) can and will be pushed off the couch and exiled to the armchair

i will surely update this as the olympics continue and my friends and i get up to more hijinks. stay tuned and enjoy the greatest sporting event ever conceived

[skyeslittlecorner]

Oh no, everyone has great ideas and you turn them into such amazing stories 🥹 Love family stuffs ahhhhh 😩

How about the kings and their kids prepare for Mother's day? 👀 The kids ask for advices and join their dads in prepare them (...and the king's gifts too... if you know what I mean 👀👌👈)

I love bringing your ideas to life! And I'm glad that you entrust them to me, you don't even know what an inspiration it is, that I can write for you, and you like it. Stay amazing as always 🙏

Family time, let's go!

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Satan and the twins had some trouble with their gift for you. They said they wanted to do it themselves, without dad, because it would be a surprise for both of you. Of course, he agreed, but he still ordered the nobles to keep an eye on them. First they went to Sitri and wanted to paint the cups, but they broke them. Then they approached Paimon to make you your own stickers, but after half an hour, glitter was everywhere. Before they accosted anyone else, Astaroth intervened. He took them to the meadow (so they could run around and shake off some glitter) and only when they got tired did he start telling them about how their father was a child, when they were picking wild flowers for bouquets for you.

Satan himself will give you a box of mint-blueberry chocolates, which you regularly carved at 3 a.m. during your pregnancy, and a smirk with the words "I'm ready for round two." Of course, he pissed you off with that. And since he also brought good wine, get ready for the next five rounds.

Mammon and your little gang will present you with a whole collection of jewelry. You expected them to be pasta necklaces and modeling clay earrings, but of course you underestimated them. Pearl necklace, ruby bracelets, cufflinks with gold beads. Of course, they are made a bit crooked and clumsy, the younger the child the more so, but you and Mammon look like the proudest parents in the world. This is the only jewelry you want to wear.

From the king you will receive a beautiful silk set (actually five sets, each matching one piece of jewelry you received), underwear and a long dressing gown, (and a matching dress, shoes and even a handbag), which you will have to try out together.

Beelzebub loves scribbles, and so does his little girl! The card you will receive will be the messiest, most colorful conglomeration of colored tissue paper, photos and ribbons you could ever imagine. Beel made sure that there was no shortage of materials, so in one place you have shells from the Caribbean, a heart made of Chinese silk and amber with a fossil (where did they get it from? Did he really take your daughter for a walk around the world? You don't ask, you don't want to know the answer).

Beel will give you markers with edible icing. He had a great time with the little one, but now it's time for mommy to show off her artistic talent. Preferably on his body. You can trace his tattoos with a marker, or maybe write something new. He's ready to be your canvas all night long.

Your daughter has Leviathan’s perfectionism, but in a specific version that when daddy likes something, it means it's already perfect. Usually. Sometimes she says daddy has no taste, and that's the sassy part she inherited from you. She would spend a good week sitting in her father's office and embroidering a pillow as a gift for you, with small flowers, because she doesn't know anything else yet. Levi makes sure she doesn't gouge out her eye with the needle, and every time the needle almost pierces her finger, the thread pulls it back. He usually doesn't worry about it, let the child learn. This time he would prefer there was no blood on the embroidery because the gift for you has to be more perfect than anything else.

Leviathan will give you a choker, also embroidered, but with black thread on black material. You can read it only by touch. What does it say? Only you two know. It's so adjustable that it's perfect for both wearing and choking.

[cheriladycl01]

Back in my Day - Fernando Alonso x AustralianOlympicBoxing! Reader

Plot: Becoming a full time paddock WAG after pregnancy and a bad boxing injury and how you wouldn’t change anything in your life!

“Do you ever miss it?” He asks as he joins you in the motor home after just going fastest in FP2. He starts to pull you into a little sweaty hug, which you don’t mind as your used to it with you both being athletes.

“Miss what?” You ask walking round cleaning up after your guys son and daughter who were currently out getting ice cream with the mechanics.

“The adrenaline of a fight, the way the gloves feel, the smell of the ring?” He asks with a distant look in his eyes.

“Of course I do, sometimes I wish I could go back just to see if I’ve still got it. But there’s more important things in my life now than boxing and … I’ve made my country proud. I want to focus on everything I missed out on when I was younger. I want to see the world with you and our kids and I want to be a present mum you know, not of fighting in a boxing ring every week” you sigh, squatting while looking up at him, half cleaning half giving him your attention.

A loud sigh comes from his as he sets himself on the sofa.

“Why what’s got you thinking about this” you ask, standing up and taking a seat next to him with a pat on his thigh.

“I just … sometimes I think back to the incident with you and how worried I was seeing you that injured. I mean … I thought you died in that ring and I know it can’t be easy to watch me in the car and I’m just thinking maybe … maybe it’s time I think about retiring?” He asks almost quietly like he’s afraid to admit what he truly had been thinking.

“Fernando it wouldn’t surprise me if your 60 and racing and scaring the living daylights out of me” you laugh looking over him.

“I’m being serious, I’ve seen how … attentive you are with the kids … and me and I think it’s time I want that life too. I’ve been playing a F1 playboy for far to long. I want to come home, wherever that is as long as I’m with you, you are my home” he smiles and tears fill your eyes.

“Fernando I love you” you kiss him.

“How do you deal with not having it in your life anymore?” He asks into your neck, making it come out a bit muffled.

“Well I have a lot of other stuff that I focus on. And I still do it, I teach it in a gym to kids and I do training in our gym so it’s not fully gone. And the feeling of winning and improving after a loss is something that is more nostalgic than anything. I don’t miss it necessarily, but it’s nice to look back on and think of what I did. Winning gold twice and silver once!” You smile, looking up in a thoughtful way.

“Hmmmmm that sounds, kind of peaceful” he offers and you laugh a little.

“Yeah I guess you could say it is. But Fernando, racing is a part of you, like boxing IS a part of me. It never really leaves you, no matter whether that’s because you continue until you physically can’t and break the record for oldest racing driver, or you own a karting track in Spain and train the next generation … or you become a manager for our son who no doubt will be a world champion with the way he looks up to you or even doing a Nico Rosberg and become a journalist… but baby, the world of F1 will never ever leave you” you assure your husband.

“You’ve made me even more confused on my deduction now” he sighs laughing and rubbing a hand over his face.

“Well whatever that decision is, I’ll be here for you” you smile.

“You know, I remember that one time, I think it was the 2012 Olympics in London, before the accident when you were so convinced you weren’t going to get gold and then you just all of a sudden had this ambition in your eyes … what was that” he asks.

“You, honesty. Your pep talk” you smile kissing his cheek.

“What do you think I should do?” He asks looking at you with the face of a lost puppy.

“That’s not a choice I can make for you my love” you smile at him patting his head leaving him to his thoughts while you go to find the kids.

Fernando stays with his own thoughts for a little before he saunters out to go find you.

As he rounds a corner he sees you messing about with the kids and Lance and it’s a sight to behold. One he can’t help but think he misses far to often.

But was he truly ready to give up his career.

“Papa” your daughter cries running over to her father the 6 year old not knowing much better than to rush off into the busy paddock lane to get to her father.

“Hello beautiful” he smiles as he picks her up, nuzzling her nose with his doing an Eskimo Kiss that they had done since she was just a baby.

Once his son came up to him, offering him an ice cream, that was starting to melt a little and starting to tell him how amazing he raced today his choice was clearer than ever.

Family came first.

y/user

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial and astonmartinf1

y/user: Life Recently. Love my kids, guess the husband is okay 👍🏼

Tagged 1 Person

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astonmartinf1: MOTHER 👏🏼

fan1: omg I want her life so bad

fernandoalo_oficial: my gorgeous wife! I will ignore the caption!

-> y/user: you know I joke 🥰

fan2: her and Fernando bantering makes my life

lancestroll: when will I get to see the kids again!

-> y/user: next race my first son 🤣🫶🏼

-> fan3: Y/N and Fernandos first child Lance Alonso

hater1: gold digger

-> y/user: more like gold medalist … 🥇

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Back at it mate 🫶🏼 🇦🇺

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[tkachuktkaching]

Matthew on the Cam & Strick Podcast

A few things he said

He loves being in Florida & it was his preference out of all the places to go when the trade was going down.

Recapped the trade & how he found out about Johnny Gaudreau's trade just as he got back from his family vacation in Greece.

He gave big praise to brother Brady (unsurprisingly) & his sister for her skills too. He talked and he & Brady got recognised when out in a bar when visiting their sister recently.

He praised Barkov's talent & ability bigtime, his close friend Robert Thomas came in for huge praise as well & he was high on Brandon Montour when he was mentioned by the hosts they interviewed him recently.

His two dreams are to win the Stanley Cup & play with Brady for USA & win Gold together.

If he and Brady were ever to play together it would have to be for team USA or if Brady ever came to Florida because he's not going up there! (to Ottawa) but Brady's a few years from making any decisions about any move but Brady's like a god up there on Ottawa & he (Brady)loves it there.

He said It's sad & a big shame so many of top players haven't played in world cups or Olympics due to lack of opportunities & hopes to be able play in a few in his career.

He's not got his winter clothes from Calgary anymore.

He's looking forward to returning to Calgary when the schedule gives him three days there this next year in January to visit his favourite places for coffee & show off his favourite restaurants.

He's returning to Florida on Friday but he's not driving all that way he's having his car shipped back to Florida.

Big praise for Bill Zito & giving his players everything they need to succeed & for Paul Maurice for helping him become so much a better player & giving him his trust which means a lot to him.

He loves hosting his family & friends at his Florida home.

He tried to not to overstep when he first arrived last year & go with the flow as the new guy but his team mates pushed him to be in a leadership role right away.

Praised everyone, team mates & everyone for helping him settle in so well & feels he's known everyone for 20 years. He's so comfortable in Florida & says he met everyone gradually as they came back in small groups a couple at a time.

He recapped the playoffs and talk about the belief in the room even when they were down v Boston.

He talked about how bad his feet were hurting after the 4x overtime win over Carolina in the playoffs.

Lots of praise for his teammates talking about being surrounding by so much talent in Florida.

He watches practically every game of Brady's, he loves to watch the big games and likes to study certain players mentioning Kucherov.

He's learned he needs to be on the ice & is more valuable on the ice than off & feels he's evolved as a player.

This summer he's worked on PT & Strength & Conditioning & done way more cardio than ever before after recovering after his injury.

He says he's back to 100%

He went to 4 weddings in the off season he was invited to 6 but couldn't go to them all some overlapped with things he had to do.

Talked about the videos of Brady signing Mr Brightside shirtless and the videos that were sneakily taken going viral on SM. Says it's not a true reflection on Brady.

Mentions Brady got more attention than him in the playoffs at Calgary & his dad did last time round!

Talked about his dads 'soft' comments he was more bothered by the timing & being more bothered by how his team were playing at such a vital time with the playoffs on the line. He wasn't upset with his dad & he didn't get a bad reaction from his team. Admits his father was probably right though.

When he got hurt he thought he done his collarbone at first, he stiffened up when being forced to go through concussion protocol. The ovation he got when he came back on the ice, he thought was amazing & meant a lot to him & expresses his appreciation for that.

After the game with his injury he couldn't even wash his body, next day he texted his brother to get him out of bed he was the only one he had at his house at that moment, he even couldn't lift his head due to the pain.

After the game despite the injury. He drove himself home with his sling on! Admitting he knows he probably shouldn't have!!

It was Teddy the head of equipment guy that tied his laces for him ahead of the game he tried to play.

He talked about the Jonathan Quick incident that led to his 2 game suspension refuses to make excuses for his actions but admitted he gets pissed off about goalies bumping into players then losing their minds when players do it back to them. But chalked it up to frustration that boiled over at the end of the game.

His favourite thing to do off ice is play golf & anything he can do that involves being outside he loves & in Calgary he couldn't do anything!

The Elbow Room club also got quite a few mentions, he likes to go out to eat & mentions water skiing but he's still not a boat guy.

Says he used to hate going to the beach when he was younger but now he loves it.

[instructionsnotincluded]

Any chance we could get an Audrey and JJ happy snippet?? If not it’s fine!! I love all the snippets of Rafe and Logan!! 👉🏼👈🏼

Yes!!! Here is the second scene to our fourth fic, the one that will pick up right after the events of season three and take us through season four.

18+ MDNI | language, references to sex, friends joking around. Some things have been deleted to avoid ITM spoilers. Plus, It’s a long one.

They found the rest of the Pogues sitting around the large round outdoor dining table that overlooked both the impressive pool and jacuzzi area, as well as the gorgeous clear ocean. It had been four months since the events in South America and while they were all attempting to figure out what life was going to look like with a shit ton of money, they had all managed to agree on a spectacular vacation before the real world set in.

“There they are,” Sarah Cameron greeted them with a huge smile, her mimosa poised in midair as the couple wandered over to the empty chairs, “we didn’t know if you’d make it or not.”

Cleo grinned playfully over her cup of coffee, “It was fifty-fifty on if you were puking or having sex.”

“And there goes my appetite,” John B dramatically pushed his eggs benedict away from him, the others laughing as he shook his head. Pulling the plate back towards him, he glanced over at his sister and best friend as they settled into the chairs. JJ had since pushed his sunglasses up onto the top of his head as he reached for the glass pitcher of ice water, however Audrey left hers on. “I’m guessing the champagne hit you pretty hard, sis?”

“Yeah,” at the sound of Audrey’s rough and cracked voice Pope Heyward and Sarah shared a laugh, Kiara Carrera reaching over to squeeze Audrey’s shoulder in sympathy. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be having champagne for a long while.”

“It was a $500 bottle of champagne,” Sarah giggled as Audrey winced, thanking JJ softly as he handed her a glass of water. “How does a $500 hangover feel?”

“Terrible,” Audrey sipped her water slowly, taking comfort in JJ’s arm as he tossed it around the back of her chair, “how are you all so…peppy?”

“Well, for starters, we didn’t drink an entire bottle by ourselves,” Pope shot her a pointed look and Audrey rolled her eyes, “and we’ve also been up for a few hours—the Advil started working.”

John B nodded, “Food will make you feel better, Aud. Promise.”

“Ugh,” Audrey made a face at him as JJ leaned over to press a soft kiss to her shoulder, “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Have you never been hungover before?” Cleo asked as she passed Audrey some toast while JJ started to fill his own plate.

“I don’t think a natty hangover is the same,” Audrey confessed as she nibbled on the toast, forcing her stomach to keep it down for the time being, “or at least, it doesn’t feel like it. Plus it’s been awhile.”

“She normally throws it up,” JJ happily accepted the coffee from John B, “before bed—you get it out of your system and it’s better to deal with it in the morning.”

“Fair,” Kiara nodded.

“Let’s change the subject,” Audrey settled into JJ’s arm, his fingers running up and down her arm comfortingly. “What’s everyone’s plan when we get back?”

“I’m only back for a week or so,” Kiara spoke first as she cut into her waffles, “and then I’m off to Florida for training before…Costa Rica, I think?”

“Gotta save the turtles.” Pope grinned as he took a bite of his food. “How long are you going to be gone?”

“Not sure,” Kiara shrugged, “a minimum of six months, I think? It’ll be good for us—I think I need some time to learn to forgive my parents and I think they need some time to forgive themselves.”

“How are they doing?”

“They’re ok,” Kiara glanced over at Audrey, “we’ve talked a lot and they’ve apologized and I’ve apologized. But the problem I’m having is if it would be different if we hadn’t found the gold, you know?”

“You mean if you didn’t have one million in your bank account right now?”

“Exactly.”

“Can I get you all anything else?” One of the servers wandered over to the table, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Could I get a ginger tea?” Audrey asked softly and the woman nodded before disappearing back into the house.

John B nudged some fruit onto his fork, “Alright Pope…Cleo?”

“I gotta get high school figured out,” Pope shrugged as he glanced out over the ocean, “tutoring, studying, figuring out where I left off and how I can get back to where I was. Apply to college, get some of this money into investments, that sort of thing.”

“Boring,” JJ coughed.

“I’m ok with boring,” Pope grinned, “I think the last nine months have been exciting enough, don’t you think?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Sarah lifted her drink to cheers with Cleo and John B, Audrey wincing at the champagne cocktail glittered against the sun, “Cleo?”

“Dunno,” Cleo shrugged, “I think I’m gonna open up a shop. See how life is in the OBX for a while.”

“That sounds really nice,” John B nodded, “what kind of shop?”

“Smoothie? Ice cream? Sandwiches?” Cleo shrugged, “I haven’t figured that one out yet. Gotta talk to the Heywards first.”

“What about you two,” Pope motioned between Sarah and John B with his fork. “What are you guys doing?”

“I’m working on buying the land the house sat on,” John B glanced over at his sister, wishing he could read her expression better with the sunglasses, “and I’m gonna build a house.”

“Chateau 2.0?” JJ lifted his eyebrows.

“Much nicer Chateau 2.0,” John B laughed, “but yeah—it won’t be all wood this time.”

“Sweet,” Kiara nodded happily, “that’s a great plan.”

John B watched Audrey lean further into JJ, his best friend allowing his sister to move closer against him. There hadn’t been a lot of time to watch the two be a normal couple in situations that also didn’t involve life changing or life threatening events—but over the course of the last few months he’d really gotten a closer look at them. They moved together, totally in sync with one another and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about what they were up to. Everyone else had been pretty vocal about their initial plans after getting the money deposited, but neither JJ nor Audrey had offered more than the typical “cars and clothes” they’d all discussed.

“Alright,” Sarah smiled across the table. “What about you two? Gonna get your own love nest?”

John B blanched, “Can we just not talk about their sex life? Can we make that a rule?”

Everyone laughed, including JJ and Audrey. The blonde glanced over at the oldest Routledge, the two silently communicating before JJ cleared his throat, “Yeah, I—I don’t really know what we’re going to do yet.”

“Nothing?” Pope lifted an eyebrow, “Not even an inkling of anything?”

John B watched his sister closely, his eyes flickering between the two as Audrey shrugged at Pope’s question, realization dawned on John an as he said, “You don’t want to go back to the OBX.”

Audrey’s attention shifted to him as he stared back at her. “I—” Audrey sighed, shoving her sunglasses away from her eyes to see him better. “A lot of shit happened there, JB. I’m not overly excited to do anything there right now.”

Silence fell over the table, everyone taking a moment to think back to everything that happened over the last year.

“So, where do you want to go?” Kiara asked the question they were all thinking.

“We’re gonna travel,” JJ took over, his hand slipping down Audrey’s shoulder to caress her elbow, “start with the US and then when the passports come in, see a bit more of the world.”

“You guys have to invest some of that money,” Pope straightened up, “I won’t let you both just piss it away on—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” JJ held up his hand, not liking the heat at which his friends were coming at him right now, “no one said we were gonna piss it all away. We’ve got a plan, we’ve got some things in the works right now. But none of it’s finalized and—”

“Like what?”

“Jeez, Pope, would you let me finish?”

Pope held his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t say decision making is your strong suit and all I’m hearing is that you’re going to travel the world and the world is expensive.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“I don’t know! I’m not so sure!”

JJ grunted, “And going back to high school is the way to go?”

“Alright,” Kiara held her hands out as she waved them around, “can we not on our last day? We’ve got the whole plane ride home to argue.”

John B finished his breakfast before standing, motioning for Audrey to follow him as the Routledges left the table. Audrey squeezed JJ’s shoulder in passing, following her brother down the steps towards the private beach area.

[jeanie-g]

you said to send you any two players with a pulse so I'm here to be annoying about my sharks babies willmack with song #71 ❤

BABY SHARKS!! we literally just yapped about them a few hours ago, but wow they are the cutest!!! I've read, uh, 0 willmack...but i DID do some research. so, hopefully it's good.

it's basically a full fic tbh. and same as before, yadda yadda my actual #72 is irrelevant, so here's 71+2.

[#73] Jackie and Wilson (Hozier)

Lord, it'd be great to find a place we could escape sometime / Me and my Isis growing black irises in the sunshine / Every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside / Sit back and watch the world go by

It's weird being back in Boston. From the moment they'd touched down at Logan, Will could feel it in his bones—this weird unrest. And sure, he was born in Lexington, grew up right outside the city, but it was different actually living in it. Getting his first taste of a professional career in hockey in a city made for it.

And now he's back, eight months since he packed up his dorm and went west. Since he left his family and his teammates to go follow his outrageous dream while they stayed behind.

Mack doesn't feel the dissonance like Will does. He was excited to come back to his old stomping ground. As they filed off the plane, he kept giving the other guys tips on restaurants and bars that don't card—all with this haughty air about him, like he lived here for longer than the nine months he did.

Will envies his nonchalance, wishes he could feel just as normal about all this. Because Boston treated him well, even if it was technically Newton. He loved his team and he liked his classes and he had a blast getting drunk and losing his shoes at frat parties on campus. He even liked the chilly falls and biting winters—often misses them when he's feeling strung out on the palm trees and unrelenting heat of San Jose.

But he can't help the queasiness that creeps in as they get closer and closer to TD Garden, because for the first time in his life, he'll step onto that ice in teal and white instead of maroon and gold.

Here's the thing: hockey players need to separate their lives in two. Before getting signed to the NHL, and after. They just need to, or all the stress of comparison will eat them alive. Guys can break records and win trophies in Juniors or at college, but the second they step foot on that league ice, none of it really means anything.

Commentators and journalists and fans expect there to be a difference in their playing—growing pains—but not much. Not if they're actually good. But it's scary how much of a difference there is. For Will, at least, it was terrifying. Still is, on bad nights when he can't catch a pass to save his life and the Sharks continue their deep dive down the division rankings.

Because you can't just make it to the NHL; you have to sustain yourself in it. You have to fight and claw to stay afloat before you find yourself on the fourth line and then the AHL affiliate, and then behind the bench coaching pee-wees at 32.

Mack, of course, doesn't feel any of this—at least, not like Will does. He got three points in his debut. He was sidelined with a hip injury for a month and bounced back like it was nothing. And yes, he goes on to the media to tout how "different and difficult it is here," and Will goes on to say that even if they don't score any points, "experience is progress," but he calls bullshit—on Mack and himself.

Whatever. He's getting sidetracked. He does that a lot—gets stuck in his own head, this endless rat race going round and round and round until someone—usually Mack or Tyler—snaps him out of it.

Anyways. He's back in Boston and everything's changed and nothing's changed at all.

He's fine.

***

The game is awful. There's no other word for it, really, no word so simple yet piercing that it encapsulates all that went wrong out there.

It's just awful.

Sloppy passes, incomplete plays, half-assed defense. The Bruins are a formidable team, but they aren't unbeatable. Some of the guys seemed like they'd already given up before the first face-off even took place.

Will tries his best to get shit going, but there came a point (probably 14 minutes into the third, when the score is 5-zip), where he has to admit defeat.

He listens to Warsofsky ream them out with half a mind, knowing exactly what he's going to say before he says it. When he looks up at Mack across the locker room, he has his head under a towel. He assumes this means he's just as miserable as Will is, but when they walk out of TD and board the bus back to their hotel, he's back to his jaunty self.

"Do you wanna watch Yellowjackets when we get back? It's finally on Netflix."

Will gives him what he hopes looks like an indignant stare. "No, I don't."

"New Girl?"

"No. I just wanna go to bed, Mack. Don't you?"

He plops down into his seat and Mack follows suit.

"Not really. I kinda wanna go out."

That makes Will twist his body until his right knee is practically in Mack's lap.

"Are you not embarrassed? I mean, how many BU fans came, you think, just to watch you? And that's the fucking game we play."

Will drops his gaze to the floor. Mack's silent for a moment, and Will thinks he's finally struck a chord. But then:

"More than you can say about BC."

Will turns his head and blinks at him. "Seriously?"

Mack just shrugs, and Will scoffs. He takes out his AirPods and pops them in, done with whatever this conversation is.

They don't talk until they enter their room, but Will's not mad at Mack. He just doesn't understand how he's not upset.

"You're pissed," Mack says, clairvoyant as ever, as he drops his bag onto his bed.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Will drops his own bag by the foot of his bed, already kicking off his shoes.

"Isn't it nice, though? Being back home?"

Will chortles meanly. "You lived here for nine months, Mack. That's hardly home."

"I meant for you."

That feels like a blow to the stomach. He sits on his bed and stares at the TV. His reflection looks back at him in the semi-reflection, shrouded in darkness.

It's part of why he signed with BC in the first place, to be closer to home. It all worked out so well, he thought—he was so lucky. He got to be close to his friends and family for a year, maybe longer, until he signed with the Sharks and shipped off to California.

But now, he's starting to wonder if it would've been better if he went to Michigan instead. Maybe if he ripped off that bandaid earlier—got used to being away—coming back wouldn't be so hard.

"I think I know where to go," Mack says suddenly.

Will closes his eyes. "For what?"

"To make you feel better."

Will chortles again, but doesn't say anything else. When he cracks an eye open, Mack's looking at him expectantly. He never did know how to leave well enough alone. It's not like Will particularly enjoys wallowing in self-pity, though, so he acquiesces. Mack hasn't ever steered him wrong, if he's being honest.

"Fine. Where?"

Mack smiles. "It's a surprise."

The 'surprise' ends up being the Common, Mack asking the driver ahead of time to stop at the entrance on the corner of Beacon and Charles. Once Will realizes the destination is outdoors, he starts to protest—it's fucking January in Massachusetts—but Mack just says to trust him.

It's nearly midnight when they get there, the streetlights guiding their steps as they exit the Uber. Mack takes extra care to tip the driver $5, 'cause he's good like that.

Mack's carrying a bag, but he won't tell Will what's in it. Will's not in the mood to argue, so he just follows him wordlessly, ambivalent to wherever he's leading him.

The Common's pretty at night. Snow dusts the ground and bushes, and the waxing moon casts light through the barren tree branches. The noisemakers of the surrounding city haven't completely gone to bed yet, but the area around them is pretty sparse. Muddy footprints going in every direction remind Will how populated this place usually is. He takes a deep breath, watching his exhale puff out in front of him.

They finally come to a stop at the edge of Frog Pond. It's completely frozen over, probably has been for days now considering the impressions and swirls in the ice from skates.

Will doesn't know exactly what Mack had planned—he half-predicted they were gonna 'talk it out' on the Good Will Hunting bench—but it still comes as a surprise when Mack sets down his bag, crouches, and takes out two pairs of skates.

Will laughs hollowly. "Macky, no."

"Macky, yes," he replies, standing and handing a pair to Will.

"We can't skate here in the middle of the night!"

Mack shrugs. "Why not?" His nose is turning red from the cold and Will has to suppress the urge to reach out and cup it with his hands.

"I..." Will crosses his arms. "Because I don't want to."

Mack laughs, seemingly having no regard for the sleeping animals, or whatever. "Never have I known you to not skate when an opportunity presents itself."

Will rolls his eyes. "Why do you even want to? Sixty minutes of making ourselves look like Bambis on ice wasn't enough?"

Mack tilts his head and gives him a look. "I think this ice is a bit different than the rink at TD."

Will opens his mouth to argue that, actually, all ice is the same because it's just frozen water—but something in Mack's expression makes him think better of it. His eyebrows are pushed up, his mouth twisted in that hopeful smirk that either leads to triumph or mischief. Mack's trying to cheer him up, in his own weird way, and Will's kind of being a dick about it.

Will sighs. "15 minutes. Any longer and I think we'd be at serious risk of hypothermia."

Mack smiles that big, toothy grin that emblazoned itself into Will's consciousness the first time he saw it, and every time after. There's some addicting chemical laced in it; there's gotta be.

They find a bench to sit on while they put up their skates. Will didn't even think about how Mack obtained them until he sees the Bauer label.

"Mack, did you swipe these?"

Mack, again, shrugs. "They have our names on them."

Will smiles. "Can't argue with that."

The first step onto the pond is like any other, but as he sets his other skate down and pushes off—as he gets into a stride—he can feel the difference immensely. It's rough, and snowy—difficult to maneuver at first. He catches his pick on a bump at one point and nearly wipes out, causing Mack to stop and laugh.

He didn't realize it's been so long since he skated on ice like this—not manicured and smoothed, but natural—real. It brings him back to when he was just learning how to skate as a kid, uncoordinated but doe-eyed, eager to learn.

Mack lets him be for a few minutes, content to stroll on his own, but eventually he skates up and taps Will on the shoulder. "Race you to the bridge?"

"Oh, you're on, bud."

Mack giggles gleefully as he sets off, Will rushing to catch up before he can even complain that they didn't count down.

Mack's faster than him—always has been, even though Will won't admit it—but the uneven terrain makes him wobble. Will's able to catch up to him and nearly sidle by, grabbing his arm to try and throw him off balance.

"Hey! Cheater!" Mack cries, but it doesn't sound as accusatory when it's punctuated by laughter.

Will laughs, too, his eyes crinkling with it, which is what he blames when his blade catches a crack, causing him to lose his footing. Before he knows it, he's spun around and falling backwards, taking Mack with him.

He lands on his tailbone, the force of it pushing an "Oof" out of him, with Mack sprawled out on top of him.

"Oh, shit," Mack says, scrambling to sit up. His eyes are saucers. "Are you okay?"

Will is slow to sit up, hand moving to rub his lower back. "Yeah," he says, wincing. "Not broken or anything. Just gonna be wicked sore tomorrow."

Mack must be really distressed because he doesn't even comment on Will's use of 'wicked' like he usually would. He just roams his eyes up and down Will's figure like he has X-ray vision and can discern any other bodily injuries.

Will reaches out and places his hand on Mack's arm. "Mack, I'm fine, really."

That doesn't do anything, to calm him. So, he—well, he does it without really thinking. He takes Mack's hand. That snaps Mack out of it, his eyes flicking back to Will's.

"We're hockey players. We literally fall on our asses for a living. I think I can deal with a sore tailbone for a few days."

That gets a chuckle out of Mack. He doesn't remove his hand from Will's, so Will doesn't move an inch.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought you out here to begin with. It was stupid."

Will shakes his head. "No, it wasn't stupid." He's not magically all better, but he finds himself feeling significantly lightened. "I was in my head. I needed a reminder—why we do this, I guess. It was good."

Mack smiles, no teeth this time, and Will thinks that maybe he likes this one better. It's more intimate—just for him.

"I wanted you to feel better," Mack says. "I know coming back was gonna be hard for you, and the game was...well, it was shit, so that didn't help things."

Will chuckles mirthlessly. Mack shrugs, continuing. "I guess I wanted to remind you that being back here isn't so bad."

"It's not bad. You're right. It's just..."

He looks off for an answer, and when he can't find one he comes back. Mack's eyes greet him, warm and understanding. And he gets it, Will knows. Underneath the accolades and the point streaks and the headlines, Mack knows exactly how Will is feeling. Perhaps, sometimes, he feels it more, that label of the 'No. 1 draft pick' weighing on him in a way Will can never know.

It's not about the game, not really, and Will only sort of admitted it to himself before now. It's about being back in the city he really made a name for himself in, before he lost that big-eyed, eager innocence he thinks is so foolish now. He wouldn't trade being in the NHL for the world; he's not that stupid. It just—it kind of sucks right now, and he thinks he's allowed that.

Mack smiles weakly, and he looks so young. Not like Will's that much older, but... it's crazy, how they're both just kids in the end. Kids destined for greatness.

"We should probably stand up now," Mack says. "My jeans are soggy as hell."

Will laughs and they let go of each other's hands to get up. When they do, though—Will spinning around to head back to their shoes—he nearly bumps into Mack's chest.

Mack laughs, and then Will laughs and makes to back up, but Mack gently grabs his arm. Will snaps his eyes up to his, and something in Mack's gaze pins him there. He's utterly incapable of moving, but he realizes he doesn't want to, not when Mack slowly leans in and connects their lips.

And, oh. Oh oh oh.

Mack's lips are cold, but his mouth is warm, Will parting his lips to get a better taste of it. Mack makes some sort of pleasured noise and allows it, taking hold of Will's cheeks and propping his chin up to kiss him deeper.

Will realizes, dizzyingly, that their noses are touching. He wonders if Mack's is still red.

Eventually, Mack pulls back and leans his forehead against Will's. "How's that for a homecoming, eh?"

Will laughs, his voice going high with it. Maybe the cold is getting to him; maybe it's the way Mack is still holding onto his cheeks, so gently.

"You fucking Canadian," Will huffs out, and Mack tips his head back to laugh.

That won't do, though. Will loops an arm around Mack's neck and pulls him back in, swallowing the sound and kissing that smile right off his handsome face.

He feels that unrest from earlier—when they touched down on the tarmac—finally fade away, replaced by something else entirely.

And maybe Boston isn't so bad, or the NHL for that matter. They can't be, not when they gave him Mack, like this, perfect in his arms.

Maybe everything worked out just right.