#also the fact that every goal he scores this season could be his last with real madrid 😁😁

[moviestarmartini]

average luka modrić enjoyer whenever he scores

[delfiore]

—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (2/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: you and ona become much closer, but in the wrong way; an offer on the horizon threatens to tear you apart.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: description of collision in football

PART I, PART III, PART IV, PART V

Sports Illustrated: USWNT International Y/N Y/L/N Scores in First Game Back From Injury “Y/N Y/L/N will not stop scoring. The Man City star returns to action with a stunning header in a home game against Everton since picking up an injury this summer in the CONCACAF final against Canada. Though the U.S. emerged victorious thanks to Alex Morgan’s penalty kick, Y/L/N was forced off in the 68th minute with a torn hamstring. She was expected to be sidelined for 3 months. […]”

You skimmed through the article, waiting for your coffee to brew. It has been an arduous few months as you focused on rehabilitation. You were supposed to be match-fit at the start of the season, but the physios determined you needed at least a few more weeks before you could play. Your thigh still felt a bit tight every time you stretched them. Nonetheless, you were back to playing, that was all that mattered.

It was early November, and the winds were picking up in Manchester, and yet you were warm.

“Morning,” you said, smiling at the figure waddling into the living room.

Bratwurst was wagging his tail by her side, no doubt looking for more food as if you hadn’t fed him half an hour ago.

“Good morning,” Ona said, rubbing her eyes.

“Coffee?” You nodded towards the machine.

“No, I have to get to training. Thanks, though.”

“In my shirt?” You smirked at looked down at her top. Sure enough, it was the old T-shirt you lent her after you were done last night.

“Hah hah.” She mocked you, but then took off the shirt, leaving her top half completely bare, and threw it at your face. “Obviously not.”

You let your eyes travel freely, as she went back into your room and returned wearing the clothes she came in last night.

“Looks like you’re back to being your insufferable self.” She walked to where you sat, putting on her necklace. “Can’t even go on social media without seeing people praising your goal.”

“All in a day’s work,” you said, grinning.

Ona rolled her eyes and put on her shoes. “I’m glad you’re back, but I won’t go easy on you.”

You stood up and pecked her lips.

“I never asked you to,” you leaned closer, ducking your face into her neck. “Maybe when we’re alone.”

She snickered quietly and patted your cheek. “Try not to miss me too much. Bye-bye, Bratwurst.”

The pup sat by the door as he watched her close it behind her. Ever since she started spending time at your apartment, it felt like he liked her more, always following her around and snuggling with her as she gave him pets.

Ona had been coming over since the kiss at the end of last season with the premise of meaningless sex. You both had an arrangement, and you were committed to keeping to it. You were surprised when she suggested it, thinking her not to be the type, but Ona continues to surprise you.

You had only meant to meet up over dinner to talk about what happened, but the night ended with her hands tangled in your hair and your legs tangled in her sheets. The ups and downs these past few months never deterred you from seeing each other. In fact, Spain losing out in the Euros prompted her to come over and forget about it for a night. In a way, you both had each other.

Your teammates at Man City were especially amused whenever you’d forget to cover up and come to practice with marks on your neck.

“Who’s the unlucky gal this time, Y/N?”

“Have you been busy while you were injured?”

Every time, you would just shake your head with a grin because you’d never kiss and tell. Also, because Leila and Laia would flip out if they knew you’d been screwing their teammate on the national team.

Your arrangement worked for a while, both of you still too young and too committed to football to think about anything else. While a lot of your colleagues would disagree, it was the excuse you told yourself to fully admit that what you felt for Ona was beyond just carnal desires.

You were treading on dangerous waters, your feelings bubbling to the surface every time you saw the girl. It was much more challenging to keep them under wraps, especially when you had to play against her every couple of months. From what people knew about you two, you were rivals, and that was your relationship. Rumors of a romance surfaced too, amongst younger fans, but it was the result of baseless shipping. If only they knew.

Ona wasn’t an incredibly affectionate person, not by a mile. The only times you would catch her lowering her guard by the tiniest of margins were when she was tired, maybe then she’d let you cuddle her after sex. But you remembered when Spain was knocked out of the Euros way too soon, and she was crying on the phone to you. You had just won the CONCACAF with the US across the Atlantic, and yet all you wanted was to hold her.

And so that was what you did. Two days later, after you were dismissed from your international duties, you flew back to Manchester and waited for her. Ona liked to be the little spoon whenever she was sad, and you were very happy to oblige. If she was feeling generous, she would even thank you for it. As much as you wanted to, you never teased her about it, because you knew what you had was fragile, and a slight mention of it could topple everything to the ground.

That was how it was with your Spanish beauty.

“Wooooooow . . . You’ve got a handful,” said your teammate, Chloe, as she stood in your kitchen, eating your chips.

“Yup,” you pressed your lips thinly, grabbing some seasoning from the cupboard. “That’s my life right now.”

You proceeded to tell Chloe everything one day, omitting a few saucy details, of course.

“Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“That’s the thing, though. There’s nothing to talk about. I can’t just walk up to her and demand something that wasn’t part of the arrangement to begin with.”

“I know, but it’s clearly affecting you. You like her, don’t you?”

“No.” A few seconds of silence followed, and Chloe was looking at you with a glare. “Okay, I think she’s cute, like, really cute.”

“I think you should talk to her, Y/N,” Chloe said. “Worst case scenario, you lot stop whatever you’re doing with each other behind all of our backs. Best case scenario, you date her.”

You smirked, but nothing no usual quippy or smug remark came out. “I should try,” you spoke quietly.

Chloe nodded expectantly and continued eating her chips, now. “I can’t believe it. You tricked all of us! It was Batlle all this time!”

“I didn’t think you’d come tonight,” you whispered quietly into the room, sitting by the edge of your bed.

Ona was under the covers, on her phone. “Why? ‘Cause we played against each other?”

You nodded bashfully.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she set her phone down. “Or did you not want me to come?”

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” You said, gesturing at the clothes strewn on the floor.

You let her study you for a moment, finding the ruffled sheets much more interesting instead.

“What’s wrong?” She said.

“Nothing.”

“You’re too quiet.” Her voice was low and calming. She reached out and caressed your hand. You wanted to bury your face in her neck and be done with the conversation instead.

“I was just wondering . . . would you like to come over a bit earlier from now on?”

Your question made her look at you with a puzzled expression. “Have I been staying too late?”

“No, no. I mean—you can stay as late as you want, but come a bit earlier. I can cook for us, and then we can just sit and . . . talk.”

You fumbled with your fingers, your eyes drifting up to her, seeing the realization dawn on her. She exhaled. “Okay, that sounds nice . . . but as friends, right?”

“Um . . . no?”

“Y/N,” Ona breathed. Her silence was killing you. Finally, she looked up. “That wasn’t our arrangement, and I’d like for it to stay as we’ve agreed. You’re okay with that, right?”

“Yeah,” you lied, caressing her arm and flashing a smile. “It’s for the best.”

She nodded but watched you closely. “Come here,” she whispered.

You obliged, letting her pull you into her embrace. A searing kiss followed, leaving you to straddle her bare waist.

A short gasp left your lips. “Fuck me, Ona.” You pleaded quietly, hoping she’d fuck you until you forget the conversation ever happened. But you also hoped she’d go slow and make love to you, proving that she’d finally reciprocated your feelings.

You’ve decided that you wanted both. Maybe then, you’d finally get what you wanted.

You didn’t know that Ona was scared to let you in too, so she settled for sleeping with you.

You had been an obsession of hers for three years, a game she played besides having to focus on the actual game she was paid to play. But now, here she was—sleeping with someone who could possibly be her mortal enemy. She didn’t know when, but suddenly, she couldn’t bring herself to see you harmed.

She wanted you, but that was the selfish part of her speaking.

In the morning, you had expected her to be there, but your bedside was empty.

Ona moved through her days like a ghost. She didn’t expect it to be this hard three years ago when she first set foot in Manchester. She didn’t expect a forward to make her life this hard, or that she would fall in love with you. Every minute she spent tangled up in bed with you were minutes where nothing else outside that bedroom mattered, and it scared her.

It scared her that only you could make her feel that way, that something she had spent so hard working towards for herself, you did so easily for her.

She thinks of the nights after the Euros when she practically stayed over all day, and how you took care of her. She thinks of the cheeky winks you would send her way whenever she played against you, and the not-so-innocent brushes that you sneak in whenever she defended you. She think of your face when she shut you down, and how quickly your walls came back up.

She thinks of you the entire time she was on the Zoom call with her agent.

“You need to decide soon, Ona,” her agent had told her. “Barcelona doesn’t wait for anyone.”

It was a no-brainer, but she thinks of you all the time.

The referee blew the whistle and the 90 minutes were over. You collapsed on your knees as the Etihad erupted into cheers. Man City had reached the semifinals of the Women’s Champions League for the first time ever in the history of the women’s club. You would be playing Wolfsburg next, but you couldn’t care less about that right then. You just wanted to celebrate with your teammates.

You wished that you could celebrate with Ona too.

You sent her a text much later in the night, but she didn’t respond. Thinking it to be too late for her to come over, you went to bed, soaking in your victory.

But then, she didn’t respond the next day, then the day after that. A week later, she still hadn’t responded. Then the first leg of the semifinal came, and City drew 2-2 to Wolfsburg. You had given her space to deal with whatever she didn’t want you to know and knew double-texting made you look desperate, but you have had enough of the silence.

A vote of confidence would have been nice Sent 4:29pm

Nothing.

You weren’t going to put your life on hold for her. You wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.

The week of the return leg, you had almost forgotten all about Ona from the amount of training you were doing.

“Okay, ladies. Gather around,” said Chris, the assistant coach. “This will be our last practice session before the Champions League game. We’re gonna do some passing to start with, then a set-piece practice, and we’ll close off with a 5v5 scrimmage. That sound good?”

You were starting to feel more confident than jittery. Your movements were sure and steady, so were your finishes. Big games never deterred you, but it was the added fact of Ona not responding to your text that caused you to check your phone every time you were able to.

“No phones, Y/N,” Chris said, and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, Coach. Just checking news from family,” you lied. He extended his hand anyway, and you begrudgingly handed your phone over.

“I can’t have you distracted, Y/N. The match is tomorrow.”

“I know, I know. I’ve been good, though, haven’t I?” You grinned, taking a swig of water.

Practice ended later than scheduled, but you didn’t mind. You needed the extra preparation, and you were glad to have done that with your teammates. Chris finally gave you your phone back, like a naughty student, and you quickly checked your messages. Still nothing. It wasn’t like this was the biggest game of your life or anything.

Going to the news, flipping through articles upon articles on politics, your eyes landed on one about sports.

The Busby Babe: Ona Batlle Set For Barcelona Return “Manchester United and Spain star right back Ona Batlle is reportedly on the verge of completing a move back to Catalonia, rejoining Barcelona Femeni at the end of her contract with the Red Devils. […]”

The match of your life started. You were on the left wing as you always were, playing inverted so Laia would be running the flank. You scored one, but Wolfsburg got one back towards the end of the first half.

“Make those runs, ladies. If you see them coming at you, call out to your teammates. Use the third man to break free of the defense.” Gareth pointed at the board, showing hypothetical scenarios that the team could exploit for an opening.

“Hey,” Chloe sat next to you, her forehead glistening. “You alright?”

You uttered a small ‘yeah’ and closed your hand over her sweat-clad one over your knee. You couldn’t be distracted. You owed it to Chloe and everyone else on this team.

You were slamming your fist on the door, but you didn’t care. Your jaw clenched as you swayed on your feet waiting for her to open up.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You stepped into her apartment.

Her face went pale. “How did you know?”

You let out a laugh. “You’re pathetic. You’re a coward for not even saying a single word.”

The ball was sent over long from deep aiming towards you. You called for Filippa for a one-two, but once you dribbled, you were tackled inside the box. You put your hand up at the referee but huffed in disbelief when she only shook her head and granted a corner.

Slapping your hand on the grass, you sprung up with a grunt. It must have looked like you were throwing a tantrum, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to win.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“So you were just not gonna say anything at all?! You owe me that much to—”

“I don’t owe you anything, Y/N.” She snapped. She had never snapped at you before, not while off the pitch. “You know what we have is just sex. That’s all we ever had and that’s all we will ever have.”

Tears formed in your eyes. You felt like a kid again, being scolded and taken for granted. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but this isn’t some fantasyland,” Ona said firmly. “I told you what I wanted, and I thought you agreed.”

There was a period of struggle over the ball soon after, mostly in midfield. You were growing increasingly frustrated as passes continued being cut off just before they reached the attacking third.

“Come on, guys! Let’s finish this!” You called out to your teammates in an attempt to hype them up before a throw-in.

Your irritation mounted, but you told yourself to quickly snap out of it. I need to stay calm, my team needs me. It proved quite difficult when Lena Oberdorf slithered up from behind to mark you. She dug an elbow into your back to keep you at bay, and when you moved, she moved. So you pushed back, much harder than you anticipated. It set her off. Good, stay off me.

Soon, you heard the ref’s hurried whistle, as Lena shoved you back. “The fuck are you pushing for?!” Your opponent seethed, getting all up in your face to challenge you.

You were feeling bold, so you smirked at her. “Come closer, see what I’ll do. Or do you just want a piece of this, huh?”

It wasn’t your best quality, you admitted it, but you liked it when you set off an opponent. You didn’t care when Lena was hurling insults at you in German as she was being led away. What mattered was that you had gotten in her head, and it would be much easier to break her defense from now on. The referee blew her whistle again, and a few teammates of yours attempted to separate you from Lena.

“Sei ruhig, Mann. Bleib’ da drüben.” Be quiet, man. Stay over there. Waving at her dismissively, you saw the way her eyes looked like they would pop out of her sockets in fury, knowing she didn’t expect you to know German. You couldn’t help but feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

“Last warning, Y/L/N.” The referee warned before continuing the match.

There would always be one player that completely drove the opposition crazy, and you would gladly be that asshole, so your teammates wouldn’t have to. You wanted to win.

“You kissed me first. I thought . . .”

“Please, don’t make this any harder than it already is,” Ona said quietly.

“I thought we had something, Ona,” you tried to steady your voice. You knew you sounded pathetic, but you never believed Ona could betray you in such a way.

She only pressed her lips thin. “We don’t. The only thing we have is our arrangement and however you feel about me on the pitch.”

Bunny scored in the 75th minute, and that would be the last goal for City in this match. The game went to extra time, and you could feel your teammates getting tired and sloppy in possession. You were tired too, but you wanted to keep fighting, anything to keep the thought of Ona out of your head.

You were so focused on the ball that you didn’t see a defender coming up beside you, her body colliding with yours in an attempt to redirect the ball. You fell to the ground with a thud, the stinging impact beginning to spread across your back. You felt the wind getting knocked out of you, your vision beginning to fade until all you could see were the lights atop the stadium, until those faded too.

The next thing you knew, you were on your side. Then the uncomfortable pain in your gut started to become more apparent, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore. You gasped for air, just as a couple of your teammates knelt beside you.

“Y/N, can you hear me? Medic!” You heard a voice almost like Demi’s call out.

You didn’t know who knocked into you, you didn’t care anymore, because you had the overwhelming urge to throw up whilst still struggling to breathe.

“Can’t . . . breathe,” you wheezed out, tears starting to fill your eyes. You wanted to go home.

One of the medics shone a flashlight in your eyes. “Pupils are PEARL,” she said. “Okay, I need you to try and take deep breaths for me, alright, darling?”

You drew a shaky breath. There was a wheezing noise, in and out. In and out. The more you did, the easier it got. Your head was dizzy when you stood up, just as you heard applause ringing throughout the stadium.

Chloe appeared in front of you and offered her arm while a medic took your other as you walked toward the sideline.

“You’re alright, love,” she flashed you a warm smile and wiped away the stray tear that lingered on your cheek.

It was much too unfortunate, because you still had a lot more to give, but you were done for the night. Gareth knew it too, so he sent Hempo in to take your place.

You finally let the tears fall freely when the final whistle came.

“When do you leave?”

“In two weeks.”

A scornful laugh escaped you that you didn’t even bother to hide. “You didn’t even have the decency to tell me, not as your booty call, but as your friend.”

But you were kidding yourself. You knew Ona and you were never friends, never quite lovers either. Only two people floating around in a sexual limbo who were too scared to admit to themselves what was right in front of them. Now she was leaving, and you would never get the chance.

It didn’t matter anymore, any of it. You had a Champions League semifinal to play.

ESPN: Wolfsburg Grabs Victory in Extra Time to Reach Women’s Champions League Final “[…]”

a/n: it was so heartwarming to see the support for jenni and the players :’) it’s abt fuckin time man let’s hope this continues until rubiales and vilda’s resignation

[stereax]

Waivers: The Basics

Having noticed that many of my mutuals, as well as hockeyblr at large, are unsure of what exactly the NHL's waiver system means and how it works, I've endeavored to write up a little bit of a primer on waivers to make it easier to understand. Meet me under the cut to learn more!

What are waivers?

Put most simply, waivers are a process that occurs when a team says to a player, "We don't want you in the NHL anymore, we're sending you to the AHL". Because of the CBA's (Collective Bargaining Agreement) Article 13, before they can do this, they have to put the player on the waiver wire, which is essentially a 24-hour-long period where any other team that wants that player to play for them in the NHL can claim them. The purpose of the waiver wire is to ensure that teams don't unfairly stash NHL-caliber players in the AHL, thereby paying them lesser salaries (this is the most important part - AHL salaries are generally about a tenth of NHL salaries) and not allowing them to play NHL games. Players that may not be getting a fair shot on one team can move to another, where they can be used more effectively - for instance, Eeli Tolvanen was waived by Nashville, picked up by Seattle, and now plays a key role on Seattle's third line. In fact, he scored Seattle's first-ever goal in the playoffs!

What happens once a player is put on the waiver wire?

If another team claims the player, they are claimed on waivers and are transferred to the other team. Notably, the other team must have the appropriate cap and roster space necessary to claim the player. An example here is Kasperi Kapanen, who was placed on waivers by Pittsburgh and was claimed by St Louis. His cap hit of $3.2m may have been prohibitive for other teams who could have wanted to claim him.

If multiple teams try to claim the player, the player goes to the team that submitted a claim which is the worst in the standings - if it's before November 1st of a new season year, it goes to the team that finished worst in the standings the year before, but if it's after November 1st, it goes to the team that is currently worst in the standings. Take Lassi Thomson, who was placed on waivers by Ottawa and claimed by Anaheim. If, for example, Toronto also submitted a claim, they would not have been awarded Thomson, as Anaheim has the worse standing.

If no other team claims the player, they clear waivers. When they do so, they can be reassigned to the NHL team's affiliate AHL team. Notably, not everyone who clears waivers is immediately reassigned - a player who clears waivers can stay with the NHL team instead (for example, if another player just got injured). They can be sent down to the AHL at a later time - they do not have to go through the waivers process again if they have played less than 10 NHL games (cumulative) or been on the roster for less than 30 days (cumulative) from the last time they cleared waivers. This can be used to a savvy GM's advantage to avoid putting players on the waiver wire.

Why is everyone getting waived right now?

At the beginning of the preseason, every player with an NHL contract, whether it be one-way (NHL only) or two-way (NHL and AHL), is invited to that team's training camp. This places them on the NHL preseason roster for that team. As training camp goes on and players get cut, they then must pass through waivers to go to the AHL. Unless, of course, they're waiver exempt.

What is waiver exemption and why is it important?

So you might already have noticed an issue with the waiver system - it's terrible for younger players. If solely the waiver rules we've discussed above existed, every player being sent to the AHL would have to go through waivers. This would include prospects who are signed to an NHL ELC (entry-level contract) but didn't make the cut for the season. Obviously, this is bad for teams - imagine drafting players who you know will be good for you in 2 or 3 years and then losing them all to the waiver wire. This is why waiver exemption exists.

Waiver exemption, to keep it simple, is a protection that certain players have that means they do not have to go through the waivers process to be reassigned to the AHL. The specific details of waiver exemption are a little complicated - let's take a look at the table to make it make more sense.

This table is either/or and is defined by the age when their NHL ELC was signed. A skater who signed their ELC as an 18-year-old is waiver exempt for either 5 years or 160 games played (including playoff games) at the NHL level. A skater who signed at 21 is exempt for either 3 years or 80 NHL games. Goalies have different requirements than skaters because they generally take longer to develop and don't play as many games.

There is a fairly common misconception that all players on their ELCs are automatically waiver exempt. This is false. The second a player hits the amount of games played for their age, they are immediately no longer waiver exempt. Usually, this doesn't occur until after the ELC is over, as most ELC players deal with injuries and healthy scratches, as well as not generally being given the reins to play on the NHL roster for the entire season. One notable example that disproves the "ELC means waiver exempt" conception is Dawson Mercer from New Jersey. Mercer signed his ELC as a 19-year-old in December of 2020. He has played all 82 games in the past 2 seasons (2021-22 & 2022-23) plus 12 playoff games for a total of 176 NHL games played. Under the games requirements, he is now no longer exempt from waivers, despite having one whole year left on his ELC.

For the 25+ category, upon playing a single NHL game, the player is waiver exempt for that entire season and that entire season only. Andrei Kuzmenko from Vancouver is a good example of that - last season, he signed his one-year ELC with Vancouver as a 27-year-old and could have been sent to the AHL at any time without going through waivers. (He was not, needless to say.)

There is one very important exception to the table: if an 18- or 19-year-old player plays 11 or more games with an NHL team in a single season, their waiver exemption is automatically cropped. For that season, and the next two, the player is waiver exempt, but after that, they are no longer exempt. This extends to the next three if the player in question is a goalie and not a skater. (To make it easier to understand, it's as if they jumped into the 20-year-old category.) However, 18- and 19-year-old prospects generally only play 9 games maximum at the NHL level in order to allow for the entry-level slide, allowing the contract to "slide" forward a year, letting teams keep the player on the ELC for an extra year and thus save money.

Are there any other ways a player can play in the AHL without going through waivers or being waiver exempt?

Yes, actually! There are two main exceptions - they're for conditioning loans.

First, what is a conditioning loan? A conditioning loan is a short-term reassignment to the AHL. There are two types of conditioning loans: the standard conditioning loan and the LTIR conditioning loan.

A standard conditioning loan, specified under the CBA 13.8, occurs when a player agrees to head down to the AHL for a few games to "wipe off the dust" on their game, so to speak. They're often used by players who have ended up as perennial healthy scratches on their NHL teams, so that they're able to jump in if there's an injury or other issue. Standard conditioning loans can last up to 14 days. One example of a standard conditioning loan is Shane Wright, who was sent to the AHL by Seattle very early in the season for conditioning, partially to bypass the requirement that the NHL has with the major junior CHL that would have required him to go back to the CHL were he officially reassigned from Seattle. Another is Nathan Beaulieu, who was sent to the AHL by Anaheim in January for a four-game stint.

An LTIR conditioning loan, specified under the CBA 13.9, occurs when a player coming off of LTIR agrees to head down to the AHL for a few games to "wipe off the dust" on their game, so to speak. These loans can only last 6 days or 3 games, whichever comes later, and the idea is to be able to figure out whether a player is able to return to form or requires more time to heal properly. For example, Travis Dermott was sent to the AHL by Vancouver in December to evaluate whether he was back to form after a concussion sustained in the preseason. He played one game in the AHL, then drew back into Vancouver's lineup for eleven games before going back on IR for the rest of the season due to the concussion repercussions. Notably, a team can only use one LTIR conditioning loan for each time a player is on LTIR.

What is emergency recall and why does it make a player waiver exempt?

Emergency recall occurs when a player on a team's NHL lineup is injured and the team can no longer ice a full squad because of it. (As a reminder, each team must carry 12 forwards, 6 defensemen, and 2 goalies. Usually, teams keep an extra forward and defenseman around as a healthy scratch in case of injuries, but some teams are pressed against the cap and cannot carry extra players.) In this case, they can call an AHL player (or multiple, at times) up on an "emergency" basis to fill in during the time that the NHL player is out. Once the NHL player is healthy again, the AHL player can either be transferred to a regular recall or gets sent down to their AHL team again. One example here is Akira Schmid, who was bouncing back and forth between Utica and New Jersey on emergency recalls every few weeks because Mackenzie Blackwood, one of New Jersey's two goaltenders, was constantly getting hurt.

It makes sense, then, why emergency recall would grant a player temporary waiver exemption status - it would be awful to have to recall a player from the AHL, have them in the NHL for a little bit, and then have to send them through waivers and get claimed when your roster player is healthy. However, if an emergency recall player plays in at least 10 NHL games, he loses his waiver exempt status under emergency recall (other forms of waiver exemption still apply).

What are unconditional waivers?

Unconditional waivers are different from regular waivers in what they do. Passing through unconditional waivers does not send you to the AHL. Instead, they are used by teams that want to buy out or terminate players' contracts, completely giving up their rights to the players. Players placed on unconditional waivers are almost never claimed because of this - only two players have ever been claimed off unconditional waivers.

Okay, hold on - what's the difference between a buyout and a termination?

A termination occurs when a player's contract is terminated. The player severs all ties to a team and does not continue to be paid by the team. The team does not incur any cap penalties from termination. There are two main types of termination.

The first type of termination is mutually-agreed-upon termination. In the case of Filip Zadina, who was recently terminated by Detroit, he made it clear that he would refuse to report to the AHL after being sent down on regular waivers. The team and Zadina then proceeded to terminate the contract so that Zadina would be free to negotiate a contract with another NHL team instead of playing for Detroit's AHL team, and so that Detroit would not incur any cap penalties from buying out Zadina. Another example is Lukas Sedlak, whose contract was terminated by Philadelphia when he made it clear to the team that he wanted to return to Europe to play. Philadelphia put Sedlak on unconditional waivers, terminated the contract, and Sedlak soon returned to his native Czechia to play for Pardubice.

The other, rarer type of termination is for material breach. Material breach termination is exemplified by Alex Galchenyuk, whose contract was terminated by Arizona after they became aware of the intoxicated driving incident involving Galchenyuk. Essentially, material breach is used when players are acting illegally, either against the law of the United States/Canada, or against the terms of their contract. The reason these terminations are so rare is twofold: Not only are hockey players generally going to try to avoid breaking the law, when they do, the player's association is usually going to investigate and file appeals and the like to try to secure their players the highest possible settlement despite the termination (and set a precedent so other teams are not encouraged to terminate contracts for material breach).

On the other hand, a buyout occurs when a player is released by a team, but the player continues to be paid by the team as per their contract. The team incurs cap penalties from buyouts - 1/3 of the contract value if the player is younger than 26 at the time of the buy-out, 2/3 of the value if the player is 26 or order. This penalty is spread across double the years left on the contract.

An aside - this is also where the idea of a "buyout-proof" contract comes in. A buyout-proof contract contains most of the salary being paid in the form of signing bonuses, which are paid in full even if the contract is bought out. (These contracts are also considered "lockout-proof", as, again, the signing bonus must be paid even if there is a lockout and no hockey is being played.) As an example of this, take a look at Auston Matthews's extension:

If the Leafs try to buy this contract out, they'd have to pay Matthews the entirety of the signing bonuses as well as 2/3 of the base salary, making the cap savings incredibly marginal and just not worth it to buy out. Thus, it's buyout-proof.

Is that everything I need to know about waivers?

I think so! If you have any other questions, please drop me a line in my inbox or via DMs - I'll be happy to explain more to you! :D

[player1064]

If you're still doing prompts: I just saw the rooney pic set and the beckham with carra and just either of Carraville being a hot commodity? Other people having crushes or being into them? And maybe them being obvious because they only have eyes for each other or so? Or being possessive

alright lads I am BACK (the essay uh. dont even worry about it.) I've been distracted from drabbles with a) my beville wip which is getting. long. and b) making a gary character thesis statement video which is also getting. LONG.

Anyway I was gonna do a Gary half to this (w/ Stevie and Michael Owen) but it's already at like 1.2k words with just the Jamie ones so if anyone wants me to write the Gary half u will simply have to send more asks adksjfkjdasfsvdsa...

---

Wayne is young, and excited, and he’s scoring a lot of goals.

England is fantastic, it’s a break in the routine, a chance to play with new people. A chance to prove to the whole world that he’s the best there is, that there’s more to the buzz around him than just talk. And there’s so many United players in the squad, there’s no fear of feeling lost or out of his depth.

Except, the United players are all senior United players, that little gang of Phil, Butty, Scholesy, and of course their ringleader Gaz.

Gaz is great, but Wayne has to put up with him every day of his life and he’s not sure he can stomach spending his free time at England camp listening to his ranting when he could be doing literally anything else.

The first time he’d been called up he’d still been with Everton, and being the only player at the club to get in the squad he’d not known anyone when he got to training camp. The Liverpool lot – or rather, Jamie Carragher and his less enthusiastic mates – had adopted him, but now just a few months later everything is different, because now he plays for Manchester United.

It’s stupid, really. The club rivalry stuff. The ‘stick with your own teammates’ stuff. David Beckham doesn’t play for United anymore, but he’s still sat at their table every day, saying stuff that’s not even that funny but that makes Gaz do this stupid over the top laugh that Wayne never hears at any other time.

Gaz’ll have a go at him for it, but he’d rather go sit with Stevie and Carra.

They’re sat at a small table in the canteen, just the two of them and Mo. Except Carra’s not sitting next to Mo like he did last season, there’s no easy banter flowing between any of them. Wayne ignores the tension, or maybe he just doesn’t notice it, and he takes the long awaited opportunity to sit right next to Carra.

Gaz likes to complain about the Scousers, and about Carra in particular. He can’t stand him, thinks he’s after his position in the squad or something, like anyone would want to be a right-back. Last time they’d played Liverpool, Gaz had sat in the dressing room moaning about how Carra was a ‘pathetic little whiny bitch’ and how ‘he’s the most miserable looking footballer I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting’.

Wayne’s not sure where Gaz is getting that from, he’s always thought Carra was quite nice. Friendly, even.  And he smells nice, which is unrelated but feels like it’s worth mentioning.

Even now that Wayne’s at one of his club’s biggest rivals, he still gives him a little smile and an “alright, Wazza?”

There’s a little flutter in his chest, and he grins back. “hiya, Carra. How’s things in Liverpool?”

Carra squints at him. “Did Neville send you over to spy on us?”

*

David is under a lot of pressure.

This was meant to be his last tournament, one last chance for him to finally do it, and now he’s sat in the dugout and every newspaper in the world is asking what his job is meant to be, exactly. He’s not a coach, his latest injury ruled him out of the squad months ago, but he’s still here, and everyone is still watching.

It’s weird, to be away with England and not have Gary by his side. He’s in a hotel in South Africa and he should be going out, enjoying the fact that for once he doesn’t have to be fit to play, but instead he’s staring at the door wishing Gary would walk through and complain about something.

It’s probably not fair to say that he misses Gary (you’re the one who left, you prick), but well – he does miss Gary. He always misses Gary. It’s a world cup, he should be here.

If he’d known, four years ago – if he’d known. He’d’ve done better, tried harder. But what thirty year old thinks they’re at the end of their international career?

So he’s here, now. He’s not a player, not a coach, he’s just David Beckham. Apparently that’s enough. The squad is changing, shifting into something unrecognisable. The senior players don’t bother with the club rivalry thing so much anymore, there’s not enough of them from each club to really justify it. So at lunch he sits with Frank and JT and Gerrard. And Carragher, who’s not got enough caps to really be a senior player at England, but who’s too old now to count as anything else. He’s always around, anyway – sticks to Gerrard like his shadow.

And sometimes – sometimes, David finds himself looking.

He’s all alone out here. He’s under a lot of pressure.

It’s been years, since he’s done anything like that. Four years, in fact. And it’s not that he’s just substituting one defender for another, but he sees a lot of Gary in Jamie. Always cross about something, always moaning. Always pushing himself in training as hard as he possibly can, always pushing the others to do the same.

And he’s not bad to look at, either. Though David’s not sure if that’s a point in his favour or not, he’s always had a bit of a soft spot for the awkward, ugly ones. Or maybe just for that one specific awkward ugly one.

He’s not quite sure how to broach the subject, spends a few days agonising over it before deciding to just get on with it and go knock on the man’s door.

Carragher squints at him when he opens the door. “Does the manager need me for somethin’?” he asks cautiously, like maybe he’s not sure what David’s job is meant to be either.

“Nothing like that, just wondered if we could talk.”

Carragher doesn’t respond, just crosses his arms and waits for David to talk.

“Um, I was thinking more like – in your room?” he says, trying to load as much meaning as he can into the words since Carragher seems a bit slow on the uptake.

Carragher waves him in and he walks ahead to sit on the end of the bed.

“If this is about that fight I had with your mate a few weeks ago, he’s the one who fuckin’ started it.”

“I – what?”

David’s not quite sure when Jamie would have had opportunity to fight any of his mates, or even which mate he might mean – they don’t exactly run in the same circles.

“I swear, he’s always in the referee’s ear, mouthy cunt.”

Ah. Gary.

He wonders when the last time United played Liverpool was. He wonders when the last time was that he asked Gary how a game went.

“We have nothing to do with the referees,” he says automatically, before remembering that he’s not really part of the we anymore, hasn’t been for a long time.

“Yeah, yeah. Well tell your little boyfriend that if he still ‘as a problem he can say it to my face, but it was his man who dived, not mine.”

“That wasn’t why I – you know what, never mind.”

[tkachuckycheese]

on the line

summary: when the flames season comes to an end, you’re confronted with the emotions of your break-up with matthew, in more ways than one. 

word count: 1.7k

warnings: kinda angsty, mentions of kissing 

note: my first fic on hockeyblr, also my first one in years since my 1d fanfic days (lol)!! basically, this is a combo of my emotions from the flames elimination from the playoffs last night AND the potential of matthew having played his last game as a flame........... but let’s not talk more about it. there is maybe a more smutty addition to this but we shall have to seeeee..... let me know your thoughts friends, i would love to hear them!

~

You’re clutching the red jersey so tightly you're certain the seams are coming apart. You might not even be breathing. You sucked in a breath when the overtime goal was scored, and you haven’t been able to let it out quite yet. 

You pace up and down your living room, back and forth, from the couch to the kitchen. You wish you’d gone to the game with the girls, because at least you’d have someone to calm you down. Many of them had asked you to, but you were worried you’d run into him. If you were there now, you would be able to know if he was okay. You could comfort him, tell him it wasn’t his fault and everything was going to be okay. 

On your TV, they show the team giving the fans one last final salute before heading off the ice. He’s the first one down the tunnel, moving so fast and with his head tipped down that the cameras can’t catch him. But you don’t need to see his face to know what it looks like. He left everything on the ice tonight, and this is going to be a big deal for him. This is soul crushing for him. He’s going to be a fucking mess. Despite what happened between the two of you, your heart breaks for him. 

Is this my fault? 

You hate yourself for even contemplating that question. He made you break up with him. He is responsible for his own failures, and for your broken heart. Maybe karma decided to take this moment to unleash all the hurt and pain you wished on him when you broke up. But if he hadn’t decided your relationship was an “unnecessary distraction”, then there would be no reason for karma to kick his ass. Despite the fact that he had reached out many times since the break-up, asking to talk and saying he missed you, you hadn’t responded. Your emotional capacity had reached its limit, and you were still putting the pieces of yourself that he had broken back together.

You sigh and head into the kitchen, busying yourself with making dinner. Your diet had been shit since the breakup and now that you were trying to get through this instead of wallowing in the pain, you were trying to make a conscious effort. 

A couple hours later, you were on the couch, still trying to convince yourself to change the channel, but you just couldn’t. It was like a train wreck. The highlight reel had played through multiple times already, with the panel discussing each and every hit and miss from the playoff series. The general consensus seemed to be that he, in particular, beared a lot of the responsibility for the team’s loss and playoff elimination. You roll your eyes at the panelists’ opinions of him, while simultaneously wishing you could smack him and hug him at the same time. But you’ll get to do neither because you’re not in his life anymore. 

They’d switched to discussing a different series, and you were about to rewind and watch the highlights again to indulge your heart’s masochistic tendencies when the doorbell rings. Your heart skips and you immediately mute the television. You try to listen to the front door for who it could be, especially since it’s late and you’re not expecting anyone. 

It rings again. 

You stand up and walk gingerly towards the front hall. Your floorboards creak and you flinch–as if the serial killer on the other side of the door can hear it and has started sharpening his machete. 

“Y/N, it’s me.” 

You gasp. Because it can’t be. But when you go on your tiptoes and look through the peephole, there he is. Well, there’s the top of his curly head of hair. He tips his head up for a second and you glimpse those deep grey eyes and full mouth. 

Holy shit. 

You take a deep breath to calm yourself. There’s nothing about this that’s good, you remind your pounding heart as you open the door. He’s slouched over, but as soon as his eyes land on mine, he pulls himself up to almost his full height. Maybe it’s the pain of defeat makes it impossible to get that slump out of his broad shoulders entirely, and really, you can’t fault him for that. 

You fight to hold his gaze. It’s hard because it’s so angry–and desperate. You’ve never seen him look like this, not in the last seven years you’ve known him, not when you broke up, not ever. And because you’re still so completely in love with him, it hurts to look at him. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Matthew, what are you doing here?” you ask without letting him inside. “Don’t you have post-game stuff you need to do?” 

“It’s all done. The series is done. The season is done,” he replies, flicking his eyes to the ground and back up to yours. “Can I please come in?” 

“Why?”

“Because.” 

He’s wearing a pair of training paints and a Flames hoodie. It’s pulled tight across his wide chest. His hair is still wet from the shower. The whole team probably didn’t bother with suits after the game. They probably just wanted to get the fuck out of there. And he came straight to you. 

“Because why?” You countered harshly. 

“Let me in, Y/N.” 

It’s not a question. He doesn’t really ask anyone for anything. He tells them. Matthew’’s always got to be in charge and no one ever denies that. 

You tighten your grip on the door and move to shut it in his face, but he steps right into it. His palm makes a loud smacking sound against the wood, and then he’s pushing. Hard. You lose your grip on the door and it flings open. He steps over the threshold and right up into you. 

Without an ounce of hesitation, Matthew grabs your face roughly in his big hands and forces his mouth over yours. You pound his shoulder with your fist and wedge your hand in between you to try to pry you apart, but you can’t break his hold on you. It’s like a sparrow tangling with an eagle.

His tongue sweeps right into your mouth and you think briefly about biting down on it, but it feels so damn good. You grab the fabric of his hoodie and ball it up in your hand. He starts walking backward, pushing you back into the living room. The side of the archway clips your shoulder, but he keeps pushing. When your legs hit the back of the sofa and you lose your balance, you shove him harder and this time Matthew takes a step away. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream. 

“I’m showing you I still care the only way left to show you,” Matthew says, his voice strained and loud. “I’ve tried calling, texting, I’ve used social fucking media and so now here I am. Physically showing you.” 

You storm past him, back into the hall to the open door. He turns to keep his eyes on you but doesn’t move to follow. He may be stunned and angry, but he’s still not going anywhere. You reach out and wrap your hand around the door again. “I told you, I’m no one’s silly little distraction or fling. You don’t get to come in here like a petulant child and just claim me like a consolation ribbon after you lose at hockey.” 

His body is rigid, his shoulders creeping up to his earlobes the longer you rant, getting more and more tense. But you don’t care. You’re not in his life anymore. 

“Y/N, I think about it every single day, how messed up it all was, how much I fucked up. I don’t like myself since you left. I never should have made you leave like that.” 

You try to take a breath, but it’s ragged. “Matthew, you’re just emotional over the end of your season.” 

“I did everything I could for this fucking team.” His voice is low and deep and shaky with rage. 

“Yeah. You did. So let it go,” you reply tersely. “They lost in spite of you, Matthew, not because of you.” 

He doesn’t answer. He walks towards you, his shoulders slumped in defeat again. This time, he stops a polite distance from you and keeps his hands to himself. 

“I just can’t handle the fucking pressure. I can’t carry this team, and I can’t keep putting this brave face on. I don’t know what else to do,” he admits, and you know it’s nothing he’s ever said to anyone else and nothing that he ever will. 

His dark eyes meet yours. They’re so sad they make your heart ache. He takes a few steps towards the door, and as he does, he chokes out, “I am so sorry.” 

As he steps through the door, you put a hand on his shoulder and flick your wrist, causing the door to fly from your hand and slam shut. “You try to control everything and when you can’t, when something knocks you on your ass unexpectedly, you give up or hide. You’re a coward.” 

His chest tightens under your hand. “I was a coward. I’ve been one this entire time, but I’ve been trying to change. I fucked up, but I’m still trying. But I need you. I need you because you make me want to be better.” 

“You need me?” you repeat. God, you wanted to believe it, you really did. You had read his pleading texts, listened to the voicemails, even seen the Instagram post he’d made of a photo of the two of you, simply captioned “Miss this girl.” You’re just so scared to trust him again. You know he can’t do anything else to get you back. You had both walked out on each other, but neither of you had truly moved on. 

It hits you so hard, you let out a shudder. You either have to believe Matthew or you have to let him go. 

And the only thing that terrifies you more than forgiving him is losing him. 

So you take a ragged breath and you whisper, “Prove it.” 

[pacific-coast-hockey]

mod's awake past midnight bc he ate sugar too late, we are curating nick cicek debut quotes from sjhn articles i've had up in tabs for like three days!!!

from this sjhn article:

Those nerves were noticeable in the opening period, as Cicek fanned on a pass he was attempting to send up the boards to Nico Sturm. Instead, Jack Eichel picked it off, and soon after was able to score the opening goal of the game. Though not an ideal start for Cicek, his teammates immediately looked to pick him up on the bench.

“Pretty much the whole room came up to me and said ‘Don’t worry about it, you had a good first period with your NHL debut.’ They said mistakes happen all the time,” Cicek explained. “I mean it wasn’t my first mistake and it’s not going to be my last mistake. It’s going to happen, but I think I rebounded from that and kept going, and the boys definitely helped me out with that.”

"it wasn't my first mistake and it's not going to be my last mistake." GOD he's so levelheaded and sure of himself. and:

A debut of which he made clear was even more incredible than he could have ever imagined.

“Oh, I think it definitely lived up to it. I still got a smile on my face,” Cicek said. “I’ve been smiling all day. It’s been an incredible experience and can’t wait to keep going.”

weeping abt it!!!! smiling all day and can't wait to keep it going!!!

and this article:

“[Quinn] said he was happy with how I played,” Cicek told San Jose Hockey Now. “We talked about a couple of things that he thought I could have fixed a little bit, but overall, he was happy with my game, and he just wants me to build off it and keep being confident.”

and

Quinn added: “He’s a smart player. He makes a good outlet pass, closes on people quick, and he’s competitive.

“He played with a swagger, and if you’re going to be successful in this league, you better have swagger.”

david quinn u are forgiven

also very important from that article, his parents are engineering professors, a fact which will undoubtedly come in handy if i ever stick him in my sharkuda college au. (leno 😔)

and this article from the beginning of the season with quotes from him and jmac where jmac says encouraging things abt him (one thing i appreciated abt jmac in the preseason, his outlook seemed to be, i'm gonna get these chucklefucks to the nhl or die trying) and cheech is just very, i'm gonna work hard and do my best!!! your honor i am so proud of him

and then ofc he got his first nhl point against the red wings last night which made me pretty emosh tbh!! 1 assist, 0+/-, shorter toi than against vegas but i'm trying not to overthink it since from the espn box score it looked like quinn was just making karlsson carry the entire team on his back all night against the wings lol. cheech is getting better and more confident every day!! i did not watch the game bc i was marathoning shoresy (talk to me about this show) but when i checked the cuda beat accounts after the game, i saw lizz child having a meltdown which was great. i love her lol i'm gonna miss her enthusiasm when twitter finally eats it.

and the sharks featured him in their hockey fights cancer pregame runaway photo set which is important to me as someone who thinks nhl teams should be deal in pastel colors more often

swagger, as david quinn put it.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 8

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

.💙💙💙.

𝕳𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕴 were let out of the hospital wing on Monday and we went back to attending classes. It was a relief to be back with other people. Of course, Draco Malfoy imitated Harry and I falling off our brooms over and over again every time one of us walked past. It was really getting on my nerves.

I kept my cool though. Cedric had us training constantly so that we could potentially win against Ravenclaw. I had to keep turning back hours to complete multiple classes. I kept leaving a food basket in the woods though I hadn't seen Sirius in a long time. I conversed with Firenze and sometimes Ronan or Ivagio about the stars and the future. I visited Hagrid with either Ginny or Hermione. And also, my private lessons with my teachers, and occlumency with dad.

Occlumency left me shivery afterwards and usually frustrated. I was not good at it unless there was something I really didn't want dad to see- like my interactions with Snape or my dreams.

We didn't work on the Patronus charm anymore, occlumency seemed to be dad's priority. So, I had started working on the charm by myself in an abandoned classroom or in the forest. It was coming along much better than Occlumency was, though I hadn't produced a corporeal patronus yet.

The bell rang and I hurried from class. I wanted to go and pop in and say hi to dad real quick. He was up and teaching again. I hurried through the hallways but when I heard him talking to someone, I stopped quickly.

"Why did they have to come to the match?" It was Harry's voice- bitter.

"They're getting hungry." Dad said in a cool voice. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up. . . I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement. . . emotions running high. . . it was their idea of a feast."

"Elizabeth saved me." Harry said suddenly. "Did you hear about that?"

"Yes." Dad said and he sounded proud. "I did hear about that as a matter of fact."

Harry was silent for a second. I waited and then, I turned and left. I didn't want to hear anymore.

.💙💙💙.

𝕽𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖜 𝖋𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖉 𝖚𝖘 at the next match, much to my irritation. It had been a long, tiring game too. I'd managed to score a few goals though- nearly all of them- and I was glad because dad was watching today. Of course, like nearly every other game, I nearly broke my head open with a bludger.

But there were no injuries at the end of the game when the Ravenclaw seeker- Cho Chang- caught the snitch. We were disappointed, but now we could cheer on Gryffindor. I was a bit disappointed for another reason. It was barely even Christmas time and my Quidditch season was already over.

"There's always next year." Cedric said with a wistful look on his face.

Yes. I supposed there was always next year.

The days passed quickly despite turning back hours, probably because I needed time to slow down. I supposed I could've used the time turner to create more hours for homework, but I decided to use it only for getting to class. (Unless I got desperate. Only then would I use it for homework).

There was another Hogsmeade trip the last week before term and I wondered if I really even wanted to go. I decided I would, for a short amount of time, and then come back.

I went with Hermione and Ron and we left Harry behind. My bag was empty again and I was trying to think up different gifts for the others. Christmas was coming soon.

Ron and Hermione decided that we would stop inside Honeydukes first. I bought boxes of chocolates for each person I wanted to give a gift to.

I also got Pepper Imps and Ice Mice because I wanted to try them out and I hadn't bought them last time.

"What should we get for Harry?" Hermione asked Ron, looking around. We were in the Unusual Tastes section.

"How about those?" Ron asked, pointing at the blood-flavored lollipops.

"Ugh, no, Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect." Hermione was saying.

I picked one up and said, "I wonder if they actually taste like blood."

"I wouldn't be surprised." Hermione said, shivering. I decided I'd buy it and try it out.

"How about these?" Ron said, picking up a jar of Cockroach Clusters and stuffed them under Hermione's nose.

A different voice made all of us jump. "Definitely not."

"Harry!" Hermione squealed, "What are you doing here? How- how did you-?" Hermione looked like she may have a heart attack.

"Wow!" Ron said with a very impressed look on his face, "you've learned to Apparate!"

I giggled.

"'Course I haven't." Harry said. He dropped his voice and said, "Fred and George got this map from Filch. It shows all the different secret passageways and stuff. Anyways I found a secret passage from the cellar of Hogsmeade to Hogwarts."

"Wicked." I said, grinning.

"How come Fred and George never gave it to me!" Ron said, outraged, "I'm their brother!"

"But Harry isn't going to keep it!" Hermione said in an astonished voice, "He's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Harry?"

"No, I'm not!" Harry said a bit loudly.

"Are you mad?" Ron said, looking at Hermione as though she were mad. "Hand in something that good?"

"If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and George had nicked it!" Harry said, arguing the logic.

I felt my stomach twist. While I knew Hermione wasn't going to tell, I felt nervous in real time. Imagine Fred and George reluctantly giving it over, and then being in trouble only hours later.

"But what about Sirius Black!" Hermione hissed and I very nearly rolled my eyes. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!" That was a good point too.

I intervened. "Hermione, Sirius is never going to use that secret passage."

We looked at each other for a second and Hermione tentatively asked, "Are you positive?"

I was silent for a moment, thinking. It was true, he would never use this passage ever. But in the end, he would use the passageway under the Whomping Willow. I only knew this because I was concentrating really hard. I wondered briefly if he was staying in the Shrieking Shack right now. . ."Yes, I'm positive." I finally said, hoping that I wasn't lying.

"Fine." Hermione sighed. Ron showed Harry around the shop while we paid for our sweets. "You are sure, right?" Hermione whispered in my ear.

I simply nodded. We headed out into the cold while Ron and Hermione pointed out different shops. I wondered if we could go into the Three Broomsticks. There were no dementors around, they were floating up very high in the sky.

Ron finally voiced the opinion that we should go into the Three Broomsticks, and so we went in. I looked around curiously. I'd never been inside before.

There were high beams crossing the roof made of wood. There were many wooden tables and booths scattered around the room in neat rows. Christmas trees decorated the corners of the room. In the back was a bar with stools and a young woman with blond hair was serving customers from behind it. She was thin and curvy and had a very pretty face. Her full lips were coloured red and she was obviously wearing mascara.

"That's Madam Rosmerta." Said Ron, who had gone red in the face. "I'll get the drinks, shall I?"

I giggled again as he set off for the bar. Harry, Hermione, and I went into the back corner of the room into an empty booth. We were near the fireplace and there was a Christmas tree that was by us. Ron came back about five minutes later, even redder than he'd been when he'd left us, carrying two tanks of butterbeer in each hand.

He handed Hermione and I our tankards. The tankards were made of glass and I could feel the heat coming through the material. I'd never actually had butterbeer before and was excited. Dad had always said that my first sip should be here with friends, no matter how many times I'd asked for the drink before. I realized now, that he was right. I was going to have to tell him.

"Merry Christmas!" Ron said, lifting his tankard and we all clinked ours together.

We all drank and I realized that it was one of the best things I had ever tasted. It was sweet, but not overly sweet, and hot so that it filled the insides of your body from head to toe. But I felt something was coming and on a premonition, I grabbed the tankard from Harry's hands.

The other three looked at me in shock and I hissed, "Get under the table now." At the same time, the doors opened and in came Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Hagrid. Hagrid was talking to the Minister of Magic- Fudge.

Harry quickly ducked under the table. At least now he wasn't going to be dripping with butterbeer.

"Hermione." I hissed again, "The tree."

Hermione whispered, "Mobiliarbus!" And the Christmas tree rose a few inches off the ground, landing in front of our table, hiding us all from view.

I could feel Harry's body against my leg (Hermione and Ron were sitting across from me). I handed him down his tankard of butterbeer so he could drink it- if he wanted to. I took another sip of the drink, mostly for something to do. Stupid Harry. Should've brought the damn Invisibility Cloak.

There was a click of heels and I heard a voice I'd never heard before say, "A small gillywater?"

"Mine." Professor McGonagall's voice said crisply.

"Four pints of Mulled Mead?"

"Ta, Rosmerta." Came Hagrid's boisterous voice.

"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella?"

"Mmm!" Professor Flitwick said, smacking his lips and I burst into silent giggles and muffled my mouth against my arm.

"So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister." Madam Rosmerta finished off.

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear." Fudge said. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us. . ."

"Well, thank you very much, Minister." Rosmerta said and there was the sound of heels leaving and then heels returning and another chair being pulled up to the table.

I twitched my leg nervously. How long were the teachers going to be here?

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" Rosmerta asked.

"What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?" Fudge said a few moments after she'd asked the question.

"I did hear a rumor." Madam Rosmerta said.

"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" Professor McGonagall asked in an exasperated voice.

"Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?" Rosmerta asked and so Hagrid never answered the question.

"I'm sure of it." Fudge said shortly.

"You know that the dementors have searched the whole village twice? Madam Rosmerta said, an icy edge to her voice. "Scared all my customers away. . . It's very bad for business, Minister."

Fudge sounded uncomfortable as he answered, "Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do. Necessary precaution unfortunate, but there you are. . . I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore- he won't let them inside the castle grounds."

"I should think not." Professor McGonagall said in a sharp voice, "How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?"

I shuddered at the thought of the dementors floating around the school. I'm sure I'd be embarassing myself even further, fainting every day and whatnot. I made a mental note to practice the patronus charm more than I already was.

"Hear, hear!" Professor Flitwick squeaked in a high pitched voice.

"All the same. . ." Fudge said, "If that girl you talked about would just give us something. . ."

I straightened up and stared at them- well where they would've been if the tree wasn't there. Hermione and Ron looked at me quickly too.

"Girl?" Madam Rosmerta asked in a curious voice, "What girl are you talking about?"

"Her name is Elizabeth Kane." Professor McGonagall said crisply and my cheeks flushed with embarrassed colour. Hermione and Ron looked at me quickly.

"According to Dumbledore, she can see the future." Fudge said. "Now if only she would direct her thoughts towards Black's capture, perhaps we'd have caught him by now."

"Now see here, Minister." Hagrid said in a sharp, almost cold voice, "Elizabeth ain' a tool. She's jus' a student like teh others."

I felt a special love towards Hagrid at that moment.

"Yes." Professor McGonagall said, also in a cold voice, "She has other things to be worried about. It is not her business to catch Sirius Black."

"I've never met this girl." Madam Rosmerta said, in a fascinated voice.

I shifted in my seat, looking down at the table, clenching my butterbeer tankard. Hermione and Ron made a point of not looking at me as well.

"She's the smartest student we have up at the school." Professor McGonagall said, "She's a third-year in Hufflepuff. She's very close with Harry Potter."

"Oh!" Madam Rosmerta said. "Of course, she's the girl in the article about whether or not she was Harry Potter's sister!"

"Tha' would be her." Hagrid said.

We all looked at each other nervously. My leg was bouncing up and down, rubbing against Harry's shoulder.

"Anyways." Fudge said dismissively, getting to the reason of why he was here. "I'd much rather she see something anyways. But the original point, the dementors are here for protection. We all know what Black is capable of, of course."

"I still have trouble believing it, you know." Madam Rosmerta said in a voice of those who were reminiscing about past events, "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought. . . I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."

"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta." Fudge said, "The worst he did isn't widely known."

"The worst?" Madam Rosmerta asked, "Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?"

Well, duh, I thought but didn't say.

"I certainly do." Fudge said matter of factly.

"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?" Madam Rosmerta practically scoffed at the Minister.

Professor McGonagall said, "You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta, Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally." And there was a small laugh from Madam Rosmerta. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here- ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"

Harry dropped his tankard with a loud thud. Ron kicked him under the table. I felt a jolt of shock shoot up my spine. I had known, of course, but it was so different hearing it from someone else's lips. Someone besides Dad anyways.

"Precisely." Professor McGonagall said. "Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright of, course, exceptionally bright, in fact- but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers-"

She was abruptly cut off as Hagrid chuckled and said, "I dunno, Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money. Elizabeth could too as a matter of fact, the amount of times she goes into the forest." My lips twitched into a smile too and then dropped as quickly as it had come.

"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers! Inseparable!" Flitwick added.

"Of course they were." Fudge said. "Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him."

"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" Madam Rosmerta whispered.

"Worse than that, m'dear. . ." Fudge dropped his voice and the four of us leaned to the side to hear better. "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. . ."

Well, of course my parents had known Voldemort was after them. That was why Sirius was the only one who knew I was Harry's twin sister. That's why he knew where I was hidden- deep in the basement in my pink and white crib and pink backpack with all my necessities already packed.

Sirius was my godfather too. Sirius was innocent. I knew that. . . how did I prove it? My parents had protected me. . . and my mum had protected Harry too. . . and my dad. . . James, my dad. . . he'd protected all three of us.

I felt tears spring up in my eyes and I wiped them away. I listened back into the conversation.

". . .immensely complex spell involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper," Professor Flitwick squeaked, sounding as though we might've been in the classroom. "and is henceforth impossible to find-unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"

"So Black was the Potter's Secret-Keeper?" Madam Rosmerta asked in a whisper.

"Naturally." Professor McGonagall said. She sounded like she had a stuffed nose. "James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself. . . and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potter's Secret-Keeper himself."

"He suspected Black?" Madam Rosmerta gasped and quickly lowered her voice again.

"He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements. Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who." Professor McGonagall said. She seemed to know a lot about this. Then again, she was deputy headmistress. You didn't get there unless the headmaster greatly respected you.

"But James Potter insisted on using Black?"

"He did." Fudge intervened. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed-"

"Black betrayed them?" Madam Rosmerta barely breathed this question.

"He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it-"

"Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid said, a bit louder than the others. The bar went quiet for a moment and then started up again.

"Shh!" Professor McGonagall said in a strained voice.

"I met him!" Hagrid growled, though his voice was much lower. "I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an' James house after they was killed! Jus' got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an' his parents dead. . . an' Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lily and Jame's Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the new o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin' he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!" Hagrid suddenly roared.

The four of us, used to listening in as hard as possible, all jumped at the sudden volume change. This time however, the bar didn't pay any attention to this outburst.

I stopped listening. Hagrid hadn't been the last to see Sirius. I had. I couldn't remember it, though I could just barely remember a lit place, perhaps a café. I remembered other things as well, the smell of burning wood, and a soft voice in my ear- Sirius' voice. Then there'd been something bitter, the smell I registered with coffee. That must've been the lit place and why I was sure it was a café.

I couldn't remember much farther back, though there was a memory of baby Harry and me sitting around a Christmas tree. Dad and mums' faces were a bit blurry. A cat came and sat in my lap and I hit it with a wooden spoon from my new play cooking set. The cat rolled over onto its back and stretched. Mum scolded me. It wasn't much but it was my only memory I had of the four of us together. But Sirius wasn't in that one.

I focused on the conversation again.

Fudge was saying, ". . .the Potter's friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself."

"Pettigrew. . . that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?" Madam Rosmerta asked.

"Hero-worshiped Black and Potter. Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I- how I regret that now. . ."

"There, now, Minerva," Fudge said kindly, "Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses- Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later- told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens. . ."

Professor McGonagall blew her nose at that moment and it made me realize that she was softer than she acted. The last time she had cried it was because Harry, Ron, and I had asked to go see Hermione in the hospital wing last year. Or maybe she only cried once a year.

"Stupid boy. . . foolish boy. . . he was always hopeless at dueling. . . should have left it to the Ministry. . ." Professor McGonagall said.

"I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't messed around with wands- I'd've ripped him limb-from-limb." Hagrid growled in a dangerous I'd never heard before. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid. Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I- I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him. . . a heap of bloodstained robes and a few- a few fragments-" Fudge said, at first sharply when addressing Hagrid, then softer as he described the rest.

It was funny really, I thought randomly, that Hagrid was sitting here so amiably when Fudge had put him in Azkaban last year. What was up with that? Had Hagrid really just forgiven Fudge like that? Or maybe I was the only person in the world who held a grudge against other people for their crimes against other people. I certainly would never forgive Fudge for that.

Five noses were blown after that. I glanced up. Ron's face was horrified. Hermione had tears in her eyes. I reached down, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. To my surprise, Harry reached up and grabbed it, squeezing it tightly. I felt a sort of vindictive pleasure rise up in me. My brother needed comfort! I was comforting him! Yes!

Fudge continued by saying, "Well, there you have it, Rosmerta. Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Merlin, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black's been in Azkaban ever since."

"Is it true he's mad, Minister?" Rosmerta said with a long, sad sigh.

"I wish I could say that he was." Fudge said slowly, perhaps even thoughtfully. "I certainly believe his master's defeat unhinged him for a while-"

No, I thought. He was unhinged (if he ever was) because he blamed himself for mum and dad's deaths. Because it was his idea of Pettigrew being the Secret-Keeper. That's what I knew now- I just had to prove it.

"-The murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man- cruel. . . pointless. Yet I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark; there's no sense in them. . . but I was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored- asked if I'd finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the dementors seemed to be having on him- and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door day and night."

"But what do you think he's broken out to do?" Madam Rosmerta asked. She seemed confused. "Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?"

"I daresay that is his-er- eventual plan." Fudge said, a bit uncomfortably and I realized that he wasn't going to tell Madam Rosmerta that Black was 'after' Harry Potter. "But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing. . . but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again. . ."

There was a small chink of glass on wood. Someone had set down their glass.

"You know, Cornelius," Professor McGonagall said after a very long silence. I realized my hand was tight with Harry's. "If you're dining with the headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle."

One by one the chairs all screeched back and there was a sound like Madam Rosmerta was collecting glasses. Then the teachers had walked out of the pub and Madam Rosmerta went behind the bar.

"H-Harry?" Hermione whispered. Harry came up from under the table. His face was pale.

"Let's go." I said sharply. "Let's go. Now."

We left the pub. Harry wandered back to Honeydukes in a lost way.

I turned to Hermione and Ron, "I'll see you guys back at the castle."

They nodded, looking at little pale, and I followed Harry into Honeydukes, up into the cellar, and into the secret passageway.

He was silent for most of the trip and I finally said, "I know why."

He jerked and asked, "Know why what?"

"Why Hagrid and Mr. Weasley never told you the truth."

"And why is that?" He asked coolly.

"Well first of all, neither Mr. Weasley nor Hagrid knew the whole story. They just knew as much as you- we knew. That Black was after you and he was Voldemort's supporter. They didn't know any of the other stuff. And Fudge certainly wasn't going to tell you the whole story, you heard him at the pub, 'Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him.' Fudge just sees you as a small, helpless boy."

"What about Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

I was silent for a moment, "He's the only one that I can say didn't have a good reason for not telling you. I suppose the reason would be he too thinks you're too young. Isn't that the reason he gave for not answering your questions after your fight with Quirrell?"

Harry was silent for the rest of the time and when we got out of the tunnel. When he got out he said, "I'm going to the common room, will I see you at dinner?"

"Maybe. If Fudge is eating here he might want to 'see' me. Maybe I'll go out to the forest and converse with the Centaurs to avoid him." I said with a shrug. It actually sounded like a really good idea.

Harry just nodded and then trudged off in the opposite direction. I stood there for a moment, unsure of where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. I had heard the conversation three times now. I had seen it in a vision, Sirius had explained it to me in the forest months ago, and now I had just heard it at the pub. Yet, there was some sort of unexplainable shock that was going through me.

Finally, I made my way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. I listened at the door but I didn't hear anything. I opened the door tentatively and then, not seeing any students, I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

I headed up the stairs to where the office was and knocked. "Come in." Dad said.

I opened the door and went inside. Dad looked up from his work and put his quill down, "What's wrong?" He asked automatically. Perhaps my face looked worse than I had thought.

I explained nearly everything that I had heard at the pub. Dad grew a little pale as he heard the conversation and then he shook his head at the end, "What a conversation to have in a public pub."

I laughed a little and then said, "I wasn't really shocked, I'd already seen the conversation beforehand but um. . ." I drifted off. "Did you know about this beforehand? All of it, I mean?"

"Yes." Dad said, picking his quill back up and making a mark on his papers.

I nodded and then sat down. There was silence except for the scratching of the quill on the paper. I looked out the window. Hagrid was walking to his hut.

"You have a nice view." I commented.

Dad chuckled and then sighed, "I have bad news."

I looked at him warily. "Yes?"

"I won't be able to spend Christmas day with you." Dad said, carefully circling something on the paper.

"I know." I said, though I still felt sad at the mention of it. "I memorize the dates every year. . . I have another question."

"Ask away."

"Why isn't my last name Lupin?"

Dad came a start, blotting the letters on the paper and looked up at me, a curious expression on his face. Then he smiled, "You know, I always wondered why you never asked that when you were younger." Then his smiled faded and said, "It was the wish of your parents for your last name to be Kane. Perhaps because there are no wizarding families with that name. Perhaps because if your last name had stayed Potter, well that's an obvious one. . . and if your last name had been Lupin, perhaps others would've made the connection and realized you were the adopted daughter of a werewolf."

I nodded, "Do you think I could get it legally changed to Lupin if I wanted to?"

Dad looked at me curiously, but his cheeks were flushed pink. He was pleased, I realized. "Only if you really, really wanted to."

I was silent for a moment. I couldn't think of anything else to say or ask so I stood and walked over to him and bent down and kissed his cheek.

"Love you dad."

"Love you too sweetheart."

I left the office and sighed as the door closed. If I wasn't married by the time I was eighteen (and of course, I wouldn't be because that was just. . . well that was just impossible) I would change my last name to Lupin. Until I got married, of course.

I smiled, walking down the stairs and then headed to the end of term banquet, unable to stop smiling at the pleasure on dad's face when I'd told him I wanted to change my name to his. 

⬅️➡️

[sport333]

It's more than mala-flavored Every episode is legendary

It's more than mala-flavored Every episode is legendary

Mnet's "Street Woman Fighter 2" (hereinafter referred to as "Swoofa 2") is very popular.

In fact, many analysts said that it would not be easy to surpass the popularity of "Soupa 1" because "Soupa 1" unexpectedly enjoyed great popularity. It was judged that the "Strong" sisters showed most of what they could show.

However, 'Soupa 2' is writing a new legend, breaking down such concerns at once. "Swoopa 2," which aired until the fourth episode, is drawing attention with record results every time. In the third episode, the highest viewer rating (based on Nielsen Korea's tally and paid households in the Seoul metropolitan area) was 4.0%, ranking first in all channels at the same time, including terrestrial broadcasters, breaking its own highest viewer rating. The 1539 target ratings and 2049 ratings also proved their potential by topping all channels.

Among them, a notable achievement is the 2040 female viewer rating. In particular, in the last four episodes, the ratings of women in their 40s have risen to 7.6% and an average of 5.8%. Women in their 20s and 30s also won the hearts of female viewers by achieving first place, including terrestrial broadcasting.

Male viewers' viewing changes are also noticeable. The ratings of men in their 40s jumped from 2.3 percent in the second episode to an average of 3.9 percent in the third episode. As such, the popularity of "Soupa 2" seems to be spreading rapidly beyond men and women of all ages, showing an even rise in male ratings.

Behind this popularity of "Soupa 2" is a variety of attractive elements that evoke dopamine in viewers. The quarrel between the crew members has been strengthened, and the teamwork of the crew members has become stronger.

In the beginning of season 1, Gabi and Aiki's competitive mode contributed greatly to increasing viewership. In addition, the case of Hollybank and Coca-Cola and Butter also maximized the confrontation and made it fun. However, in season 2, Lia Kim and Mina Myung attracted early viewers by properly presenting their emotional goals. In season 1, he said, "There was this level of conflict," but during the battle, Lia Kim and Mina Myung showed emotional fights over "choreography," and eventually showed tears from each other, emphasizing that it was "real."

The comments have become more powerful. It is said that the confrontation between Manequin Redrick and One Million Harimu, a teacher's student relationship, was also interesting.

Another strength is that the participating teams have become global as K-dance has gained worldwide popularity. He also joined the world-class dance team Jam Republic and Japanese team Tsubakil, highlighting that his status is recognized even on the global stage.

The narrative has also become stronger. Latris of Jam Republic and Ledrick of Mannequin drew attention by properly drawing out the drama narrative. In the middle class video shoot, Latris and Redrick's conflict, especially when Latris pointed to Redrick as the weak, reached its peak, but they were injured at the same time and met in the emergency room, drawing attention.

In teamwork, the member, who was designated as the worst dancer, showed tears and became stronger when the team's score was cut. For example, Deep & Dap leader Mina Myung, who was selected as the worst dancer, shed tears, saying, "But my children are happy that no one received the worst dancer." The team members patted him without saying a word, and Bebe's sea, who knew the weight of the leader, shed tears together.

In addition, Bada's heavy advice and comfort to Tatter, who shed tears due to the pressure of the "Choreography Copy Challenge Section," and One Million leader Lia Kim showed insufficient performance compared to expectations at the beginning of the show, but he became stronger thanks to the team members.

With Tsubakil confirmed as a elimination crew, the "Soupa 2" mega-crew video has surpassed 1 million views in all seven croups and has easily exceeded 19 million cumulative views (as of 9 a.m. on the 15th).

Dynamic Duo X Lee Young-ji's "Smoke" (Prod. Dynamic Duo, Paddy), a leader-class mission song that adopts Bebe Bada's choreography, is causing a challenge syndrome, covering not only various celebrities but also the public. #smokechallenge TikTok hashtag views have already exceeded 260,000 views, becoming the center of the global craze 대전호빠

Recently, even BTS (BTS) V participated in the "Smoke" challenge by presenting a colorful dance line with the sea and Goff, making headlines. Ahn Yu-jin of Ive also joined the "Smoke" challenge, and the challenge video of Park Jae-beom and Kinzaz Mike Song, who appeared as a special jersey in "Soupa 2," is also showing off their popularity. In addition, celebrities such as Kang Daniel, who is active as the MC of "Soupa 2," Rise Shotaro & Bada, NCT Taeyong & Bada, Lee Young-ji, ITZY Yeji & Ryujin, Enmix Gyujin, and ATEEZ San are heating up the heat by uploading challenge videos.

In addition, the "Smoke" challenge is going through hip word of mouth within short platform video platforms such as Instagram Reels and TikTok. Mnet has led to the success of "Supa"'s "Hey Mama," followed by "Supa"'s "Sabbing" and "Smoke" challenge. This is why there are voices saying that "Supa 2"'s popularity exceeds season 1

[animenewsplanet]

Blue Lock: Episode 3 Review

Blue Lock, the sports anime of this soccer anime season, had a real soccer match this week! Or, well, he had what looked like a match, but was actually a mess. But it's all part of the story, triggering some major character development that appears to be on the way soon.

Blue Lock is still ranked 6th in MyAnimeList's Fall anime ranking and is still above 8.36. This is probably because not only do fans of the typical sports anime watch it, but other otakus also try it out because it mixes genres. It's not just about showing realistic sportsmanship and teamwork; It is action-packed, psychological, and has a sci-fi edge setting.

Merch Fuse site provides an easy way to buy a Blue Lock poster.

Drama enters

We thought there was a lot of drama in Episode 2 last week, but it was nothing compared to Episode 3. Soccer Zero' was about the next challenge in the Blue Lock program where all players compete in each team. Play against the football team (remember they are all strikers) and against other teams in your building. The best two teams advance, the rest are eliminated.

The plan was actually thwarted by Ego's last rule: even on eliminated teams, the individual player with the most points would continue. No matter what plans Team Z, our hero Isagi's team, made in the locker room and on the field, everything fell apart. It was every man for himself, especially in the attitude of Jingo Raichi, who was really driven insane by his own selfishness in this episode.

At the end of Episode 3, Team Z has not resolved their differences even after losing that episode's match.

The other big thing we were introduced to in Walk In, A New Anime Episode 3 is a new antagonist, Shou Baru. Baru is from Team X, a rival of Team Z. He is tall, strong, and talented, and his eyes are red when he plays. Baru unites his team against all odds and manages to score 5 goals in the match.

Baru Isagi and his team have nothing good to say other than being a star player. In fact, he tells Isagi to his face that he is not ready to be Striker. Even if Team X gets eliminated in the next few episodes, we are sure that Baru will continue as the top scorer of his team. This means we haven't seen the last of him and he could be one of Isagi's biggest rivals in the future.

Blue lock Merch is the leading online store for all your Blue lock merchandise needs. Featuring a wide selection of Blue lock products, we are your one-stop shop for everything Blue lock.

Come in, friend?

In "Monster" we get to see more of Bachira's unique character and learn more about the monster that he claims lives inside him and Isagi when they play soccer. This time we got to see the friendship between Usagi and Bechara growing. While the rest of the team argued and fought, only Bachira and Isagi could try to score and work as a team.

However, the poor thing remains a mystery, including the fact that he spent the last five minutes of the episode completely naked while everyone makes their plans for the next match and arrogantly confronts another type of "policeman". Receives the matter". He's sure to become one of the comic characters, but as the rivalry escalates, so shouldn't his inner monster be forgotten...

Overall Blue Lock Episode 3 was fast-paced and had some good football action as well. Few friendships and more rivalries develop, leaving Team Z in a difficult position to get out of. Next week we'll see if they can finally figure out how to turn their zero into a one. Most likely they will, as we may not see Team Z being fully eliminated at the beginning of the series unless Blue Lock continues to fully perpetuate all anime sports tropes where teamwork always wins and the main character always wins.

We also sell Naruto Poster and stuff! Visit our website Merch Fuse.

[macaroni-rascal]

I know you detest TSL, but you’d appreciate Dave and Jenny’s commentary after Yuzu’s retirement. Some bullet notes:

Plenty of legendary skaters have retired but didn’t get the response Yuzu did. A lot of “tributes” from skaters are fake and some skaters are doing it for clout but many are afraid of yuzu’s fans. Didn’t want to be the only skaters NOT thanking him and posting about his retirement

Nathan could never be appreciated for his own greatness. Even after Nathan won worlds 3 years in a row. Once Nathan started consistently beating yuzu, the Fanyus kept moving the goal post and yuzu played into it. Like the 4 A. At some point yuzu started making excuses because he couldn’t handle losing to Nathan and it clouded many of Nathan’s moments

Yuzu never publicly told his fans to stop putting other skaters down. He may not have social media, but someone on his team certainly saw what was going on.

Both Nathan and Hanyu have been over-scored. After he lost the 2019 GPF to Nathan, his fans were pissed. The event was held at the site of the 2006 Olympics. His fans defaced olympic property where Olympic champions signed their names. Now it says “fuck the ISU.” He never even competed at those Olympics nor did he deserve winning the 2019 GPF.

Yuzu’s career is great with 2 OLY medals and some real high points. But he’s inconsistent and overrated as an artist. Feels gaslighted by fanyus claiming each yuzu program was different and unique from his other programs. When in reality Yuzu recycled choreography and layout and always looked down

The last quad, with his theatrics, inability to accept loss, and his fans’ delusions and hysteria, clouded his legacy. He and his fans just couldn’t accept that he was chasing something unattainable with the 4A and 3 OGMs

Didn’t go out in a beautiful way like other skaters have (such as Katerina Witt or virtue and Moir).Yuzu’s 2022 Oly season was ridiculous and a circus. We didn’t know if he was doing the team event, he blamed his SP results on the divot, a lot of bullshit with the 4a that most of us knew he wouldn’t land.

Michelle Kwan’s 2022 Olympic season was also a bit of a circus, but she handled it far more gracefully than Yuzu. He lacked accountability. He just didn’t go out in a great way and it isn’t the fault of the ISU. He was entitled and had zero accountability.

A broken clock can be right twice a day and every so often Lizard Man Lease can say very smart, astute, and true things. I completely agree on all points, they really hit ever branch on the way down Yuzu's disappointing behaviour tree.

I've thought Yuzu was overrated for years and in the end he cemented the fact that he's as deluded as his fans are, and just as entitled.

[archerpolice5]

Home Or Away, A Personalised Football Calendar Means You Won't Miss One Thing

So may land the pot of gold of the Champions League this 12? Barca have added Thuram and Zambrotta from Italy, but these surprisingly smacked 3-0 by their compatriots Sevilla from the Super Cup, the match between the Champions League and UEFA cup competitors. Barca displayed a surprising weakness in the middle of their defence and John Terry and his pals at Stamford Bridge are sure to have noted that. Greatest of the outsiders is the fast improving Lyon. I'm less than sure he is exactly, nevertheless also may not be surprised if he was sacked. With Sheikh Mansour naming ex-Barcelona executives Ferran Soriano as new CEO and Txiki Begiristain joining him as Director of football, this may mean changes will come if results do no longer. Recent Mancini interviews have become increasingly heated and he definitely is very much losing his cool usually while appearing stressed occasions. 크롱티비 , the National Football league, was installing as business, structured (in the same manner as the overall game itself) within a way to contain sporting spectacle for a package. Dust and grime too, and that i love gas of tactics and athleticism. Chelsea have won six of their seven games to lead the Premier League by four points, the biggest gap on the top in the Premier League since 2005 when Chelsea won all seven and led second-placed Charlton by six points.Chelsea have scored 23 goals and given only two, both these away, one at West ham and also the other at Manchester Locale. Villa on the other hand haven't lost a game at home this time. And with ex Liverpool boss Gerard Houllier they appear like getting strong by every match. You will Villa have just won one their own last four in the league with a victory over Wolves. Dean already been criticized like a free with penalty awards, though the number of cards per game awarded by him is in the norm. In 454 premier league games up to the 2009-10 season Dean has issued 3.17 yellow cards per game; the corresponding ratio for red cards issued via referee is 0.23. That said, from a spell of 24 matches in the 2009-10 season, Dean awarded 16 penalties, an average of one every 4.5 matches as opposed to the norm of one every three main.5 matches. In fact at least one player went on record as saying they had no hesitation in going down in the rival box, knowing Dean was the referee. I think Mark Hughes does have the backing of Rangers owner Tony Fernandes, but, understands how long that could last. Hughes will need to have a whole associated with patience to anything this season. It just really doesn't appear he knows what he has been doing this particular particular team. You need to very talented footballers in there, they are not playing to the very best of their natural talent. I think that much of this blame is laid with Mark Barnes. For a manager who left Fulham to seek further ambitions, he has not yet shown the guy can bring just that. Fulham are now 11 places above Rangers we wonder if Mark Hughes is regretting his assessment. Sunderland - 66 million dollar. Not a massive debt in the grand general scheme of things and doesn't include the 24 million that they received around the sale of Darren Bent to Aston Villa bugs reported 20 million which received from Liverpool for star player Jordan Henderson. Steve Bruce is however expected to spend the most of this money replacement players including Wes Brown, John O'Shea and Darron Gibson from Manchester united amongst more.

[bluemoonstonesy]

Your Idiot

Mason Mount

Request - hey could you please do a mason one with the prompts “I may be an idiot, but i’m your idiot” and “I might have had a few shots” and just like mason being extra clingy

Thank you to the anon who sent this - hope you enjoy angel, sorry it’s a little late <3

“Mase, you’re really pulling my hair.”

You can't help but giggle to yourself despite the slight tugging pain that continues to emerge from your scalp every few seconds. Mason had been out that evening with some of his Chelsea teammates to celebrate his hat-trick against Norwich. He insisted that you should come with him, but you were still feeling sick. This also meant that you had to watch the afternoon game on the TV from your living room. But despite the constant throbbing pain throughout your body, you still jumped up after all three of his goals and screamed his name happily once the full time whistle blew, one of Mason’s dark blue jersey’s from last season feeling even more special as his name and number sat splashed across your back.

You still feel awful about not being able to have witnessed the very special moment in person, but Mason was more than understanding, kissing your head before he left as you lay underneath a blanket on the couch, promising as usual that he would dedicate any goals to you if he got on the scoresheet. And as usual, Mason Mount was true to his word. After all three goals, he blew a not so subtle kiss towards the nearest pitch side camera. You felt your heart practically burst with pride, returning the kiss to the screen despite the fact that he couldn't see you from your shared home, still lying on the couch with a tub of ice cream that was accidentally dropped onto the floor after goal number two.

And now he's home again after his well deserved celebrations. He told you on facetime after the game that as soon as you were feeling like yourself again, you would go out to celebrate as a couple. But for now, you're quite content with sitting between Mason’s legs on the bed as he attempts to braid your hair - still slightly tipsy.

“Sorry, love.” He places a kiss on the top of your head before continuing his temporary hairdressing career, this time making sure to be more gentle with your locks. He definitely isn't, but you smile at his gestures nonetheless.

“I hope that you didn't drink too much,” You chuckle, flicking through Netflix on the TV that's mounted onto the bedroom wall, trying to find a relaxing film to watch until Mason eventually falls asleep from his tipsy haze.

“I might have had a few shots,” He replies, tongue poking out between his lips as he focuses all of his little concentration onto twisting the three strands of your hair together; a task that he's been attempting for the past half hour, “But that's it - I promise.”

Despite your back being faced to him, you catch his reflection in the large mirror just next to the TV, his eyes wide and sincere as he tries to convince you into believing his blatant lie. But you can't stay mad at him for more than a few seconds as he continues to weave his fingers over your scalp with eyes full of nothing but love and admiration for you.

You continue to lie between his legs with a small smile constantly on your face. Before long, Mason makes a small hum of satisfaction as he slowly removes his hands from your head, “Finished!” You raise one of your own hands to run over your hair. Considering the fact that he's had ‘a few shots’, it doesn't actually feel as uneven as it should be for a man with absolutely no hairdressing skills to his name. “That’s brilliant, Mase.”

You turn around to face him, a tipsy yet loving grin on his face as you lean in to meet his lips. He more than obliges, returning the kiss. In Mason’s sobering mind, he feels happier right now than he did after scoring those goals. The reason? Because you’re now here with him. “You have to wear it like that forever now.”

“Forever?”

“Yes. F O R E V E R.”

You keep your eyes on each other as Mason spells out the word extremely slow. You try not to crack at his drunken antics, but you can't help but let out a laugh as you notice the corners of his lips begin to turn upwards, “You’re an idiot.”

“Well I may be an idiot,” He whispers, gently pulling you upwards so that he can wrap his arms around you with ease. He places his head into the crook of your neck as he holds you close, “But I’m your idiot.”

Mason never fails to make you smile with his words, and this occasion is no different. After a few more minutes, you feel him begin to doze off from behind you, eyes fluttering shut as you keep your own fixated on the early 2000’s rom-com that you’d selected. You hesitantly pull yourself from between his legs, earning a small sleepy whine from your boyfriend. But you soon halt his protests as you move next to him and wrap his arm around your waist once again from beside him. A smile creeps onto your lips as Mason’s soft snores begin to fill the room within minutes. You shut your eyes as his warmth radiates off of his torso onto your skin, drifting off with the hope that Mason will score more hat-tricks if it leaves him as soft and caring as this.

[ghstandpucks]

You Are Gold ~ Tyson Jost

I hope you like it! Requests are open!

Request/Summary: Perhaps a request? 👉🏻👈🏻 I couldn’t choose so I’m bringing you two songs 1. You Are Gold -The National Parks 2.Happy Accidents -Saint Motel I’m not picky about players but josty with one of these songs would kill me I think but it’s really up to you I’m down for whoever @tysojost

I hope you enjoy it girl!! I chose You Are Gold by The National Parks. I am now in love with this song also!

Master List

We wandered lost beneath the lights I felt small under the galaxies It was one of those familiar nights I felt big with you next to me Oh my, oh my, I think that I am falling

You were in the stands the night Tyson made the overtime goal that secured the Avs’ place in the playoffs. Cheering as loud as you could for your curly haired best friend, Tyson immediately found you in the stands after being bear hugged by his linemates. He pointed up at you and you pointed back, continuing a tradition you had going since you started watching his games in high school. Tyson was ecstatic to have had the chance to help his team make the playoffs, and with you in the stands, he felt like he could conquer the world.

When you had met Tyson your freshman year of high school, you would have never thought your life would end up like this. You were new to the school, and of course managed to trip and drop all your books in the hallway on your first day. Amid trying to hold back tears from embarrassing yourself in a new place, you saw another set of hands helping you gather your things. As you stood up, you came to face a boy with a soft smile, concern in his eyes. He asked if you were alright, and introduced himself. Turned out the two of you had your next class together, and he walked you to your class after that so that way you knew where to go. Over the next couple weeks your friendship grew, and when hockey season started you attended a few games at Tyson’s request. One game he scored the final goal that would send his team to the championships, pointing at you after and claiming you as his lucky charm. The day he was drafted you both cried, knowing he would be leaving you behind, but kept in touch. Talking every day, Tyson was able to convince you to move to Denver when you graduated college. Finding a job in your field, you packed up and joined your best friend in the States.

A year later here you were, waiting for Tyson to get out of the locker room so you could go out with the team for the night. You were talking to JT and Cale when you felt arms circle your waist and a kiss planted on your cheek. This wasn’t an unusual way for Tyson to greet you, but it always made you giggle and lean back into him. Those around you two always rolled their eyes at how oblivious you were to each other’s feelings. JT rolled his eyes and shook his head, starting to walk off with Cale. He always brought up the fact that you both had feelings for each other to Tyson, and Tyson would always wave him off. You were his best friend, that was that.

It never really was ‘that’ though. Tyson had a crush on you the second he met you. Over the years though, he was able to convince himself that it wasn’t there. It was just a high school crush that he got over. You two were comfortable with each other, which explained the closeness. When one of his friends teased him for always having an eye on you, he would explain it away with it just being him watching out for you. When he got chirped for the cuddles you two shared, he would roll his eyes and chirp them all back.

Sitting in a booth that night though, with you tucked under his arm and laughing at the dumb jokes he was making, Tyson felt invincible. He was already riding a high from his goal, but there was something different about how you felt against his side; about how you whispered how proud of him you were when he pulled you into a hug before walking into the bar just because he wanted you close. You let out a buzzed giggle at something Andre said, leaning your head on Tyson’s shoulder and all of a sudden it was like he couldn’t catch his breath.

Tyson Jost was in love with his best friend.

'Cause you are gold You are all I see You are aurum scarce and meant for kings You are gold

Tyson tapped your hip, letting you know he was going to head to the restroom before everyone took off for the night. You smiled up at him and his heart felt like it jumped. It always did when he saw you smile, but this time he couldn’t help but admire it a fraction of a second too long, everyone around you two noticing and chuckling at the oblivious pair. Standing outside the bar, you shivered against the early morning chill, hugging your arms to yourself. A moment later a set of arms were back around you pulling you back into their chest. “Whose place?” Tyson asked softly.

“Yours. Your bed is softer,” you mumbled, yawning while you turned in his arms to wrap yours around his waist. Tyson let out a low chuckle and ordered the Uber. Going home together was a regular occurrence that just added fuel to the fire for the team. Neither of you saw the point in going to your own places though when you would just end up at breakfast together the next morning. Nothing ever happened, but it didn’t stop the comments that you and Tyson would just end up rolling your eyes at.

Upon arriving at Tyson’s apartment, you changed into one of his t-shirts and sleep shorts that you had there for occasions such as this. After washing your face and brushing your teeth, you crawled under the covers as Tyson made sure the front door was locked. He climbed into bed next to you, leaving space in the middle as you both always did. “So proud of you Tys,” you muttered as your eyes were falling, your breathing becoming even.

“Couldn’t have done it without you Y/N. My lucky charm,” he whispered as to not wake you. Reaching his hand out, he brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear and rested his hand against your cheek for a moment. Retracting his hand, he chuckled in disbelief. As he let himself drift off to sleep, he found his situation so cliched. Nothing ever really prepared you to fall in love with your best friend, did it?

And there's something I need to say But I feel too afraid 'Cause when it's real there's a risk A chance that I'm nervous to take Oh my, oh my, I think that I have fallen

When Tyson woke up you weren’t there. He sighed, rolling over to get out of bed, smiling to himself when he heard a faint cuss coming from the kitchen. You were always a mess in the kitchen. A good cook, but a mess. Shuffling into the kitchen, Tyson could smell bacon and pancakes. Whipping around you smiled at him, admiring his hair that was all ruffled from sleeping. Realizing you stared a little too long, you turned your attention back to the pancakes, hoping your cheeks weren’t turning too red. The thing was, it wasn’t just Tyson falling for his best friend. You always harbored feelings for the boy, but kept them shoved aside as to not ruin your friendship.

“Breakfast is almost ready if you want to get the plates down,” you spoke, hiding your thoughts. Tyson brushed past you, a hand on your lower back as he leaned around you.

“Smells delicious,” he commented, going to set the table.

“I hope it’s good,” you said, plating the last pancake.

“If you’re cooking it’s always good,” Tyson swooped in to kiss your cheek before taking the rest of the cutlery over to the table. You giggled, knowing that this was why everyone always assumed you were together. Eating breakfast, you both rehashed the happenings of the previous night. You were laughing at how Tyson was mimicking something Landy had said in the locker room, and Tyson couldn’t help but admire you. Even with your hair sitting in a sloppy bun on top of your head and in your pajamas, he had never managed to find someone that made him feel the way you did.

'Cause you are gold You are all I see You are aurum scarce and meant for kings You are gold You are gold

'Cause you are gold You are all I see You are aurum scarce and meant for kings

You cleaned off the table and changed into your jeans from last night, knotting Tyson’s shirt that you had on at the side so it fit you better. Tyson always insisted on doing the dishes if you cooked. You walked back into the kitchen and hopped up on the countertop next to him, laughing as he splashed a little water on you. “You butt, knock it off,” you screeched.

Tyson finished the last dish, returning to your side and started to tickle you. As you laughed and tried to push him away, you slipped off the counter. Looking up, both you and Tyson froze. It wasn’t that you had never been this close before, but in that moment you both felt something in the air shift. You were pressed up against Tyson’s chest, back against the counter. Tyson was looking down at you, for once his playful deminer gone, replaced by something you really couldn’t put your finger on. Tentatively, he brought his hand up and swept a piece of hair that had fallen into your face. He didn’t want to hold back anymore. Tyson took a deep breath, thinking it was now or never. “Y/N” he whispered, lowering his head toward yours.

You were thrown by how quickly it all seemed to be changing. Lowering your head to stop Tyson, he rested his forehead on top of yours. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice no louder than it was a moment ago. You took a shaky breath and slightly shook your head.

“I don’t know Tys,” you whispered.

“About what?” he pried, hand dropping from your face and settling on your hip.

“What’s happening right now,” you admitted. Tyson nodded slightly and took a step back, providing you some space. He was about to walk off, go to his room and change and hope this moment could be forgotten, but it was already out there, His feelings were seeping through and now that he recognized them he didn’t want to hide them away anymore. He knew this moment was all or nothing, and when it came to you, he was always all in.

“You know you mean the world to me right?” he asked, and you nodded, looking at him apprehensively. “I don’t think anyone has ever meant anything to me as much as you do.” Tyson took a small step toward you again, reaching for your hand. You let him grab it, rub his thumb over your knuckles. Staying silent, you let him continue. “You’ve always been the person that I can turn to; rely on. I’ve never hid my true feelings from you; except that I’ve been hiding my true feelings about you because I didn’t want to believe them,” he stopped, and you nodded slightly. He took your other hand in his, now holding them both and brought one up to his lips, placing a light kiss on it. “The truth is Y/N, I can’t picture my life without you. I want to be with you, and I mean actually be with you. I think you’re so beautiful, and smart, and sweet, and annoying when we watch your favorite movie because you quote the whole thing but I love it. I love how comfortable you are around my friends, how easily you fit in with them. I love how easily you fit into my life in Denver, like you were always meant to be here with me. I love how you get shy around new people and how you lean into me for comfort. I…” he stopped, knowing this was it. “I love you Y/N.”

You looked down at your feet at his confession, completely overwhelmed. There was no way your best friend was in love with you, he couldn’t be. You didn’t realize your eyes had started to water until a tear slide off your cheek and landed on your shoe. Your thoughts were shooting back and forth between confessing the same to him, or running. Fear crept up that if it didn’t work out between you two, things would never be the same; you would lose your best friend. After his confession though, would things ever be the same again? Scared and overwhelmed, you looked back up and met Tyson’s gaze. He seemed worried that he had said too much, and you panicked. You couldn’t lose him, but were you ready for this new dynamic with him? Anxiety started to creep up in you as you shook your head and pulled your hands out of his. “I can’t do this right now Tyson. I’m sorry,” you hastily said walking over to his door, grabbing your purse along the way and exiting his apartment.

And I will wait If it's time you need What I see in you I hope you find in me

Tyson stood in his kitchen, looking at the door you had left through. What just happened? Everyone said you felt the same as him, even when he would deny it. After the disbelief settled, fear took over. Had he just lost you? His best friend, the one who meant every thing to him? He started to pace around his apartment, not sure what to do. Should he go after you, pretend it was all a joke? Should he call you? Would you even answer? He was pulled out of his thoughts an hour later by his phone ringing. Praying it was you, he ran to grab it, disappointed when he saw it was JT. “I fucked up,” he answered, and there was a chuckle from the other end of the line.

“That’s a hell of a greeting. What do you mean you fucked up?” the ginger was ready to laugh at his friend’s expense.

“I told Y/N I loved her,” Tyson spoke, quietly and quickly.

“Oh shit. How did that go over?” JT stopped what he was doing, realizing Tyson wasn’t joking around.

“She started crying and told me she couldn’t do this right now,” Tyson sat on his couch, head in his hands. JT was silent for a second, stunned that that was your response also. He would have sworn up and down, left and right that you had feelings for Tyson.

“Well if she said right now, maybe she just needs some time to think it over?” he tried to suggest as he knew Tyson was beating himself up.

“What if she thinks it over and that’s it though. I just ruined our friendship,” Tyson was on the verge of tears himself, and JT could hear it in his voice.

“Josty, I’m sure you didn’t ruin your friendship with her. Give her some space, you guys will work it out,” JT replied sympathetically. They talked for a little while longer before there was a faint knock at Tyson’s door. He stood up and sluggishly walked over to open it, freezing when he saw you standing there. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying and you were still in the same clothes you left in.

“I got to go,” he said into his phone, completely cutting off JT and hanging up on him. He would explain later. Moving aside, you walked past him and into the apartment quietly, setting your purse on the table by the door as you always did. “Where have you been?” Tyson asked you, noticing a chill run through you and running to get one of his sweatshirts for you to put on without thinking. You smiled softly at him, putting it on and letting the warm, worn in fabric envelope you.

“The stairwell. I never made it out of the building” you admitted quietly. When you had left Tyson’s, you opted for the stairs, not wanting to deal with people in the elevator. When you got a flight down though, your legs crumbled in on themselves as you started to sob. You had spent the past hour in a half crying and trying to pull yourself together in that same spot before realizing what you needed to do.

“Y/N…” Tyson reached out for you sympathetically, his heart breaking at the sight of you.

“No, I’m okay really,” you sniffled while trying to make light of the situation. “I need to tell you something.” Tyson nodded, preparing for his heart to be broken. “You mean the world to me too. I’m sorry for how I reacted. You know I hate change and I got scared. I don’t want to lose you, because I don’t want to know a life without you,” you started to cry as you spoke, the tears just flowing freely at this point. Tyson smiled as he tried to swallow back his own tears. Closing the distance between you two, he brushed away your tears with his thumb and leaned his forehead on yours. “I’m so sorry for just walking out earlier Tyson,” you whispered.

“It’s okay,” he tried to silence all the doubts he knew were swimming in your head. You shook your head ever so slightly, and tried to look him in the eye from the position you were in; your nose brushing against his.

“No it’s not. I should have told you…” you trailed off.

“Told me what?” Tyson pushed, pulling back so he could look at you correctly. It was your turn to take a deep breath, steading yourself before you uttered the words that would change your dynamic forever. There would be no going back for either of you.

“That I love you too,” you smiled softly. Tyson grinned at you, before cupping your cheek and pulling you into him. Your lips met a little clumsily, the both of you giggling into the kiss. Of course your first kiss would end up in a fit of giggles instead of being all romantic and passionate like you see in moves. But it felt right, it felt natural to be kissing him. It felt like home.

'Cause you are gold Gold You are gold Gold

Tyson was still wiping your tears away as he pulled back, the both of you grinning like a pair of idiots. “Why are you still crying?” he chuckled softly, kissing your cheeks, the tip of your nose.

“I don’t know, you know me” you giggled slightly, intertwining your fingers with his.

“That I do,” he whispered, leaning back in for a kiss that was softer this time. When you pulled back he chased your lips, wanting to make up for all the years he didn’t spend kissing you. You both spent the rest of the day at his apartment, cuddling together and enjoying each other’s company. Nothing felt much different, beside the fact that you could now kiss your best friend, and Tyson took full advantage of that. As the evening came about and you were both ready for bed, Tyson pulled you into his chest under the covers. No more was there an imaginary line when you slept, and Tyson was fully ready to never let you out of his arms again.

“This feels right,” you commented, yawning while you snuggled closer into him, if that was even possible.

“I never want to let you go,” Tyson spoke softly, lifting your chin up so he could look at you.

“Then don’t,” you matched his tone, smiling sleepily up at him and Tyson knew he was a goner, he always had been for you. “I love you Tys,” you leaned up to kiss him before settling in for the night.

“I love Y/N. Always have and always will,” he muttered, falling asleep with a smile on his face.

'Cause you are gold You are all I see You are aurum scarce and meant for kings You are gold

[slafkovskys]

the way you do / t. emberson

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from fireproof by one direction

warning(s): swear words, mentions of a concussion, jealousy, accusations of cheating, also written in a no covid world :)

word count: 5.8k

-

you cheer along with only a portion of the crowd as the goal horn sounds, signaling what you knew was the first and last point of the night for wisconsin. while david gets to work on updating the instagram account from his spot beside you, your fingers rapidly type out a tweet to send out that would update the people who were following along there.

badgers are on the board thanks to tyler inamoto! the score is 3-1 arizona state with 0:10 left in the third period

“what are you doing after this?” david asks, looking back out onto the ice while you start a new tweet, just in case something were to happen in the next ten seconds. “i’m sure we can find some bar to sneak into. are you up for it?”

“i don’t know,” you sigh, focusing on the opposing team’s player as he takes the puck and shoots down the ice, attempting to beat the buzzer. you frown when the horn sounds, signaling the end of the game and a win for arizona, which you quickly update on. “it’s my turn to do the interviews and i don’t know how long that’s gonna take. i always have to chase someone down and i also said that i would help cole with his biology, but i think that’s going to be a plane ride home priority.”

“well, at least they’re all going to be in the same place for at least the next twelve hours or so. it shouldn’t be that hard to find who you want,” david stands up and you follow suit, making sure that you have your phone in your back pocket before following him towards the locker room. “besides, they like you more than they like me. you’ve got that midwestern charm and i’ve got an annoying southern accent.”

“your accent is not annoying. tell me who told you that it was and i will gladly humble them,” you look at the younger boy who smiles.

it was no secret that the boys were more acquainted with you rather than david as you had two years on him. while you were a senior, david was only a sophomore starting out with the team. this was your third year with them and you had taken him under your wing because he was going to be taking over for you next year when you were gone.

you make your way through the arena, taking a route that was closed off to the general public to make it back to the locker room to catch the boys before they got caught up in granato’s post-game speech.

“who am i talking to tonight?” you mumble to yourself as you tug at your bottom lip. you look up at david who was leaning against the wall across from you, “do you remember who i talked to last week? don’t look at me like that. so much has happened between now and then…”

“trouble in paradise?” he’s quick to joke, but the look that you send him causes the smile to drop from his face. his eyes widen, “please tell me-”

“we haven’t broken up, if that’s what you were going to say,” you look back down at your computer screen and shrug, “it’s just- he’s been acting weird since we landed. he’s so touchy and, yeah, we’ve had our moments. hell, we were long distance for two years, but this is- it’s just weird.”

“i mean, i’ve never been in a serious relationship, but you definitely need to talk to him. you’ve been together too long to let it fizzle out. you’re the only couple that i can tolerate,” he rolls his eyes and you send him a grin. “it’s true. you and ty are, like, royalty at wisconsin. i’m pretty sure that you’re the couple that has been together the longest.”

“maybe second longest. i met a girl last year who had been with her boyfriend for six years and we’ve only been together for five, so they have us beat,” you leave out the fact that both of them graduated last summer.

the boys trickle back quietly. you give them a moment to get settled before taking a deep breath and walking towards the entrance. you peek your head in and granato spots you immediately, waving you inside. “you’ve been spared for two minutes, boys. listen to the lady and don��t give her a hard time.”

you send him a nod in thanks before looking out over the room. you had all of their attention except for one and it was the person who you cared the most for. you send a soft smile as your eyes scan the room, “i don’t love any of you any less. you played a great game boys and you’re going to kill it tomorrow.”

“did you get any more stickers?” owen asks and you turn to look at him.

“i did, actually, but you can blame your captain for stealing them all before i could distribute them,” you look back at ty who looks at you with a cold look. you swallow the lump in your throat and quickly look towards the other ty who speaks up.

“do you think you could find those dinosaur ones again? those were badass.”

“i still have mine on my water bottle!”

“i missed the dinosaur pack.”

“that’s why you have to score, mike.”

yes, you were aware of how childish the stickers were. you used them as an incentive so that when they came to talk to you, they got to pick a sticker. the boys enjoyed them and even stuck them on their equipment sometimes when they could get away with it.  

“okay, back on track,” you look down at your computer. you tap your nails on the keypad before clicking your tongue, “i need to see tyler, roman, and brock’s brother-”

“hey!” cole shouts from beside you while your joke provokes some of the boys to laugh.

“just keeping you humble, caufield,” you wink and he rolls his eyes, sinking back into his stall. you shake your head, “i’m not going to make you talk to me tonight because honestly, i’m drained and i know all of you are too. but please do come find me during breakfast tomorrow because i do have deadlines that i have to meet and that’s stretching it far enough. if you decide that you want to be mean and not come, i will be even meaner and snitch and you can find yourself being worked overtime in practice. are we clear, gentlemen?”

“yes ma’am!”

“thank you and good night,” you wave your hand around as you exit the room, shaking your head at the claps that followed you out. you and david gather your things and head toward the bus, knowing very well that it would be a while before the boys would begin to file out. you flop down in your seat and sigh, “one down, one to go.”

even though it wasn’t often, you loved when you got the opportunity to go on road trips. you usually got to go on the ones that were just bus trips, but it was a rare occasion when you got to go on trips that had to be made by plane. once or twice during the season, however, you got to pick a trip that you wanted to come on and this year you had picked arizona. before ty had gotten drafted, you had never been nor had you ever really wanted to go to the state. after coming to see ty during his first development camp, you had pretty much fallen in love with it and had taken every opportunity to come and visit since.

“your future home,” david chuckles and you roll your eyes. “what? do you know something that i don’t?”

“there’s a lot of things that i can’t talk about, david and those that pertain to my boyfriend’s future career are ones that are at the top of the list. you aren’t getting any insider news from me, buddy,” you point an accusatory finger and he holds his hands up in surrender.  

“you could be my anonymous source?” he suggests, smirking when you flip him off.

it’s relatively quiet for the next half hour until the doors of the bus open and the boys start stumbling on. you close your laptop and leave it on the empty seat that ty usually occupied and stand up, pushing your way to the front. brock pats your head as he passes and you shove an elbow into his side, “dick.”

“he’s in a mood, princess. tread lightly.”

his warning makes you raise an eyebrow. you don’t have time to ask what he meant before ty rounds the corner. shay moves to the side to let you step off of the bus and you send him a grin. you meet ty in the middle, wrapping your arms around his neck, “i‘m proud of you.”

“are you?” he spits. his hands stay glued to his sides and you pull away, dropping your own. “cole’s on his way. wouldn’t you rather see him instead?”

“what are you talking about?”

“you seem to be real fucking close these days. you’re with him more than you’re with me, so is it wrong for me to just assume that you’re fucking him too?” your mouth gapes at his words.

“are you accusing me of cheating on you?” you lower your voice, very aware of his teammates that could definitely hear your conversation. he shrugs his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest. “i know how you get after losses, but for you to go as far as to accuse me of cheating on you with a member of your team-”

“it’s fucking obvious, y/n. you’re so flirty with each other, sitting next to each other on the plane, and that shit in the locker room. i’m not oblivious.”

“fuck you, dude. i have given up so much for you and the fact that you can stand there and accuse me of doing that to you after everything that we’ve been through over the last five years, makes me wonder if it was even worth it.” you turn on your heel and march towards the bus, leaving him standing there looking shocked. you make your way up the stairs and the bus goes quiet as they stare at you, obviously having heard what happened outside. you swallow, “i’m sorry about that.”

you make your way back to your seat and grab your computer, propping your feet on the empty seat and shrinking against the window. the tears threaten to spill out from your eyes, but you don’t let them. once everyone is accounted for, the bus pulls away from the arena and heads for the hotel.

you run your fingers against your temples, trying to soothe the headache that had developed in the last five minutes. you could feel eyes on you and you look up to find jack sitting in the row of seats beside you. he opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head, “please don’t.”

you grab your phone and quickly go to your messages, finding david’s contact and shooting your fingers across the screen quickly:

do you still feel like going out??

we have curfew

and after what just happened it doesn’t seem like a good idea

curfew is midnight and it’s not even ten yet. we’ll have a couple hours and after what just happened, going out seems like a great idea

are you in or not? because i’m going even if i have to go alone

let me go to my room first and i’ll meet you in the lobby

-

when you woke up the next morning, you were still tired. you had barely slept and the last thing you remembered before you were able to slip into unconsciousness was the sun slowly starting to peek through the window of your hotel room.

it took a few seconds for it to register that someone was pounding on your door. with a grunt, you throw the sheets away from your body and stumble towards the door. you look out of the peephole and your stomach sinks at who is standing on the other side. you undo the deadbolt and pull it open, “you should not be here.”

“don’t worry, he’s the one who sent me here. he also sent this and,” he pulls out a bouquet from behind his back, “these.”

“that’s not going to make me forgive him,” you shake your head and accept the flowers and the coffee cup from cole anyway, gesturing for him to come inside.

“believe me, we all told him that,” cole takes a seat on the spare bed and you look at him with a confused gaze. he raises an eyebrow, “y/n, you have the entire hockey team behind you. we’ve been giving him hell all night. dom even bunked with brock and jack in protest. also, i’m pretty sure that coach found out and brought him back down to earth, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“did he-” you can’t even say it.

“no, he didn’t lose the c, but coach was very adamant that what happened was not captain behavior and that he’s on very thin ice,” he pauses for a minute and then grins, “ha, thin ice.”

you shake your head and lean against the desk in the corner of the room, “that’s good then.”

“he accused you of cheating on him and you’re worried about his letter status?”

“you don’t understand, cole,” he looks at you in a way that says ‘well, help me understand.’ you sigh, “we’ve been together since we were sixteen and seventeen years old. we’ve known each other even longer. i’ve watched him work his ass off and sacrifice so much to get where he is. the thought of him losing that over him saying some dumbass thing because he was pissed off breaks my heart in more ways than one. do i think that he’s an absolute asshole right now? absolutely. do i want to look at him? not really. but i still love him, cole. and i always will.”

he looks at you for a second before he pretends to wipe a tear from his eye, “really tugged on the heartstrings there, y/n. love is a crazy thing.”

“indeed it is. now get out of my room. i need to get ready for the day and i’m slightly hungover and hotel breakfast food sounds amazing right now,” you follow him towards the door.

“oh and just so we’re clear,” he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he faces you, “i made it very clear that you are way too old for me.”

you shove his shoulder, “considering that he’s the only exception for dating someone younger than me, you are way too young for me, cole caufield.”

“glad that we have an understanding,” he holds up his hand and you smack yours against it. with a grin, he makes his way towards the elevator and you close the door behind him.

you take your time getting ready, trying to hide the fact that you were recovering from a little too much alcohol you had practically inhaled at some bar downtown the night before that you couldn’t even remember the name of. you make sure all of your things are gathered and together because you knew that you wouldn’t want to do it when you returned.

you grab the things that you would need for the game and head downstairs. you walk into the conference room that had been set aside for the team and immediately head to grab your food. once your plate was piled high, you turn to find an empty and immediately your eyes lock with his. just by looking at him, you can tell that he hadn’t slept and even if he did, it wasn’t much.

your attention is pulled away from him by a shout of your name. owen is waving you over and shay is pointing at an empty seat, “we called dibs on you this morning.”

“too soon, lindy,” robbie shakes his head as you take the seat between owen and dylan. he looks at you concerned, “you good?”

“don’t worry about me boys. you have a game to win today and that’s what you should be focused on,” you try and distract them but none of them are buying what you’re trying to sell. you twist the cap off your water and take a sip before grabbing your fork, “seriously boys, i appreciate your concern, but i’m okay. i promise.”

“if you want us to beat him up for you, just say the word,” dylan offers and the table agrees. you raise an eyebrow, “we discussed it last night and we also have first dibs on defending your honor if you asked us to.”

“his roommates are next in line,” ryder points his fork at you and you smile.

“i’m glad to know that you would beat up your captain for me, boys.”

“he may be captain, but no one disrespects our y/n and gets away with it. who would give us stickers then?”

“we can’t have anything because of you, shay. she’s more than just the damn stickers.”

three o’clock comes quick and before you know it, you’re making your way down the tunnel to cheer for them as they come out, just as you always did. you clap as they line up in front of you. you avoid looking at him until you feel a tap on your ankle. you look down just in time to see a hockey stick being pulled away. you look up to find its owner staring right back at you, apologetically.

he nods his head, “i love you.”

“i love you too, twenty-one. don’t do anything stupid,” you cross your arms over your chest and give him your best ‘i’m not joking look.’ it was part of the routine that you two had developed over the last couple of years, and even though there was still some obvious tension between the two of you that had yet to be resolved, he hadn’t missed his chance to continue it.

he chuckles right as the announcer booms to the crowd to welcome them to the ice, “no promises.”

you watch as they file out, the cheers for them were not as loud as they were when you were on home ice, but you made sure to scream as loud as always. you and david make quick work of getting to your seats and he wasted no time in sending you a look, “are you-”

“we haven’t talked yet, no. we probably won’t even have time until we’re back home, but just because he’s being an asshole doesn’t mean i love him any less,” you defend yourself and he hums, looking out onto the ice.

when they get in position for puck drop, an uneasy feeling develops in your stomach. you try not to think about it as the puck hits the ice and the game begins, but unfortunately, it didn’t last long.

it was some freshman lineman known for being a menace. he’d been practically on top of ty every time that he got on the ice, shoving him when he didn’t have the puck, almost tripping him once, and of course, the refs were in their own little worlds and hadn’t called a penalty for anything.

eight minutes into the game was when it happened and when it happened, it happened quickly. you barely had time to blink before their gloves were off and their hands were tangled in each other’s jerseys. you stand up, watching as your boyfriend loses the upper hand quickly. in a matter of seconds, his helmet is somehow knocked off and he’s hitting the ice and-

he’s not moving.

“get the fuck up ty,” your hand covers your mouth as the trainers rush out onto the ice after they pull the guy off of him. you can see on the screen that he’s smirking as he’s led off the ice and down their tunnel. david grabs onto your arm as you stumble, “please get up baby.”

“y/n,” he says, but you don’t respond.

you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding when ty moves, taking a minute before he gets up with a lot of help from the trainers. you watch as he’s led off the ice and you swallow at the blood on his jersey. you turn towards david, “i have to-”

“go, babe. i can cover this. go check on him,” that was all that you needed before you scoot out of your row and quickly make your way down the stairs.

you wind up outside the locker room where you're stopped by a security guard. you hold up your badge that showed that you had permission to be there, but he gave you a disapproving look as he shakes his head. you pull out your phone, but anna walks out just in time, “anna!”

“i was just coming to get you,” she sighs, glaring at the security guard as he finally lets you pass. she wraps a hand around your arm as she leads you back to the room, “we’re pretty sure he has a minor concussion at least. paul’s giving him a check-up now and he’s going to decide what to do from there.”

“has he said anything?” you ask, mind running wild as it thinks of the worst.

“the only thing he asked for, even when he came to, was he wanted to see his wife. i told him that you weren’t married, but he wouldn’t hear it. it was just ‘my wife, my wife, my wife’ and that’s why i was coming to get you. he said if he has to go to the hospital or anything, he’s not going if you’re not there with him,” she says and you take a deep breath. she squeezes your arm as you stop outside of the closed door, “just don’t be too loud. he’s very sensitive to light and noise right now.”

“of course,” you nod and she opens the door. the lights were dimmed just a little, but you still easily spot him in the middle of the bed. paul stands beside him, checking on him while he sits up. he pulls away from paul’s hands and moves to get up, but you quickly get to his side, placing your hand on his shoulder and grabbing his hand, “don’t move, ty. let him do what he needs to do.”

“baby,” he whimpers and you squeeze his hand, pulling it up to your mouth and pressing a kiss to the skin. throughout the entire process, he doesn’t let go. he answers what he’s asked and when paul moves away, he pulls you close, “baby.”

“i know. i’m sorry,” you wrap your arm around his neck and press a soft kiss to the side of his head when he tucks his face into your neck.

“the good news is that i don’t think that you need to go to the emergency room,” paul announces, leaning against a table backed against the wall. he looks at the two of you, “but i don’t feel comfortable sending you back out there. you’ve got a minor concussion and if they aren’t treated right, they can go bad quick.”

“i know,” he says, squeezing your hip.

“so, what do we need to do?” you ask.

“i’m gonna see if i can get the bus to drop you guys back off at the hotel. he needs rest right now and it’ll be hard to get that in this environment,” he shakes his head, “who are you rooming with, ty?”

he winces at the sound of a muffled goal horn and you answer for him, “mersch.”

“if i give you a list of what to do, do you think that you can watch over him?”

“of course,” you nod and ty shifts.

“great. i know that he’s not supposed to be in your room after certain hours, but i think that coach will agree with me that in these circumstances, it’s necessary,” he says and you hum.

after he tells you the basics and makes sure that you have his phone number if you need something, you pull away from ty, “i’m gonna go and grab you some clothes, okay? i know you don’t want to be in that on the bus.”

“please don’t go,” he pleads, holding onto your hand as you go to step away. “you’re gonna leave me because of what i said.”

you look at paul briefly who looks concerned. at least there was someone who was out of the loop.

you shake your head and rub at his cheek, “no, baby. i’m coming back i promise. i’m just gonna go get your clothes from the locker room that’s right across the hall.”

“i’ll come with you,” he insists, moving to stand up.

both you and paul are quick to push him back down as gently as possible. paul pats his chest, “you can stay here with me big guy. i still have a couple of questions for you.”

hesitantly, he lets your hand go as you promise him once more that you were coming back. you make your way across the hall and find his stall, digging through his things to find some clothes for him that were not his suit.

once you find some sweats and a hoodie, you turn on your heel just as the boys start to file in. jack is the first to speak up, “is he okay?”

“minor concussion and as of right now, he doesn’t need to go to the emergency room, but paul’s pulling him for the game. i think we’re getting sent to the hotel where he’s going to be on mandatory rest until he gets checked on again before we leave tomorrow. so, please, i love you all so much and he does too, but just let him sleep. we don’t want this to turn into something major,” you give them all pleading eyes and they all nod.

you walk back across the hall to find coach talking with paul and ty laying back on the bed. instantly, he reaches out for you. granato looks at you, “you’re going to make sure he’s okay?”

“i’m going to try my best,” you assure him and he nods.

“i trust you a hell of a lot more than i trust mersch when it comes to these types of things,” he looks over to ty and pats his leg, “the bus is taking you two back to the hotel where you’re going to rest, got it?”

“yes sir,” he mumbles, eyes closed.

granato and paul leave the room as ty gets dressed. he does need some assistance and when he’s finally out of his gear, he sighs, “i never realized how extensive all of that was.”

“tell me about it,” you mumble. you look at him, “are you ready? do you think that you can get to the bus?”

“if you’ll go slow. you always walk so fast,” he complains and you grin. he throws an arm over your shoulder and you wrap an arm around his waist. you walk out of the door and he pauses, looking into the locker room, “can i-”

“you’ve probably got a minute or two before they have to go back,” you say and he nods. with help from you, he limps over to the doorway and the room goes quiet.

“boys,” he says, standing in front of you, but reaching out behind him for your hand. you take it and squeeze, “what’s the score?”

“we’re leading with one,” the other ty says and he nods. “you good, cap?”

“minor concussion, nothing i can’t handle. plus, i’ve got a good babysitter for tonight,” he turns to look at you with a grin and you send a small smile back. “win it, boys. don’t worry about me, just win.”

“tough speech, eh?” dom calls and some of the boys chuckle.

“did you miss the part about the concussion?” ty asks and dom rolls his eyes. “love you boys.”

there’s an echo of his admission before you finally began the trek to the bus. you take up a row in the middle, ty taking the seat by the window and resting his head on your shoulder. you trace the veins on his hand as the bus takes you back to the hotel, the entire trip spent in silence.

once you get him inside your hotel room, he wastes no time crawling into bed. he looks at you hopefully, “will you lay with me?”

“let me get out of these jeans,” you find a pair of shorts and a too-big t-shirt that belonged to him at some point before you slip in beside him.

he presses himself to your chest and you card your fingers through his hair, “i’m sorry about what i said, y/n.”

“not now, ty. you need to rest.”

he sighs, but he doesn’t argue. it wasn’t long before his breathing evens out and he goes limp against you, leaving you to your thoughts.

-

“rise and shine,” you mumble, poking at his cheek. he groans, curling his fingers in the fabric of your t-shirt as he shakes his head. “baby, you have to get up every few hours. aren’t you hungry?”

“do you have food?” he asks, not opening his eyes.

“i can order some, but you have to tell me what you want. i can’t read your mind,” he rolls over then, stretching his arms out over his head. “how do you feel?”

“my head hurts and my body’s sore,” he says. “i didn’t break anything, did i?”

“do you think that you did?” you raise your eyebrows, ready to reach for your phone to call paul.

“no, no, i just- i remember hitting the ice and not much else after. i remember when i came to that anna was standing over me and i wanted you, but you weren’t there. i was looking for you in the stands, but i couldn’t find you. i- i thought that you were gone.”

“i was there ty. they just moved our seats tonight because someone had those already. i’m not leaving, i would never leave,” you assure him, running your hand along his cheek. “we don’t need to talk about this right now. you need to eat and rest-”

“i want to talk about it though. it’s been eating me up inside ever since i said it,” he looks at you pleadingly and you sigh. “i was an ass.”

“you were,” you agree and he chuckles. “the thing is, it’s not even really so much that you think that i would do that to you. yes, it obviously hurt, but it’s more so the fact that you would do it in public. the entire team heard you.”

“i know and believe me, i’ve already had my ass chewed out about it by everyone in that locker room, and i mean everyone. you have an entire hockey team behind your back on this one.”

“they told me. they’re also forming a line to beat you up if i needed them to which is nice,” you smile. it’s quiet for a moment before you speak again, “why did you do it? that’s what i want to know.”

“because i was angry. i was angry about the game last night and i saw you and cole. i know you’re just friends and that you’ve been helping him with his school stuff or whatever, but when you were on the plane, you were just so giggly or whatever. than that in the locker room-”

“we were just playing around, ty. he’s literally like my little brother.”

“and i know that. he made it very clear last night that you are too old for him.”

“we have an understanding,” ty presses his lips to your shoulder and you swallow. “i’m still mad at you. i forgive you, but i’m still mad.”

“you have every right to be. what i said was out of line and uncalled for, i’m surprised that you’re talking to me right now,” he chuckles, wincing as he presses his fingers to the side of his head. “oh yeah, that’s why.”

“i can’t give you anything for another couple of hours. ‘m sorry, love,” you push his hair away from his face.

“can i ask you something?” he asks and you hum. “last night, you said that you’ve given up so much to be with me and i don’t doubt that you have, i know that you have, but is there something that you’re not telling me.”

“it’s not important,” you shake your head.

he sits up then, staring down at you, “what is it, y/n?”

“do you- um, do you remember when i applied for that internship for digital marketing the summer after you graduated? after my freshman year?” you ask, pushing yourself up and scooting back against the headboard.

“yeah, you didn’t get it,” he looks at you confused. you look down at your hands and he takes a deep breath, “y/n, you didn’t-”

“they wanted me to fly to new york on draft weekend and i explained that i couldn’t then, but i could on monday. i wasn’t going to miss hearing your name being called or watching you put on that jersey, ty. they told me if i couldn’t be there on that saturday to just not bother,” you explain, “and instead of getting on a plane to new york, i got on one for dallas with you.”

“that would’ve given you so many opportunities, y/n. why would you do that?”

“because i love you and we’d been talking about it for years, you getting drafted. there was no way in hell i was going to miss it,” you shrug. “it’s fine though. i got the hockey gig and now we spend an almost unhealthy amount of time together so-”

“but that would’ve been so much better for you. you could’ve gone anywhere with that. europe, australia, anywhere. working for a college hockey team won’t look as good on job applications as that internship would have.”

“it’s in the past now. don’t worry about it. i’m happy where i am,” he reaches out for your hand and you curl your fingers around his. “wherever you are, that’s where i’m happy. fuck new york, europe, australia, or wherever. wisconsin is good for me right now. me and you, that’s all that matters.”

“it’s me and you, baby,” he mumbles and you smile, “me and you against the world, just like we’ve always said.”

[sky-of-dusk]

Kyouya : a positive character

There is something I want to point out about Kyouya.

Despite the whole lone-lion-thing and the I-don't-need-friends-thing, Kyouya is one of the most positive character of the show.

1. Kyouya never doubts of himself

I mean... like... NEVER.

"Who will win, me or Ginga ? Focus Kyouya. "

- about the Battle Blader semi-final (right after Hikaru and Tsubasa get crushed by Ryuuga)

"I never imagined you would be the first opponent I crush but I can't say I'm disappointed."

- to Ryuuga, episode 106

2. Kyouya's one of the characters who has the more fun in Beybattle

"Interesting, this is really kind of funny. Isn't it right, Ryuuga ?"

- to Ryuuga, episode 49

"I finally get to fight Ginga and Galaxy Pegasus at long last. It's going to be a blast."

- about his future duel against Ginga, episode 72

"Ha ha ha ! I'm enjoying this ! I'm enjoying it a lot Ginga. This is what a battle should be."

- to Ginga, episode 72

"Leone ? I don't know what just happens but I don't care !"

- to Leone, episode 103

"You like that pal ? Counter-mode is awesome."

- to Ryuuga, episode 106

A little note about the French dub : when Kyouya gets enthusiastic, he had a more teenagey-langage. That's really fun to hear.

3. The most important point

Kyouya always defuse the situations they get in. The gang is bound to save the world, they face great danger but, as soon as it ends, Kyouya rushes to act as usual. He's also shown as a supportive character. Not in the expensive way of Benkei, or the heartened way of Ginga, but still.

(I have hesitated to make this part in two parts, but his supportiveness is often tied up to his eagerness to defuse the situation.)

Season 1 (Beyblade Metal Fusion)

Kyouya is the first one to announce he'll take part of the Battle Bladers, after Ginga, and he acts all "this will be a great tournament, the Dark Nebula members are just some participants among others, I'm so impatient to face you there". That forces Ginga to choose between the friendship he had with the gang and his quest for vengeance (you can't be friend with someone and push them away all the time). And as soon Ginga chose, admitting it's a tournament and not only about him revenging from Ryuuga, the others step in and said they want to take part in too.

Kyouya : So then next time we met will be at the Battle Bladers tournament. (...) By winning the Battle Bladers I can squash Doji's plans and earn the title of the strongest blader. If you think about it, it's an opportunity no blader can pass up. Remember this Ginga. You won't be defeated by Ryuuga or Yuu, it'll be me, Kyouya, who does. (...) Don't worry. After defeating you, I'll be sure to settle the score with Ryuuga too.

(in French, he said “Je te promets de régler son compte à Ryuuga”. So "I promise you to settle the score with Ryuuga").

Ginga : He's mine and nothing will stand in my way. Both your Leone and Ryuuga's L-drago will be defeated by my Pegasus.

- episode 23

At the Battle Bladers, Kyouya still acts like this is only a tournament (and it's not an act, in view of his thoughts before his duel against Ryuuga xD). He's annoyed when Tsubasa behaves as a spy rather than a blader and he lectures him about it :

"What you have in mind is an insult not just to me but to the whole concept of Beyblade. (...) No matter how strong an opponent is, I'll face them head-on. I'll hold nothing back even if I'm putting all I have on the line, so be it. That's what it means to be a blader. (...) You'd better to start train harder you have to stay sharp because if you win your battle your next opponent is me."

- episode 42

Then, when Tsubasa is on his way to fight Ryuuga, Kyouya reminds him that the Battle Bladers is a tournament, he isn't about to reach the final yet so it's not the end.

"This tournament is supposed to decide who is the strongest blader in the world. Don't give him an inch, crush Ryuuga and L-Drago, end of the story. (...) I told you I'll be waiting at the semi-finals. I don't want to get cheated out on beating you so be there."

- Kyouya to Tsubasa, episode 45

He tells him they are supposed to face each other and that, instead of caring about that booooooooooooooring Ryuuga, he'd better worry about him cause he'll totally crushed him during the semi-finals. And, like every time he says something, his interlocutor reacts straight away and forgets everything but him. For a moment, Tsubasa gains confidence. But as soon as Tsubasa isn't looking at him anymore, Kyouya seems more tense.

During the Battle Bladers, we also have this scene where Kyouya acknowledges Benkei's progress, after their duel, while Benkei gets disheartened because he doesn’t success to win against him :

Kyouya : You’re stronger than you were.

Benkei : Really ? Do you mean it Kyouya ?

Kyouya : But you better get even stronger so you’re ready for our next battle. Got it ?

- episode 43

Season 2 (Beyblade Metal Masters)

When Kyouya challenges Ginga, after winning against the Chandora team, he waits for him to cheer up. He wants him to have fun at the prospect of their battle and not just battling for the sake of his team.

Kyouya : "What you have seen today is nothing at all. Hear me Ginga, I'm holding back Leone's true strenght for when I battle you."

Ginga : "I look forward to it. I'll be ready to meet your challenge."

- episode 70

(I love the way Kyouya’s face softens... It happens too when he cheers Benkei up and reminds Tsubasa the Battle Bladers is a tournament.)

Episodes later, Kyouya comes with the Wild Fang to help Ginga and the others against the Spiral Energy and HD Academy (because he wasn't worried, lol). He does what he needs to do : helps Masamune and Dashan, hurries up Ginga, fights Damian... and then, they success. All bladers gather together in front of the Academy building. They are relieved... Yuu began to tease Ginga about him taking advance on them...

...and then, Kyouya does what he's the best to do : drawing the attention to himself.

"So, once again, you keep all the good actions for yourself. It's a real drag."

- to Ginga, episode 102

Kyouya acts like what they just survived wasn't a big deal. Not only he could have done it, but, at least, it wouldn't have been as boring as his part. He just fought Damian and that wasn't that hard... And he pouted, showing that the situation isn't that serious.

Ginga begins to answer seriously but Kyouya interrupts him :

"Just what about you're rambling on over there ? As soon as Pegasus is fit, it's on."

Like, well, we just save the world again and everything but that's not as important as our blader careers, you know, and that's certainly not as important as our rivalry. And, just with these two sentences, everyone is like "yeah ! we're bladers, we have to train ! see you soon !"

Season 3 (Beyblade Metal Fury)

Kyouya acts this way again at the end of Fury. The legendary bladers are all relieved to have defeated Nemesis and finished their quest... but Kyouya, of course, can't let them think it's the end :

Aguma : Now, everything is finished.

Dynamis : Yes, our roles as legendary bladers are concluded.

Kyouya : What are you talking about ? This is just the beginning. My goal is to deafeat the legendary bladers one by one and then settle things with Ginga. Aguma and Dynamis, I finished my battles with you two. Chris, it's your turn next.

Chris : Well, sounds good. I'll battle you.

Aguma : Hang on. You and I are tied with one win each. Our score isn't settled yet.

Kyouya : Okay. That's fine. I'll crush you as many times as you want.

- episode 141

Like everytime Kyouya intervenes, everyone react at once at his words. They are borderline fighting to answer to Kyouya's challenge... Anyway, most of them are eager to battle him while they were saying moments before they were relieved the battle ended. Some words and they are all ready to act the way Kyouya wants.

However, there is a big difference this time :

Ginga seems to understand what Kyouya did.

(This could be linked to the fact Kyouya is a natural leader.)

[luxekook]

ego | jjk | harry potter au

⇥ pairing: gryffindor jeongukk x hufflepuff reader

⇥ genre: harry potter AU, smut, fluff, angst

⇥ summary: in which jeongguk is a cocky lil shit and the reader has to take him down a few pegs 

⇥ warnings: 18+, dirty talk, light smut, cursing

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

The wind whirled around me as I careened towards the glistening goal posts, imagining the opposing team’s Keeper darting back and forth in hopes of blocking the Quaffle that was currently tucked under my arm. I feigned left and the imaginary keeper followed suit. I threw right – Quaffle sailing through the rightmost gold hoop.

I smiled and dove down past the posts to catch up with my own throw. Even though it was still the first week of the new term, I was determined to prove my newly acquired captain-status. Hufflepuff hadn’t had a female captain in ages; and, paired with that, I was only a 6th year.

Luckily, I had a strong team behind me with mostly returning players who I knew would fiercely support me. Us Puffs stuck together. It was inherently in our blood to be loyal as hell to our own, and I thanked Merlin for that every day since receiving the captain’s badge.

As soon as I had hopped on the Hogwarts’ Express a few days prior, I had immediately been swept up in a giant bear hug by Jeong Yunho, one of the Hufflepuff beaters.

“Oh, captain! My captain!” he had dramatically cried, spinning me around. His Dead Poet’s Society reference was not lost on me since I had a muggle parent with excellent taste in movies. Similar reactions from the rest of the team followed suit over the course of the train ride and the Welcoming Feast.

Trials for our only open position of Seeker would take place this weekend with practices immediately starting Monday. We had high hopes for redemption this season after being crushed by Slytherin’s team of goons early on in the Cup tournament.

The Slytherin team’s head hooligan Kang Dokyun led his team with a nasty blend of intimidation and violent tactics. I was convinced that Slytherin didn’t even hold trials and that they just lined up the Slytherin boys, picking out the biggest of the lot. Basically, Slytherin was strong, but slow and slightly uncoordinated. We could beat them by exploiting their weaknesses – of that I was certain.

Ravenclaw would be a bit harder to conquer. Their team played with a level of elegance and intelligence that was so utterly Ravenclaw that even us Puffs got annoyed. Ravenclaw’s captain Yoon Jisoo constructed tactical plays so tricky that she was already recruited to play for Puddlemore next year. Their team was smart, but not completely unbeatable. The Ravenclaws sometimes got so ingrained in their methodical maneuvers that they failed to notice some of their opponents’ counterattacks. That was how they lost the Cup last term to Gryffindor.

Gryffindor was our toughest competition. Winning the Cup last term, the Gryffindor team was a nauseatingly perfect balance between brains and brawn. Their captain Jeon Jeongguk, now a 7th year, was renowned for his tyrannical practice regime that he put his team through. We’d only played Gryffindor once in the regular season last year, and we had held our own for a while until we started getting tired and they didn’t. Seems like Jeongguk knew his shit when it came to conditioning. Something that I was determined to emulate with my own team.

Jeongguk was also the best damn Keeper that Hogwarts had seen in a long time, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the looks of the professional Quidditch scouts that avidly attended his matches. He was way bigger than a typical Keeper – extremely tall with broad shoulders and giant paws for hands. However, the only thing bigger than his stature and talent was his fucking ego.

He carried himself like he was the king of the school, and, unfortunately, most people treated him like it. Girls especially flocked to him – mainly for two reasons: 1) Jeongguk was undoubtedly hot, and 2) he held the promise of a rich future. Personally, I cared for neither of those traits considering his appalling personality and pride.

That damned ego would be his downfall this season. I would make sure of it, I thought as I circled around the stadium and then landed to get a drink.

I was definitely above average on the Quidditch talent scale. Holding the current school record for most assists in a season, I considered myself the glue of the Hufflepuff team – a fact that our Head of House obviously agreed with. However, no one really talked about the glue of a team, they talked about the flashy glitter and the gold stars. I was fine with that. Being the underdog was nothing new to a Hufflepuff, and I planned on using that to our advantage this season. Who said Puffs couldn’t be a little devious?

I smirked to myself as I grabbed my broom, ready to get back to practicing. This would be our fucking year.

“Hey,” a deceptively sweet voice rang out from above me, “You mind sharing the pitch? I need to practice.”

My mood soured. I knew who that was. Kicking off the ground, I flew to face him, “Sure thing, Jeon, just stay out of my way.”

It was almost as if I’d slapped him across the face, “Excuse me?” he choked out, “Do I know you?”

Unbelievable. Jeongguk’s head was evidently so far up his own ass he couldn’t recognize opponents he’d been playing for years. “I guess not,” I countered. And with a flick of my ponytail, I took off towards the opposite end of the pitch.

Unfortunately, he followed, “Are you a Gryffindor? If so, you should come to tryouts tomorrow. You’re pretty fast and we need a new Chaser.”

“Not a Gryffindor,” I called out, dipping low to the ground to scoop up my old practice Quaffle, “But I am a Chaser.”

Jeongguk was still tailing me, and I pulled to a stop to face him, “I thought you had to practice?”

He mirrored my position and crossed his arms. I tried (and failed) to stop myself from noticing how his biceps flexed and how a hint of his famed phoenix tattoo curled up his neck. Merlin, even I couldn’t deny he was hot as fuck. The recent summer months seemed to have blessed his skin with a glowing tan that accentuated the warmth of his dark eyes. It also seemed like he forgot what a haircut was as I watched the wind tousle his slightly curling hair.

“I do,” his eyes were narrowed as he cleared his throat, “I just have to make sure you’re not spying for another team.”

All thoughts of him being fine flew out the Owlery as I scowled. I refused to be intimidated by some arrogant asshole, “Did you not hear me when I said to stay on the opposite end of the pitch, Jeon? What kind of self-respecting spy would ask that?”

“You’re a Slytherin,” Jeongguk declared, his tone too sure for my liking.

He was really aggravating me now, and it took a lot for a Puff to get pissed off, “So, just because I have a semblance of a backbone, I’m a Slytherin? You need to brush up on your House knowledge.”

He was quiet, his expression contemplative, his jaw clenched. His eyes were scanning me with an intensity I was not sure I liked. And then he did something I liked even less: “I propose a game,” his mouth twisted upwards in a smirk, “You say you’re a Chaser?”

I gave a slight tilt of my chin in affirmation. He resumed, “Well, then you must know I’m a Keeper.” He paused, grinning wickedly, waiting for me to react to the double entendre. Eyebrows raised at my pointed silence, he continued, “And we both need to practice… So how ‘bout you try to score on me and for every shot I block you have to answer one of my questions.”

This motherfucker right here. I summoned my inner Helga to give me the strength to deal with this Gryffindor prick, “Say I was to agree to this, what would I get if I score on you?”

The laugh I got in response made all thoughts of remaining a kind and patient Puff evaporate faster than a weak Patronus.

He was still laughing when he noticed I looked ready to Avada him wandless, “Okay, okay. What do you want if you score?” He barely got the words out in between chuckles.

“To come to a Gryffindor practice.”

That shut him up real fast, “No fucking way. I don’t need you distracting my players.”

My nose crinkled, “Distracting? I would just be sitting in the stands, you prick.”

His jaw ticked as he rolled his eyes, “You could be on the furthest corner of the pitch and you’d still distract them, jagi.”

“Don’t call me that. And, pray tell, why I would distract them?” Our brooms were now practically touching as we had instinctively moved closer to one another. I could see the sweat glistening on his brow and the shadow of stubble on his jaw. Merlin, he was potent.

“Because,” Jeongguk paused, acting like this was the most obvious answer in the world, “You’re hot.”

I blinked. And blinked again, “Are you serious?” He opened his mouth to respond. “Nope, don’t answer that, Jeon,” I brushed right over his attempt to answer my rhetorical question, “So, do we have a deal or not? If you’re the esteemed Keeper that you clearly think you are, it shouldn’t be a problem for you to block all my shots, should it?”

My words echoed around us. He looked conflicted, but I knew his ego would not let my challenge go, “Deal. Five shots from the penalty mark.”

He flew towards the goal posts, “Looking forward to getting my questions answered, love,” he bellowed back at me.

I mentally flipped him off as I took off after him, clutching my Quaffle.

Sending out a plea to Merlin, Helga and everyone in between, I pulled to a stop at the penalty mark and pondered how I wanted to play this. He obviously thought he would save all five attempts. I spared him a glance and glower as I notice he was slouching on his broom with a lazy smirk, clearly not taking me as a serious threat.

Fine, I would just have to hustle him. He was asking for it at this point.

I got into formation. As much as it would pain me to mess up this shot on purpose, I knew that I had to in order to make my plan work.

Taking off towards the posts, my movement caused Jeongguk to finally move into a somewhat defensive position. I feigned right, doing so in a way too obvious manner. Hurling the Quaffle towards the top hoop, I watched expectantly as he deflected it with just a slight flick of his hand.

“Come on,” Jeongguk laughed, “You can do better than that, jagi.” He flew over to me and when I stretched to take back the Quaffle he now held in his hand, he shifted it out of reach, “Uh-uh, nope. It’s question time. What’s your name?”

How predictable. “It’s (y/n). Now give me the Quaffle.”

“Last name?” Jeongguk kept the Quaffle out of my hands.

“That’s a separate question, Jeon. You never specified that I give you my full name.” It was my turn to smirk as he threw the Quaffle back at me and headed back to the posts mumbling about loopholes and how I must’ve been a Ravenclaw.

I lined back up for the second shot. I had to make this one a little bit better than the last to show that I was trying, but not too much better that he’d be prepared for my final shots.

I ducked down, twisting around to head towards the right post with my full focus on the hoop. I launched the Quaffle. Jeongguk swooped up to catch it in a way that was entirely too elaborate for such a lame throw. He was clearly showing off – an action that I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the meaning behind.

Jeongguk made his way over to me, grinning, “Second question, jagi. Full name, please.”

“(y/f/n) (y/l/n),” I muttered, eyes scanning his face for signs of recognition and hands grabbing the Quaffle away from him.

He looked puzzled, “(y/l/n)? Why does that sound so familiar?”

Before he could think on it further, I pushed his shoulder, “Back to the posts. You got your answer.”

Well, I had attempted to push his shoulder. He didn’t even flinch at my shove. His eyes darted to where my hand now laid on his chest. I removed it faster than a Wronski Feint, trying to ignore the tingles that shot up my arm.

Our eyes connected and his were blazing as his mouth crept into a slow smile, “Like your hands on me.” Before I could formulate a reply, he flew off and I resolved that I would make this next shot as if my life depended on it.

We faced each other. I shifted the Quaffle from hand to hand and took off towards him. I gave him no tells, no feints, nothing. This seemed to throw him off for a split second, but that second was all I needed to send the Quaffle sailing through the bottom hoop.

“What the fuck was that?” Jeongguk yelled as he got all up in my face.

I bit back a smile. “Beginner’s luck?” I quipped, loving how his face had darkened perceptibly, “Don’t worry. I’m sure I can pick up some more tips at your practice.”

Unable to keep my grin in check any longer, I smile widely as he lets out a stream of curses that would make even my old crotchety aunt blush.

We resumed our positions. This time he seemed more alert and watchful. He was getting wary of me, despite my claim that it was just luck. Maybe he knew better after all…

“That won’t happen again, (y/n). Don’t get used to it!” he shouted from the posts.

…Or not.

I took off. Luck be damned. I zigzagged back and forth towards him. Throwing the Quaffle up in the air, I quickly rolled off my broom, sharply grabbing its end and swinging it up to hit the Quaffle mid-air through the center goalpost. A perfectly executed Finbourgh Flick. Regaining my seat on my broom I sailed back to the penalty line and turned back to face Jeongguk.

He looked utterly gobsmacked, “Beginner’s luck? Beginner’s fucking luck? Who the fuck are you?”

I grinned victoriously at his wounded ego, “You know my name, Jeon. Now you can use it at two practices.”

“(y/f/n) (y/l/n), (y/f/n) (y/l/n)… fucking hell,  you’re the new Hufflepuff captain,” he gawked at me.

“Bingo, Gryff,” I laughed, “Took you long enough.”

“Why did I think you were a bloke? I would have remembered such a—” he cut himself off, “You hustled me! There is no way I’m letting you into my practices now.”

We were nose to nose now as I responded, “A deal’s a deal. I thought you Gryffindors were all about honor.”

His face was thunderous, “And I thought you Hufflepuffs were all about fairness.”

“We are,” I said plainly, “We just don’t take lightly to intimidation. Now come on, we’ve got one round left.”

A range of emotions moved across his face to settle in a heated look that I couldn’t quite decipher, “Fine, jagi,” his molten gaze darted to my mouth, “Give it your best shot.”

Swallowing hard, I shook my head, trying to clear my brain of entirely too inappropriate thoughts of me and Jeongguk. As much as I attempted to refocus on making my final shot, my attention wasn’t fully there.

And I fucked it up. Jeongguk dove to catch my throw mid-air, and he sped towards me triumphantly, “Slipping already? What was that?”

I blushed. He noticed.

“Come on,” he said, “I need a drink and then you need to answer my last question.”

I followed him to the ground, cursing my treacherous body for reacting so obviously. My subconscious battled:

‘He’s a player!’ the imaginary Dumbledore on my right shoulder boomed.

‘Kiss him. Now!’ hissed the fictitious Voldemort from the other side.

However, all thoughts evacuated my brain at the sight of Jeongguk peeling off his shirt and taking a long sip from his water bottle. My traitorous eyes flew over his torso. I took in his defined abs, his chiseled arms and his fucking beautiful phoenix tattoo that spanned the entirety of his left shoulder, left upper back, and a portion of his neck.

Then I noticed his eyes were watching me right back. And they were all to amused to be innocent… “Are you seducing me?”

He spit out his mouthful of water, laughing, “Why? Is this working for you?”

My eyes now resembled slits as I glared at him, “Is that your last question?”

“No!” His response came so fast I jolted back on impulse, “No, it’s not…”

He trailed off as he prowled towards me. I stepped back. He kept coming. I stepped back further.

“Why are you running, jagi?” his words were too soft and too intense for my liking. I took another step back and bumped up against the stands. His grin in response was predatory as he caged me in between the stands and his body, his arms on either side of my head.

“Nowhere to run now, little Hufflepuff…” he dragged a finger along the hollows of my throat. He definitely felt the rapid pounding of my pulse, his eyes darkening to the point that they almost seemed black.

I glared defiantly at him, refusing to be daunted by his size or his words. He smirked, “Your last question: do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?”

I stopped breathing. He waited, a look of uncertainty flickered on his face so briefly I almost thought I’d imagined it.

That little flare of vulnerability – that should not have been as appealing to me as it was – helped me to regain some of my bearings, “And how much do you want to kiss me? I need a scale of reference.”

He smiled crookedly as he leaned in even further, lips brushing against me as he whispered into my neck, “So fucking bad.”

His tongue darted across my skin as he dragged it up towards my ear. Biting it softly, he murmured, “Well?”

Fuck it all.

My hands latched onto his shoulders and his head snapped up. Raising to my tiptoes, I kissed him. He let out a rough groan, sounding like I was killing him. His hands slid down my body to squeeze my ass before hoisting me up. My legs circled his lean hips as his teeth caught my bottom lip in a faint bite. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling slightly. His hips pressed into mine, drawing a moan from my lips. He smiled against my mouth.

I nipped his lip now in retribution, but it seemed to only urge him on. One hand came up to remove my hair-tie, flinging it over his shoulder. I made a noise of protest, but he just kissed me harder.

How the fuck was he holding me up with one hand?

I prided myself on being a pretty thick bitch, and he was over here acting like I weighed nothing. My fingernails slid down his back, raking over the hard muscles and feeling how they flexed and shifted under my touch.

I don’t know how long we spent making out against the stands, but soon enough we heard voices coming from around the corner. Ripping my mouth away from his, I jumped out of his embrace, landing on shaky legs.

His arm wrapped around my waist as he steadies me. He was breathing just as hard as me and I could feel his heartbeat racing. I tugged away from him to retrieve my hair-tie from the ground and put my now wild hair back into its ponytail.

I could feel Jeongguk’s eyes on me all the while. I looked at him. His lips were swollen, his hair was a disheveled mess, his neck was displaying a rather nice hickey that I was sure was mirrored several times over on my own neck. A rare feeling of pride shot through me, and as he opened his mouth to say something, I shook my head and placed a finger over his lips.

“I’ll see you at your practice, Jeon.” I placed a quick kiss on his cheek, grabbed my broom and walked off.

As I strode away, I heard him grumbling under his breath: “Everybody warns you about the Slytherins. Nobody fucking warns you about the Hufflepuffs. Fucking hell…”

I smiled all the way back to the Common Room.