#on thin ice

[mangobeast]

i wanna rotoscope some skating clips sooo bad. i could do it. i COULD go that far. i could animate crowley doing a triple axel. or aziraphale’s layback spin.

[sleepless-dreams]

ON THIN ICE

summary: letting your brother convince you to take your nephew to his hockey practice turns out to be more than you bargained for. On thin Ice is a quiet, emotional slow-burn about healing, rediscovering passion and falling in love.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this is the first chapter in a series. unfortunately, this whole thing will be written in first pov, I find it suits x reader a bit better than other narrative styles. I don't usually write in first person, so I apologize if the text doesn't flow as naturally.

This story was inspired by a work done by @wandasfifthwife, unfortunately I don't think their work or account are accessible anymore. While the initial concept is similar, this is my own creation with its own original arcs, tone, pacing and plot.

₊⊹CHAPTER 1⊹₊

My eyes flicker up to the rearview mirror to check on my nephew as we head toward the East Ice Arena for his hockey practice.

His father, my brother, has a lot on his plate these days. He and his wife are expecting Owen's sibling. The baby is due in late November, and despite it still being a few months away, preparations are already in full swing. On top of that, the pregnancy is high-risk, requiring Owen's mom to stay home from work. That’s why my brother picked up extra shifts and begged me to take over driving Owen to and from practice for the foreseeable future.

I agreed easily. I have nothing better to do with the gaps in my schedule. Being single with a fairly low social life, I appreciate any chance to spend time with my family.

The traffic light flickers from red to orange and I press down on the gas pedal, continuing down the street toward the arena. The closer we get, the more nervous I feel.

It’s been years since I last set foot in an ice arena, and the thought of returning makes my stomach twist. Memories and thoughts I’ve worked hard to bury threaten to claw their way back to the surface. I don’t like dwelling on the past, but to my demise the rink has a way of unearthing everything I’ve tried to leave behind.

But this isn’t about me. It’s about helping out my brother and his family. About spending more time with them.

Either way, there’s no time to get lost in my thoughts, because we’re already pulling into the parking lot of the East Ice Arena.

"Come on buddy, we're going to be late!" I usher the boy out of the car as I step out myself, turning to circle the vehicle and open the trunk to take out his hockey gear.

Owen comes up by my side just in time for me to hand him his duffle bag. I grab his stick and slam the trunk shut. With a click of a button the car is locked and we start the short walk to the side hall C where the practice takes place. As we walk we pass the main hall of the Arena–a large, steel building where the major matches take place. Practices like the one we're headed to are held in side halls, of which there are several in this facility.

I hold the door open for Owen when we reach the building. We walk into the lobby, which has a reception desk and a snack bar positioned by a glass wall, offering a clear view of the rink for those seated in the bar area. There's a door there too, that leads to the rink.

"Hurry up, some of your teammates are already on the ice." I tell Owen as I hand him his stick. With a murmur I don't catch, the boy disappears down a hallway, past the reception desk and towards where I assume the changing rooms are.

There's no-one but what looks to be a couple sitting by one of the tables, quietly chatting to themselves and a lady standing behind the counter of the reception. I take a deep breath in and move forward, heading towards the door leading to the rink area.

It's simple in theory. It's not like I'm going to be the one skating, I'm just there to wait for Owen to finish up. Yet the moment I open the door and the chill of the air bites into my skin with the sound of skate blades slicing into the ice hits me, my heart rate spikes up. Suddenly I'm back, years ago, with the same anxiety surging through my body and heart pounding loud in my ears. I force myself to go on, to walk further into the area with a thick swallow. Sitting down high up on the bleachers, I exhale deeply through my nose, the air clouding into white fog.

I busy myself with my phone as soon as I confirm Owen made it to the ice. I can't bear to watch them skate, sitting by the rink is enough for me as of now.

I'm so engrossed in the meaningless news article that I don't notice someone sitting down in the seat next to me until the person speaks up speaks up.

"Which one's yours?" comes a scratchy, gruff voice from beside me and I lift my head to regard the man now sitting next to me. He is a big guy, balding and with a dark beard that had a few strands of silver already in it.

I turn my head away from him to watch the kids on the ice, they're divided in groups, doing different drills across the ice.

"Number 9. And he's my brother's." I reply with a flick of my hand in the general direction of where Owen is currently shooting at the goal. By the looks of it, every fourth one makes it into the net, the others bounce off the boards.

"The newbie? He's picking it up pretty late." the man observes.

"It's never late to start new things." I counter his response.

The man shrugs and leans back in his seat, "he won't make the team if he doesn't drastically improve, not to mention the varsity. He's too far behind other boys." His words make me frown.

"He still has time to get better. Besides he's only 13, he's not even in high school yet. And it's not all about varsity, it's about the joy he gets from playing." I reply, my irritation seeping slightly into my tone.

"You get joy from winning. And they won't win if they have boys who drag them down on the team. All I'm saying is don't get his hopes up for playing the big games." He goes on with a scoff.

I get up from my seat, having heard enough of the man's nonsense. I have a deep rooted hatred for parents who see their children as just an extension of their own desire for success. They are the exact reason behind athletic burnout and slow degradation of child's relationship with their sport. In some cases, that grows over to something bigger– repugnance. And I know how big of a toll that can have on the child's mental and physical health.

I come down to the plexiglass, watching the group closest to me make sharp turns around colorful cones spaced out on the surface. There's a pull within me, a phantom of a memory. Nostalgia, maybe even longing. Yet at the same time a deep sense of unease, fear and dread.

In the next few minutes, the space between the stands and the rink fills up as parents come to wait for their kids to finish up, a good indication that the practice is coming to an end.

"Sorry, I think we got on the wrong foot." comes the same voice from the bleachers, disturbing my train of thought for the second time.

I turn my head to face him, seeing him already opening his mouth to continue.

"I just want what's best for the team, that includes your boy. I was just warning you, that's all." he says, frustration evident in his voice as he returns to the topic that made me walk away earlier.

"How about I treat you to a coffee. We can start over?" he suggests. I just shake my head at the offer. I have no interest in talking with him more than I already did.

"I'm not in the mood for coffee right now." I try my best to politely decline, but he persists.

"Then maybe something else..." he suggests instead.

"No, thank you." I reply, my voice a bit firmer this time.

"Come on, we still have a few minutes left before the practice is over and even more before the boys come out of the changing rooms." He tries again, his voice tinged with mild irritation he's trying to hide.

In the midst of him speaking, his hand comes up to rest on my bicep. "Please don't touch me." I take a step away from him.

Just when it looks like he's going to retort something, the gate opens and the kids pile out. I take that as an opportunity to fully leave the conversation, walking over to where the group of boys huddle with their parents in search of my nephew. I find him slightly apart from the main group, helmet in hand, face flushed and hair sticking to his head with sweat. He's drinking from his bottle.

"Come on, Owen. Go change." I pat him on the back as he passes me with a soft grumble. "I'll wait for you by the bar!" I call after him before he fully disappears from my sight.

I shake my head, heading for the door to the lobby with a smile when my phone chimes with a notification. As I'm unlocking it, I bump into someone, my phone falling to the ground with a muffled thud as it lands screen down on the matted floor, right next to a pair of skates that definitely don't belong to any of the boys.

Before I can react, a bit shaken, the person turns around and reaches down with a hand in fingerless gloves to pick up my phone from the floor.

I take it when they hand it over before lifting my eyes to finally see who I bumped into. I come face to face with a very attractive woman. She's taller than me, with captivating green eyes and auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail, a few strands escaped the hair tie and are framing her face.

I'm embarrassed to realize she has been here for the whole duration of the practice and I didn't really notice her. Not only is she wearing skates and a thick, half-zipped team jacket, but as I look at her again, there's a faint redness to her nose from the cold. I didn't notice her once, too busy running away either from the infuriating man or from my past to pay too much attention to the ice.

"Sorry," I quickly apologize when I catch myself staring. That's not a good look for me, I'm sure. I don't even know what I'm apologising for, if it's for bumping into her or rudely staring at her for a moment. Both, most likely.

"Don't worry about it. Is your phone okay?" she asks kindly. I take a note of her voice. It's on the lower side, with uniqueness I can't quite place. Maybe an accent? I can't really tell.

"Yeah, not a scratch." I reply, looking down on my phone again just to confirm it's true.

"Sorry, I don't believe we ever met." the woman says, extending her hand towards me for a handshake.

"I don't believe we did." I agree, taking her hand and giving it a small shake. Surprisingly, her hand is rather warm despite her spending the last hour an half on the ice. Maybe she wore the pair of thick gloves that are sticking from her jacket pocket over the fingerless gloves she's wearing now..

"I'm Wanda Maximoff, the coach of U15." she introduces herself and rests her hand on her hip when we drop the handshake.

I mumble out my own name in response, quickly following it up with some clarification. "I'm Owen's aunt." To justify what I'm doing here.

Wanda smiles. "It's nice to meet you. Hope to see you around." She bids her goodbye and moves past me in the direction of the changing rooms.

With a sigh, I resume my original journey to the bar where I promised to wait for Owen. The transition between the cold of the rink and the lobby is stark, but not unwelcome. Owen is already sitting behind one of the tables when I walk in.

"Where were you?" he exclaims loudly as I approach him.

"I met your coach, no need to get worked up." I explain with amusement as he shoots me an irritated glare. "Come on, let's go home," I call over my shoulder, grabbing his stick and walking away.

"Can you take my bag?" he asks, his voice pitched higher into a whine as he trails behind me.

"I'm taking your stick already." I point out matter-of-factly.

"Come on, auntie!" he tries again, running the short distance between us to catch up to me.

"What's wrong kid? Can't handle your own gear?" the same unique voice from before asks from behind us.

Owen and I both turn our heads to look at the coach. Her eyebrow quirks in question and her lips are already pulled into a half-smirk. This time, her skates are thrown over her shoulder with a red duffle bag slung over the same shoulder. She may be smiling, but her eyes are stern as she looks down at my nephew.

One shouldn't look so good lecturing a kid, I think to myself. I exhale through my nose, shaking off the absurd thought.

Owen huffs in response, but doesn’t ask me to carry his things again. He just adjusts the bag's strap to sit over his shoulder better and moves first in the direction of my car.

I flash Coach Maximoff a small, amused smile before turning around to follow Owen, reaching into my pocket for the car keys.

"Have a good one," she calls her goodbye shortly after I move after the boy.

"You too." I reply, although I'm not sure if it reached her ears or not.

We make quick work of putting away the gear and getting into the car before I turn the key to start the engine and pull out of the parking lot.

[hope-has-hope]

@blairamok 's On Thin Ice AU has completely taken over my mind. Someone send help.

[sparksearcher]

Working on elements for holiday cards and couldn’t resist die cutting ice skates in Good Omens colors

[madcat-world]

On Thin Ice - Boris Groh

[littlebidule]

Ice skatiiing~ ✨

Highly inspired by the On Thin Ice’s AU of the amazing @blairamok (sorry for tagging you again shhshshs—)

(And yes, theses sketches are from january- shush)

[callsign-rogueone]

Hi Liz! What's your novel about, if you don't mind me asking? I really like all of your work so I was just curious to know about your original writing 💝💝

okay hear me out… I know hockey romances have had their moment in the sun and there’s a gazillion of them out there. and don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy a good “brain off” low stakes modern rom com type book occasionally, but this is… not that.

I’m tempted to say it’s less romance and more like. my main two characters unpacking their similar but different trauma together and starting to recover. but there’s some sex in there too for good measure.

the tldr: FMC is a burnt-out retired Olympic figure skater, who is now cheerleading for her brother’s hockey team and teaching learn to skate classes at their rink. MMC is the new guy on the team, moved here from Germany with no family around so they end up hanging out a lot. he is slowly hatching a plan to build her confidence again and get her back into competition because he knows she can do much more than her current job, and that she would be so much happier there. but of course she retired so early for a reason… hehe

I know social media being in a book gives people the ick sometimes, but as their story revolves around news media and fandom interactions, I want to do something similar to how RY has quotes at the beginning of every chapter, and also include some text messages and parts of news articles about the team, especially for FMC’s brother’s book (which will be an mlm romance with a lot of chronic illness representation 🫶🏻)

this is actually where the girlfriendverse idea started — I have a large cast of couples that interact a lot, and each have their own document with their storylines. I’m trying to pick which gfverse couple these two are most like… idk. but MMC is kinda giving Dain and also Brennan in terms of his family dynamics, though he’s very Liam-coded physically and in terms of his sweet personality 💔

anyway yeah! I guess I could share some of it with y’all if you wanted? because I very highly doubt that I’d ever publish this… idk. maybe I’ll finish it someday and put it on amazon as an ebook for 99 cents lmao

[foresttoffee]

@blairamok has the amazing ice skating AU 'On Thin Ice', and I am a sucker for ice skating AUs. And all the amazing art!! So I had to make some of my own, because yus!

I loved that Crowley pushed the social norms with what he wore, so I wanted to do something where in his younger years he competed wearing a fem outfit, only to return years later with a masculine outfit. And yes, I made sure that both included a snake design on them, cause I feel like he would do something like that.

So this is the fem one! Stay tuned to see the masculine version.

[aut1smkid]

❍⌇─➭ welcome to ⌗my blog : ๑ ˚ ͙۪۪̥◌ ⌨꒱

Layout Graphics by @astrivion!

Heya people! I'm Auzie! I'm an artist who likes drawing gay lil objects, or whatever. I'm still in school so I won't post often. I stand with Palestine! Fuck them stupid terrorists. They can burn in hell. No matter what happens to Palestine, I won't stand down. I'll just spring right back up! I want to apologize for the awful situation going on in Palestine right now. No matter what happens I'll always be here for you. I take requests too. They're free. As long as you don't pester the shit out of me, I'll be no problem! Also I like taking my time, so please don't rush me. Also, you can ask me for art requests too. Idc. And I'm into vore. Nonsexual vore! If you're uncomfortable with that please leave this blog!

DO NOT SEND ME DONATION ASKS OR TAG ME IN POSTS TO SAVE YOUR FAMILY!!!! I DO NOT HAVE THE MONEY AND I AM A MINOR!!!

If you wanna commission me, my info can be found here!

COMMS STATUS: OPEN!

Da rulez!

(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧✧ʸᴱˢ

❧Object shows of any kind! I love the osc, and anything to do with the popular ones!

❧Inanimate insanity! Love it so much! I can't stop doodling the characters someone pls stop me (TдT)

❧AUs! Love em or hate em, there's tons to offer!

(」°ロ°)」ᴺᴼ

❧Proships! Nothing to do with them AT ALL!

❧ ( -_•)╦̵̵̿╤─ NSFW!

❧R*cism! No.... Just no.

❧F*tish! Uhhh.... This one's a maybe. Depends on which one, but here a list of the ones I despise. 👇

F*rt

&ss

Infl*tion

T!ckling

f##t l!cking

(*ˊᗜˋ*)ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ

Oh yeah!!! Almost forgot!! Here's the specific inanimate insanity ships I don't like or dni 👇

On thin ice:

Paintyang, Comedygold, Ojphone (idk wtf you call it) Twophone (as long as it's platonic or not very much kissing I'm cool) testcab.

Dni!!!

Silverfan, knifan, Tissyang, trofan, being problematic

Mod A.D.A.M.: He/It/Ver -🍏

Mod B.R.I.A.N.: He/It/Elle -🍰

Mod J.U.S.T.I.N.: They/it/Xe/Honk-🪿

Mod T.A.Y.L.O.R.: He/It/Ey -🦊

Mod B.E.N.(B.E.N.J.A.M.I.N.): He/It/Ae/Fluff -🦞 or 🍉

Mod J.A.Z.Z.Y.: They/She/It -🏳️‍⚧️

Main Mod A.U.Z.I.E.: He/She/It/Purr -🐈 or 🍥

Mod L.I.A.M.: He/She/It -💫 or 🪼

Mod Z.E.E. (Z.A.I.R.A.): She/It -🐝 or 🍌

Mod T.O.R.I. (V.I.C.T.O.R.I.A.): She/It/Dino -🦖 or 🐊

We are minors!!!

NSFW/+18/MDNI dni!!!

Our stamp hoard!!! 👇👇👇

[elenthyaolyenths]

DAY 13 - «On Thin Ice» Good Omens AU - Triptych Tribute for @blairamok

Part 1/3: "Falling Angel" Aziraphale

Please, listen to this

Change everything you are

And everything you were

Your number has been called

Fights and battles have begun

Revenge will surely come

Your hard times are ahead

Don't let yourself down

Don't let yourself go

Your last chance has arrived

Best, you've got to be the best

You've got to change the world

And use this chance to be heard

Your time is now

Falling Angel, your time is now!

(yes I know this Muse song has another sense in the On Thin Ice universe - for Crowley. Well, our Fallen Serpent will show us what IS a true Survival, tomorrow. ;-)

[Previous] [Next Day] [First Day]

Don't forget to 💕/ reblog ;-)

Personal challenge: a simple sketch each day

Goal: forcing me to keep things simple - inking, shading, just a few sashes of colour

Improvement pursued: to get the movement, the emotion, finding how to add depth, learning how to leave things barely finished

Max time allowed: 2 hours, as usual for my Daily Challenges. Well, this is a very special Tribute for me, and I was on a three-days break. So I didn’t really set a timer for the « On Thin Ice » sketches. Plus, I drew them quite in the same time and on the same file to be sure Crowley and Aziraphale would match. I guess I spent more or less 3 hours on the lineart for each one of them (the clothes and the figures needed a lot of time), plus 1h30-2h on the colouring/shading for each one.

Be aware that in my first sketches for this project, Crowley and Aziraphale were supposed to train on the same ice rink, and I dearly wanted Crowley to be watching Aziraphale, and Aziraphale was supposed to glance back to him. I had to give up on this idea later – because the figure I chose for Aziraphale definitely couldn’t allow such a shared glance. (but, hello, it will be a triptyque ! So, guess what? About the third part… :-p)

About Aziraphale, as my « Falling Angel ».

« On Thin Ice » author, @blairamok, describes the Hydroplane ice skating figure as very representative of Aziraphale, and the drawing reference pictures were numerous enough to get some solid inspiration. It’s a complex skating figure. I have watched some ice skating tutorials on YouTube – because I wanted the movement of the clothes and hair to be accurate and, if I understand everything properly, even a slight alteration in the position of the arms can make you fall. Such perfection ! That IS the right move for Aziraphale !

I told sooner on my Gymnast !AU challenge that I appreciated drawing Aziraphale with realistic curves more and more each day – even if it still triggers me sometimes about my own shaming roundnesses. I realised my way of doing art – and my mind too, maybe - was evolving when I got back to check references in the amazing Blair artworks (link AO3). A few months ago, I felt insecure watching Blair’s Aziraphale, which seemed to me too much plump and very soft – not a « good sportive look », I thought then. But now I like him more and more, so maybe my way of thinking is changing, and I think this is for the very best.

My Aziraphale is performing a difficult figure, so he is using all his muscles into maintaining his balance. He seems so statuesque, so powerful, yet very focused and oblivious to the world around him, with his eyes shut. That is why he couldn’t share a glance with my Crowley. T.T

.

Maybe this is my way to guess Aziraphale’s behavior in the so-awaited « On Thin Ice »  next chapters. Focused on his own training, trying to ignore Crowley’s sassyness but still secretly impressed by his partner’s skills. Because they share the same love for Ice Skating, even if they don’t show it in the same way.

Blair, if you ever read this, thank you. For your artworks, for making us dream about a wonderful story that still remains to be told.

Thank you for « On Thin Ice », for your so-kind message last week, and for everything else.

I have faith. I’ll wait for your story. But even if it doesn’t exist yet, I am already dreaming about it, and this is priceless.

[Previous] [Next Day] [First Day]

Don't forget to 💕/ reblog ;-)

[mangobeast]

anthony crowley is up to something unholy

[On Thin Ice]

[sleepless-dreams]

ON THIN ICE

summary: the second chapter of the series. It's now the second time you take your nephew to his hockey practice, looking forward to seeing a certain someone again. Unfortunately, you and the ice rink don't exactly mix well

word count: 1.2k

₊⊹CHAPTER 2⊹₊

The next practice is on Wednesday.

It has been two days since the first time I took Owen to his practice and I can't get the ice rink or the coach out of my head. I knew what I signed up for when I agreed to take Owen to his practice, but it’s still a hard adjustment. Old feelings creep in when my mind wanders back to the times, when it was me in the backseat of a car headed for the ice arena instead of my nephew. And if that isn’t enough, Wanda’s face slips into the gaps, uninvited but not exactly unwelcome.

I’m walking on a razor-thin edge. On one hand, I'm not as hesitant about driving Owen anymore, because it means I get to watch a certain woman coach a bunch of teenagers. On the other, my anxiety spikes every time I near the rink. The cold air, the echo of skates, the chance of seeing her again... It’s not just the nerves from the chance of running into an attractive woman again, it’s the way the rink pulls at wounds I thought had scarred over.

The second practice plays out much like the first. I sit on the bleachers again, though this time I pick a spot far from the man from Monday. And instead of staring at my phone, my eyes flicker between the coach and my nephew.

Watching Wanda on the ice is bittersweet, a beautiful ache I can’t quite shake. She moves flawlessly, with the kind of fluidity only years of devotion can create, and it shows. It’s clear within minutes; not only does she love what she does, but she understands the sport on such a fundamental level that she can pass it down with ease. But the longer I watch–the sharp slice of blades against ice, the practiced turns–the tighter my chest becomes. An invisible weight settles over me, squeezing the breath from my lungs as memories stir. They’re sharp. Good and bad, tangled together until I can’t tell them apart. When it gets too much, I pull out my phone and scroll, mindlessly, until the feeling loosens its grip.

Eventually, the feeling ebbs away just enough for me to function again and I return to watching the practice.

As any other parent who comes to pick up their kid, I come down to huddle around the gateway a few minutes before the practice ends.

But maybe I should’ve stayed on the bleachers.

I should’ve seen it coming. I took such care to avoid the same man from Monday when I sat down on the bleachers, but it completely slipped my mind when I got down from them. He's suddenly next to me, just as persistent, just as irritating. Asking for the same thing he did yesterday. To buy me a drink.

"I’m not really interested, I’m not thirsty." I try to keep my voice polite, but firm.

He doesn't get my message, but he seems to have learned from his Monday’s failure. Before I can slip away, his hand clamps around my arm, halting me in place. Panic flares hot in my chest, sharp and sudden, it doesn't help that my anxiety has been already running high. I tug at my arm, but his grip tightens, fingers digging into my jacket. He doesn’t let go. I’m trapped, his grip unyielding and growing painfully tight with every futile pull. His voice rises, he's demanding now, insisting that I let him buy me something.

My breath is coming in sharp bursts, my free hand curling into a fist. I’m seconds away from swinging at him, anything to make him let go, when a voice slices through the tension.

"What are you doing, Hank?" The voice is unmistakable.

I lift my head just as Hank turns, his hand dropping away from my arm. I step back immediately, putting distance between us and cradle the arm he held protectively to my body.

Wanda stands a few paces away, hands on her hips and a polite smile on her lips. But her eyes are sharp and narrowed, cutting through the space between us. Her gaze shifts from him to me and for just a second, I think I see it soften. It's a fleeting moment, I'm sure I must have imagined it because when I blink, her eyes are zeroed in on Hank with the same intensity they held before.

"We were just chatting." Hank says, failing miserably at sounding convincing.

"I think I saw Ivan leaving the changing rooms. Maybe he's already waiting for you outside." Wanda’s voice carries its usual warmth, but her eyes stay narrowed a little.

Hank gives a curt nod and one last look my way before he begrudgingly heads towards the exit. The moment the door clicks shut behind him, I slump, shoulders sagging with relief.

"Thank you." I breathe, running a shaky hand through my hair.

"What was that about?" Wanda asks and I turn to face her fully.

"It's a long story..." I trail off, giving her more of an excuse than an actual explanation.

She nods toward the exit. "Let me know if he bothers you again. I’ll handle it."

I thank her again, quieter this time, but I manage a small, grateful smile.

"No problem." She replies, returning my smile with one of her own.

There’s a pause, an awkward one. Or it is to me. My anxiety reignites. Between the rink’s looming weight and Hank’s unwanted attention, I’ve had just about enough for one day. With a tight press of my lips and a quick bid of goodbye, I step past her and head towards the lobby.

"Wait up!" she calls after me.

My steps falter, and I turn, looking back at her with a silent question in my eyes. She’s closer now, having taken a few steps after me.

"Can I get your number?" she asks, and for a moment, my world just... stops.

Hope blooms in my chest, as I fight to keep from spluttering. My mind races, dissecting her words. Could she be interested in me? Is that why she’s asking?

"I have contact information for every adult that regularly accompanies the kids, just in case of emergencies," she continues, effortlessly shattering my hopes with her much more practical explanation.

"Ah," is the first thing that falls out of my mouth. I quickly follow it up with, "yes, of course," because I am, at the very least, a civilized person with good manners. I pointedly ignore the disappointment sinking heavily in my chest. I shouldn’t have entertained such thoughts in the first place.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and fumble through unlocking it, failing three times before finally getting it right–all while I'm painfully aware of sharp green eyes watching every slip up.

She’s kind enough not to comment on my fumbling and we exchange numbers in a silence that gnaws at my nerves. I turn off my phone without adding her name to the contact, sliding it back into my pocket as I turn on my heel, ready to escape. But she stops me again, asking to confirm my name. I nod when she gets it right.

With a small wave, I murmur a second goodbye and quickly walk away, berating myself for looking like a complete fool in front of her.

When I step outside, Owen’s already leaning lazily against his stick by the car, his expression unimpressed.

I offer him a sheepish smile and unlock the car for him.

"It always takes you forever to leave and you don’t even have to change out of your gear or pack up!" He complains as he settles into the backseat.

I answer him by cranking up the radio, to which he rolls his eyes and shoves his headphones in.

I allow myself a small smile. This practice was a disaster and my hopes about Wanda’s interest were quickly proven as naive. But, despite it being just for emergencies, exchanging numbers still feels like a tiny victory.

Later in the evening after getting home, I finally add a name to Wanda's number. After some back and forth, her contact now sits under 'coach Wanda ♡'

[kundaquarius]

How we start with an ice skating figure to a mafia employee who ends up fighting with her inner sides to end up transforming into what appears to be the daughter of Heaven's Secret's Mother Universe.

I still find this hilarious and bizarre 😭

[ratanslily]

@romance-club-daily Catherine x dark eyes!

[ladylamrian]

Female Main Character: Catherine Hill

Pairing: F!MC×BrianBaker

Summary: Weeks have passed since Catherine moved in with Brian Baker and his dog, Sam 🐶

Word Count: 1.7K words

Rating: General (Fluff)

Warnings: none

-> My complete On Thin Ice Masterlist <-

Romance Club Fanfiction Taglist: @infactnoimmasitinthemiddle ; @dutifullynuttywitch ; @webanglikethat ; @bri1234 ; @zoeywades-husband ; @rc-catalog

Comments via Reblog wholeheartedly welcome

"Catherine! You're back!!", her brown-haired boyfriend, Brian Baker warmly greeted as she entered their apartment. Yes, their apartment since she recently moved in with him.

"Brian, babe, I'm back!!", she cheered which made Brian blush a little. He loved it when she called him his babe.

"How was ice-skating today?"

"Training was great. Tate and I are practicing a new skill. How was your day, Brian?"

The brown-haired man pulled her closer to himself, wrapping his tattooed arm around her slim waist.

"Boring without you, my kitten. Oh hey, look who came to see us!", he chuckled.

The couple turned their attention towards Sam, the fluffy, 3-year-old dog, who was now wiggling its tail at Catherine, in a playful and very excited manner. The dog was excited to see her. The girl rushed towards the animal, sat on the floor to hug and stroke its fluffy fur.

"Awwww, Sam baby. Catherine is sooo happy to see you too. Yes, yes, who's a good boy? That's youuu.", she sweet-talked.

Brian smiled as he watched his girlfriend interacting with his dog which was somehow cute. His two favorites. As Sam licked her hand with his giant tongue, she giggled and hugged again its soft, fluffy fur.

"So, what are we gonna do today? We could take Sam out for a walk together if you're not exhausted from your training. The weather's nice.", Brian suggested while enjoying such an adorable sight.

"Oh, yes. That's a great idea. Sam, my baby, come here. Come here! Mommy and Daddy want to go outside with you."

The man chuckled affectionately as his girlfriend called herself mommy for his dog. It was adorable and suddenly made him feel butterflies in his stomach.

"Alright, let's go."

The couple continued strolling in a comfortable silence. The cooling breeze was blowing gently over them, ruffling their hair. Every now and then, Sam would run off to the grass and roll around in it for a while, before returning to their owners. After a while, they reached a quiet spot in the park. Brian found a cozy bench under a nearby tree and motioned his girlfriend to sit down. He sat down too and Sam jumped up next to him, resting his head on the man's lap. He looked at her and patted Sam's head, still smiling.

"This is a great spot."

"Yeah."

As Brian glanced at her, he was struck by how beautiful Catherine was, which made his heart flutter. Then he watched as Sam nuzzled against her bare legs, his dark eyes looking up with adoration.

This moment was perfect.

Brian was captivated by Catherine's beauty and gentle nature as she gently stroked Sam's furry head, his tail wagging at her touch. Brian's love for her grew deeper. The soft breeze rustled her golden-blond strands, giving the appearance of flowing on water. The man reached out to take her hand and held it. Feeling a sudden creative jolt, Brian imagined forever capturing this moment as an artist in a painting. The way the sunlight filtered through the tree leaves, the gentle look on her face as she petted his dog. He watched silently, forever committing the scene to memory, hoping to paint it one day.

"Woah, hey!!", his girl screamed as somehow the pet managed to drag her down on the ground with pure intentions, only to cuddle with her. Brian chuckled, leaning forward to pull Catherine back, to help her sit up on the bench.

"Looks like someone wants all the attention today."

"I realized that.", she answered while dusting off her clothes.

"Sorry about him. Sometimes he can be quite demanding for attention."

"That's okay. Who can be mad at such a cute face with adorable puppy eyes? Anything for Sam.", she giggled.

Both looked down at Sam, who was now resting his head on Catherine's lap, his dark eyes looking up at her affectionately.

Brian watched happily as his girlfriend caressed Sam's head, his tail wagging and he closed his eyes in contentment. The animal leaned into her touch, clearly enjoying the affection. Brian smiled, feeling a warm glow within him just by watching her with his dog.

"Oh no! Brian, look!!"

The artist glanced up at the sky as raindrops started falling. He looked at her as his face twisted into a frown.

"Looks like rain. We should probably head back to my penthouse. Let's go."

The couple started running, trying to get home before the rain got heavy. The young man held her hand tightly as they dashed through the rain. Sam followed closely behind us with his fur getting wet.

"Carefully Catherine, try not to slip. We'll be home soon."

After about five minutes, they finally reached the doorstep and burst through the door, panting and drenched from the rain. He closed the door behind them, and the three stood there for a moment, catching their breaths and trying to shake off the water.

Brian studied her intently. Her disheveled blonde hair clung to her face from the rain, and it brought a soft smile to his lips. Despite her messy appearance, he found her adorable. Then, she sneezed.

"Achoo!"

"Bless you, Kate. Looks like you're gonna catch a cold if we don't act immediately. Let's get you out of these wet clothes."

"But first... A kiss."

He smirked and pulled her closer with his hands on her slim waist. He gazed into her ice-blue eyes with full affection.

"Well, how can I refuse a kiss?"

Brian leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle at first, but grew more passionate. His arms wrapped around her petite body, pulling her even closer to him.

"Mmhhh..."

Suddenly, they heard a soft whine from behind them, which made them break apart, giggling. Sam looked up at the couple with big, shining eyes with his head tilted to one side. It seemed he wanted attention too.

Brian chuckled and reached down to pat Sam on the head.

"Looks like someone is feeling jealous."

"We would never forget our big baby.", she sweet-talked, which made Sam bark softly, his tail wagging with joy. The animal now seemed satisfied with the attention it was receiving again. Brian watched Catherine and couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment. Just the three of them together, in the comfort of his home.

Brian gently took her hand and started leading her towards the bathroom.

"Come on, let's get you out of those wet clothes. I don't want you to catch a cold."

He helped her out of her damp clothes, trying his best not to stare too much at the way her outfit hugged her curves and outlined her slim figure, which was sexy and alluring, before removing her clothes, exposing more and more of her skin. For him, she looked absolutely beautiful, even wet and disheveled.

The man felt a wave of desire stirring within him, but he quickly shook his head, reminding himself that right now, her health was the priority.

He smiled as she sneezed again, feeling a mix of concern and amusement.

"You really are catching a cold. Here, let me find you something to wear."

Her partner rushed inside the bedroom, rummaged through the closet, and found a loose-fitting t-shirt and sweatpants. Then he hurried back into the bathroom, so she wouldn't freeze and I handed them to her.

"Thanks, they look comfy."

The man grinned as she slipped into his own clothes. A feeling of commitment while she wore the clothes with his own scent. They were a bit too big on her frame, making her look adorable and cozy.

"They look good on you. Comfortable?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I don't want you freezing."

Then he grabbed a towel and started drying her long hair, gently rubbing it with the towel.

"Thanks, Brian. I still remember last month how I moved in and you have been nothing but caring and generous. Took me in like a lost kitten without a home, gave me a roof under a luxurious penthouse, gave support to my career, and shared your own dog with me. I feel like I don't deserve you. Not with what happened in the past. You risked your life for my mistakes. My dark, depressing past...", she whispered as she got a little emotional.

Brian pulled back a bit so he could look into her arctic-blue eyes.

"You deserve to be loved for who you are, past included. Everyone has flaws, everyone has dark moments. You know mine too. But they're just part of who we are. They don't define us. You're kind, loving, and beautiful, inside and out. And I love you for that. And as for your past? It makes you who you are today. It's made you stronger, but I'm always here for you, through the good and the bad. No matter what, Catherine Hill."

"I love you, Brian Baker."

He smiled warmly at her words and pulled her closer with his hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of wet hair behind her ear.

"I love you too, my kitten. Always."

Then he couldn't help but reach out to touch her face lightly, tracing her rosy cheek with his thumb which made her smile.

"Brian, I..."

Sam's bark interrupted the moment between the young lovers. They looked down at him, his paws pattering on the floor

"Looks like someone's feeling ignored.", he chuckled.

"Hey, Sam!! Look!! I'm wearing Brian's clothes. Do I look great?"

Sam looked up at you with his large, expressive eyes, tilting his head as if he was truly considering the question. Then he let out a soft whine, as if in approval. We smiled at the cute exchange, which made every heart swell with affection.

"Thank you, my little fashion advisor. Mommy and daddy love you too.", she giggled and petted the dog.

Brian laughed softly, amused by her interaction with Sam. It was moments like these that made him love Catherine even more, and the way she treated his dog like your own, like family, with such affection and care. The man couldn't help but feel grateful to have found someone who fit so perfectly into my life.

[ustalochka]