#hockey colouring book

[miadarkarcher]

[obsob]

oooooooooough i love you i love you i love you!!!! hand in loving hand !!!!!!

[residenthughes]

opera house - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x afab reader

word count: 2.5k

tags/warnings: +18 nsfw, so minors dni, oral sex (m on f), dirty talk (if you can call it that?), no mention of y/n, pet names (baby, princess)

summary: reading is your favourite pastime. jack makes it harder than anticipated.

notes: so...🫣 this happened. it's a small little thing that started out with me just wanting to write about how pretty jack is only to turn into the respectful pile of filth. don't write smut much so apologies if this isn't to your liking, but hopefully i'll be back with something better. also, the sentence in italics is a quote from the book mentioned in the fic. much love! <3

As the cold November climate nips at your flesh and colours the sky in hues of grey, you nestle in the cosiness of your home, warm and sheltered with your treasured fuzzy socks on as you curl up on your bed with one of the books you’ve been meaning to read. Jack says it’s a bad habit of yours: buying books that collect dust on your shelf, to which you quickly argue that he’s the one enabling your ‘bad habit’ by constantly buying them for you - your Goodreads profile bookmarked in his phone for safe keeping. An endearing act of service, all of which he is no stranger to - gifting said books in the form of a bouquet every time he leaves for a long road trip, taking out the trash because he knows it’s your least favourite chore, curling up with you now, sweetly bundled in between your legs as you two find peace in the silence you share. It’s like a warm hot chocolate on a chilly day like today, your connection smooth and comforting, wrapping you in the warmth of its embrace.

You peer beyond the top of your book, catching an eyeful of the back of Jack’s head and his loose curls, the soft clicks of his gamer control sounding as his eyes focus on the TV screen a few metres ahead. Your sugary thoughts of how endearing your long-term boyfriend can be - always is - overflow like lava, the smile on your face terribly enamoured as your fingers card through his hair, curling the soft locks around your index finger.

Like clockwork, Jack leans into your touch, slouching further into his position in between your thighs, laying a chilly cheek against the flesh of your thighs.

You squirm against the brush of his eyelashes against your skin. “That tickles.”

“Uh huh,” he absently answers, tapping away at his gamer control. “Does this?”

A delicate kiss marks you, Jack’s head going back to laying against your thigh as he directs his attention to the game set out against the TV.

“No,” you blush. “But, that was nice.”

A huff of amusement sounds from Jack and instantly, you know what position you've put yourself in by saying that. “Bet it was. Aren’t you busy with that book of yours?”

You bite back, the muscles of your thighs tightening their grip around your boyfriend. “Sometimes a distraction is necessary.”

The clicks of his gamer control halt and silence envelopes the room, your eyebrow raised as his on-screen character dies as a result of his negligence. 

Jack clears his throat, his body shuffling against yours as he readjusts his position, restarting the game. “Maybe you’re right about that, baby.”

A pout remains settled against your lips as your eyes squint at your partner, your suspicion towards his action not enough to distract you from the habitual motion of your fingers as they thread through Jack’s hair. You raise your opened book back to eye-level, not batting an eyelash.

It’s when you’ve gotten perhaps three sentences into your book that Jack breaks the silence. “What’s the story about?”

“The book I’m currently reading?” Jack hums in reply. “Oh, it’s a spinoff of a series I’ve been meaning to read. It’s basically a college romance story about a girl aspiring to be on the national ice hockey team and her getting help from this guy she met years ago, called Ryder. Unexpectedly smutty, 10/10 would recommend.”

Jack laughs with you at your nasty comment, body vibrating against yours as his chuckle courses through him. You lower your book again.

“You and your smutty books,” Jack snickers to himself, eyes trained ahead of him. There’s a pause before he speaks again. “In what ways is it unexpectedly smutty?”

Despite how long you’ve been with Jack and the comfort you've established living alongside him, the question does make you a bit flustered, crimsoning as you look away, avoiding any view of him. “Well, it’s pretty raunchy up front. Like how they’ve done some naughty things in the shower - quite tame, but I’ve also just read that Ryder did some things when they went to go see the opera.”

“What things?” Jack asks, point blank.

Now, it’s time for you to clear your throat. Cheeks tinted. “Do I even have to say, Jack?”

The pause screen displays itself against the TV, the clicks of his controller no more as Jack shifts once again within your grasp, body turning as he lays his stomach against the comfort of the mattress, pools of azure staring into yours. Your heart thuds in your chest.

“Yes, I wanna hear what things you’re reading,” he says easily as if he isn’t inciting violence in your chest right now, the corner of his pink lips curved softly as he tilts his head against your thigh. “All of it.”

Suddenly, the temperature in the room escalates from toasty warm to scorching hot, a familiar flame in the pits of your stomach igniting as you’ve somehow found yourself in such a predicament - backed into a corner and at a loss for words.

“He,” you stammer, averting your eyes because all Jack’s eyes do is look at you, his burning gaze elevating the heat that dances against the surface of your cheeks. “He fingers her in the opera.”

You whisper that last part but Jack hears you judging by the faint chuckle coming from him. “He fingers who at the opera?”

He accents his point with a kiss against your thigh, this time the gesture conjuring a polar opposite sensation as goosebumps riddle your skin. You let out a shaky breath you hadn’t known you were holding, looking again at your partner to still find him looking right back at you, eyelids heavy and eyes dark. You have to look away.

You gulp. “Gigi - her name is Gigi.”

You finally muster some sort of courage you’ve had to find within your situation when you hear Jack shift again, eyes capturing your boyfriend’s arms coming up to circle around your thighs, eyes never leaving yours as his hands find purchase against your skin, thumbs absently caressing the surface much like you did earlier with his hair. 

“Is that short for something?” Jack accents his question with another kiss, his touch searing. 

“No,” you gulp, voice foolishly unsteady as your eyes study Jack’s movements with caution. “I mean, Ryder jokes that her name is Gisele, but that’s-”

“Guys like to tease,” he kisses a little higher against your thigh as if to prove his point. “Especially with girls they like.”

“I don’t think that’s appreciated, Jack.” 

You’re talking about a completely different thing now - a conversation within a conversation. 

“I don’t know about that, baby,” whilst still staring at you, his teeth manage to nip at a small sliver of your skin, numbness plaguing your limbs. “Read it to me.”

Your brows knit together, puzzled as ever. “What?”

“You heard me,” declares Jack, his kisses abundantly littering the expanse of your thigh as your mind begins to spiral. “Read it to me.”

Your mind is frazzled, brain working overtime to comprehend the sudden turn of events, all the while Jack takes it upon himself to sit pretty in between your legs and touch you as if made from porcelain - delicate and tender, a sharp contrast to the emotions bathing you in lust. Jack glances up at you one more time, button nose nuzzling against your inner thigh as he gives you a knowing look, his lips preoccupied. You obey wordlessly, uneasy eyes still on him as you bring your book back upwards, its previous position altered so you can manage to steal a look at Jack out of your peripheral.

Out loud, you begin to read to him the aftermath of the opera scene, a more tame development following as you manage to get through the next page unscathed. Jack’s kisses at first, are a bit distracting and have your voice betray you, but they’re sporadic and by the time you’ve turned the page, you’re already used to the sensation. You even achieve some comfort in his touch, but that doesn’t last long because when you’re in the midst of your storytelling, you feel Jack’s fingers hook around your shorts’ waistband.

Immediately, you lower your book, a chill running down your spine. “What are you doing?”

He bats his long eyelashes, almost mockingly. “Listening to you.”

“Jack.” For once, your tone is firm, watching aimlessly as he inches the material past your hip bones.

“Lift your hips a little or I won’t be able to get these off you,” he insists, a convincing smile settled amongst his charming features that express his pleasure in this all. “Unless you wanna keep them on?”

It’s a rhetorical question, a trap set up to see if you’ll bite and despite it all, the excitement of what’s to come leads you right where Jack wants you. Lifting your hips with an embarrassing ache in between your legs as you lie in anticipation, continuing on with your reading as Jack goes back to teasing you endlessly.

“Gettin’ pretty worked up over this story, huh?” echoes Jack. “I can tell.”

To demonstrate the meaning of his words, he blows a cool breeze against you that makes you mewl and draw your thighs closer at the sensation. Heart thudding against your chest, your bewildered gaze gravitates back to Jack who kisses you through the fabric of your underwear and has you fumbling for words.

“I didn’t say you could stop reading,” Jack removes his lips, peering up at you with a look that melts you into a pathetic pool of yourself. “You stop, I stop. Sound fair?”

That sounds anything but fair, but who are you to say so? He clearly holds all the power in this situation, you dancing right in the palm of his hand. This has escalated beyond a point of no return and you’re not backing out now so you oblige, opening your mouth to read but uttering out nothing more than a moan as Jack pulls your underwear to the side, his fingers gliding through your wet folds. 

“So satisfying to tease you when your reactions are this good,” he rasps, followed by a low chuckle as his calloused fingertip circles around your clit, eliciting the buck of your hips and the waiver in your voice. “Anyways, you were saying?”

You’re grasping for straws here, trying to tie yourself down to the little sanity (and patience) you have as your frantic eyes try and find where you last left off, straying away every couple of words as Jack does nothing more than use his fingers to distract you. 

“Words, baby. Use your words,” he instructs, and it’s the sexist thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life. “We follow...”

“We follow..the people,” you falter, voice wobbly. “We follow the people in…”

Somewhere in that sentence, a hefty exhale blows past your mouth as Jack moves two fingers into you, the curl of them accentuating the end of your sentence with a moan. 

“Always sound so pretty with my fingers in you,” muses Jack, tone low and memorised as he works said fingers in and out of you, your slick building all around his fingers. “Can’t get enough of it.”

You do a subpar job of reading the next few lines as Jack’s fingers pick up the pace, moving deeper in you to milk every reaction you give him mixed in with your slurred words. Your attempt at remaining coherent diminishes completely when Jack’s lips find their way to your swollen clit, a light press of the lips against the hood of your clit before he’s sucking on the bud.

Your words come out in stutters, voice trembling pathetically as he wraps you around his fingers, making a mess of you in the form of kitten licks against your clit and nibble fingers coaxing your building orgasm out of you. His motions stop every time you get lost in the feeling of him sucking your clit, fingers tangled in his locks of hair. And with a whine, you compel with his previous instructions, reading along with the world’s prettiest distraction in between your legs. 

Somehow, you make it to the next page without much delay, Jack’s mouth trained on you as he laps up every bit of you, tongue drawing all kinds of figures against or around your clit. You’re clenching around his fingers more than you can forgive yourself for, body running hot as the sounds of your slick echo throughout the room, the pit in your stomach only growing.

“Just like that, princess,” he hums against your clit, the sensation drawing a tight-lipped whimper from you as your hips follow the vibration. “How many more pages until the chapter’s finished? I don’t think you’re gonna last long.”

And, it’s all true. Body twitching, toes curling and cunt spasming around his fingers that curl in you. Your brain can barely keep up at this point. “So many.”

Jack tsks, his thumb replacing his lips against your clit as he moves it in slow circles. “You think you can hold on till then?”

You answer truthfully, however embarrassing it may be. “No.” 

He laughs briefly when he hits that spongy part inside of you, your back bowing off the stacked pillows behind you as Jack continues to hit the exact spot that has you seeing stars. 

“How ‘bout a compromise?” Jack starts, your hips lifting to meet the insistent thrust of his fingers. “You tell me how badly you wanna come, and you get to ditch the book whilst I make you come. Sounds good?”

An awfully generous offer considering how your brain has turned to mush and can barely keep up with any of the inked words on the page right now. So, you agree. Enthusiastically.

“Please,” you mewl with a puckered forehead, gazing down at your beautiful boyfriend with his tousled hair and glossy lips. A sight for sore eyes. “Please, J. I wanna come.”

“How bad?” He doesn’t miss a beat, eyes challenge yours.

“So bad,” you keen when his other hand lays over your stomach, applying pressure to the spongy spot that teethers you on the very edge. “Fuck, it’s only you. Only you can…make me feel good. Please, J.” 

The begging works. It always works and with that, you drop your book, long discarded amidst the mess of the sheets as your fingers tangle in Jack’s hair as he sucks roughly on your clit again. Rocking up against his mouth, the angle of his fingers renders you completely at his mercy, uttering stuttery breaths as he brings you over the edge, applying pressure in all the right places because he knows your body better than you do, gushing slick flowing from you as you ride out your high, brain reduced to syrup. 

He doesn’t even wait before you’ve caught your breath that he sends you a flirtatious wink in between your quivering thighs. “So, opera date next week?”

[upsidedownwithsteve]

hello! hope ur doing well! love ur writing and excited for the blurb weekend!! was wondering if i could request number 2 and 8 from the pining list with steve harrington? love the way you write him always!! thank you!!!

“doing something nice for the other impulsively,” and “getting flustered when the other is nice to them.”

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Everyone knew about your crush on Steve. Everyone— well, apart from the boy himself. You weren’t sure how you could possibly hide it, your eyes wide and cheeks hot everytime he was near, words caught in your throat when he spoke to you and god, it took too long for you to be able to settle in his presence.

Which is why you’d taken to sticking to Robin’s side when he invited everyone around to his pool, the summer too hot and too sticky for doing much else. The Indiana heat was borderline cruel that year, endless blue skies pretty and relentless, no clouds for the sun to hide behind.

So everyone piled in to the Harrington’s backyard, swimsuits already on under shorts and baggy shirts, sliders and jelly shoes kicked to the side as everyone stripped at the sight of cool, blue water. Eddie had a radio playing, a somewhat playful argument between him and Nancy ensuing as music choices were discussed and Jonathan took to the shade, pulling a book out of his bag, a vibrant yellow bucket hat that El had gifted him pulled low on his brow.

Then Steve had made his way around you all, shirtless and with a baseball cap shoved on his messy hair, backwards and sporting a hockey team you didn’t know much about. He was already so tanned, prettier than normal with more freckles and flushed cheeks. The sight of him made your breath hitch, shoulder squaring off as you watched him hand a beer to Eddie, another to Jonathan.

Beside you, Robin snorted, shaking her head and watching you from behind cherry coloured sunglasses. You’d set up camp with her on the other side of the pool, heads burning from the sun but your feet dipped in the water, both of you smelling like chlorine and sunscreen.

You frowned, already waiting on the teasing that naturally came. You played dumb regardless, staring at your feet in the water, your skin a shade of blue, the lines of your toes rippling. “What?” You already sounded so defensive.

“Nothing,” Robin snorted. But she pushed her shoulder into yours, sticky with heat and lotion. “Just wondering when you’ll be able to look at Steve without absolutely falling apart.”

Your scowl deepened along with your embarrassment. But you feigned ignorance and watched Nancy fish out her lemon water from her bag. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniffed.

Robin just hummed, grinning she stared across the yard. “Interesting.”

“Seriously, I do not fall—“

A shadow fell over both of you briefly before a broad shoulder brushed your own. Steve sat down next to you despite there being more room next to Robin, the heat from all his bare skin making you so, so aware of his proximity. You blinked, lips still parted from talking but the words had died off on your tongue. You felt the familiar creep of warmth along your chest, up your neck.

“Hey,” Steve greeted, his smile too kind, too pretty. “I brought you a drink.”

Instead of a cold can of beer, like he’d handed the boys, Steve offered you a glass. One of his mom’s fancy ones with the patterns along the side, a rosy pink tint to the liquid inside. It was filled with ice, fizzing and bubbling and it smelled like lemons and cherries. It even had a circle of the yellow citrus floating on top, summer in a cup.

It felt hard to talk when you took it from him, fingers brushing and you felt like a kid, like a teenager, a crush that was achingly awful, all consuming and gut wrenching.

He was so pretty and so close and—

“What’s that?” Robin peered over your shoulder, still grinning, looking particularly pleased with the situation she got to witness. “Where’s mine, dingus?”

The boy glared at his friend before he shrugged, all nonchalance and he gestured to you with cheeks more pink than your juice. “It’s just something I mixed up, alright? And you like beer, okay? You can grab a can, your legs work.”

You weren’t sure what made your heart beat faster, the fact that Steve had remembered you didn’t like beer or that he’d went out of his way to make you a drink that was more than a glass of soda.

Robin scoffed but she moved regardless, water dripping on your knees as she got up and walked around the pool, glaring at Steve as she went. “I see how it is,” she told him. “S’real cute, Steven. You could be more subtle next time.”

You were burning, you were sure of it. And Steve seemed to feel the same because he was red now, the tips of his ears scarlet and he flipped Robin off before she disappeared into the kitchen.

And then you realised you were alone with the boy. Something that didn’t happen often, something that you usually tried hard to avoid because you were floundering, both hands clasping the freezing cold glass and god, god— you were so aware that your body was mostly bare, your swimsuit green and suddenly too tight.

Steve’s naked chest was alarmingly close, moles and freckles dotted across sunkissed skin and with a smattering of hair, his arms corded with muscle you hadn’t really seen before, brushing up against yours as he glanced over at you.

He looked shy. Was Steve shy? Was that possible?

You realised you were staring a second too late, eyes flickering back to the pool and you tried not to cringe, or do something stupid, like tumble into the pool and float to the bottom.

So you slipped the straw Steve had placed in your cup between your lips, taking a sip. Bubbles touched your tongue, lemon and cherry and sweetness and tart filling your mouth. You hummed, taking another long drag and you could feel the boy smiling.

“D’you like it?”

You nodded, barely able to lift your head to meet Steve’s gaze but when you did, you were so glad of it. He was beaming, looking too pleased as you took another sip and his knee was bumping against yours, his hand on the pool edge and close to your thigh.

“It’s delicious,” you managed. “You didn’t have to though, I could’ve had some water or—“

Steve waved away your words, nose wrinkled and he tutted. “Nah, what? S’no big deal.”

It was. It was a big deal.

It felt momentous, actually.

“Did you make more?” You dared to ask, feeling brave with the sun in your eyes and Steve’s leg against your own. The water didn’t feel so cold anymore. “For everyone else?”

Steve couldn’t hide his smile then, lips pressed together and eyes crinkling as he shook his head, looking guilty and handsome for it. “No, just you.” He leaned in, like he was sharing a secret. “Don’t tell the rest of them, but, I like you the most.”

You felt hotter than the sun.

[youcouldmakealife]

Gérard/Sven/Yvette; up to snuff

As we approach the final two weeks publication, here's the last of the extras! For the prompt: I would love early relationship Sven/Yvette/Gerard, angst or fluff or first times or hurt/comfort.

(It's early relationship! But maybe not the OT3 one)

“I have a question for you,” Sven says.

“If it’s about that shirt, the answer is no,” Gérard says.

Sven looks down. “It’s a no?” he says.

“I feel like I’m looking at one of those books of optical illusions,” Gérard says.

“I liked those books,” Sven says.

Gérard did too. He doesn’t even mind the shirt, dizzying as it is, though Sven would get fined if the team saw it, and he clearly knows that, since this is the first time Gérard has seen it.

“It’s visual stimulation,” Sven insists. Gérard has to wonder, sometimes, where he comes from. Ottawa, by way of Sweden, but Gérard knows a lot of Ottawans, and a few Swedes too. They also find Sven inexplicable.

“Don’t you think Yvette gets enough of that in a classroom?” Gérard asks. He can’t think of anything more visually stimulating than an elementary school classroom. It’s almost like that’s the point.

“You have a point,” Sven says. “I’ll change.”

“No patterns!” Gérard says.

“You’re no fun!” Sven says.

Gérard’s fun. At least, he remembers being fun. Lately, perhaps, not so much. Perhaps he’d be more fun if Sven wasn’t constantly asking him for advice before his dates with Yvette.

He’s trying not to be weird about it. It’s hard, though, when Sven’s asking how to look sharp for a woman he only met because Gérard met her first. That is, when he isn’t asking where to take her, what to do, how to act, like he’s forgotten everything in the face of meeting her.

Gérard would think Sven had never dated before, but he was coming to the bitter end of a two year relationship when they met, and he’s dated a few women since, though nothing was serious enough for Gérard to meet them, let alone the rest of the team.

Yvette has met the team, of course. Day one, but Sven’s invited her to every event open to significant others since. She’s only come to one, to Sven’s disappointment — unsurprisingly, the schedule of a hockey player clashes with the schedule of a teacher — but if Gérard needed a sign that Sven was serious about her — he didn’t — that would have made it very obvious. The team’s important to him. More important than anything. Though perhaps not lately.

Sven was hesitant to ask him for advice at first, considering the situation, but Gérard told him it was fine, and he can’t be mad at Sven for taking him at his word. And it should be fine. He wants it to be fine. He’s sure it will be, eventually, and he’s waiting for that.

And who else could Sven ask for advice, really?

His parents? They’re somehow even weirder than Sven is — everything about him was explained the day Gérard met him. Or, nothing was explained, he’s still inexplicable, but at least he figured out where it came from.

Friends? Sven doesn’t have them, outside the team.

So then, the only alternative is their teammates. Yvette seems almost as smitten as Sven, which is saying something, since Gérard wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already surreptitiously measuring her ring finger whenever they hold hands. But even with that latitude, if Sven follows their boneheaded advice he’ll almost certainly end up single again. Every one of their teammates in a relationship got to that point despite everything about them. Gérard is saying that with affection — mostly — but even so.

“How’s this?” Sven asks, emerging from his bedroom, then striking a pose as Gérard surveys him.

“You look good,” Gérard say.

He does. The shirt’s a solid colour, thankfully. Sven was unable to resist pairing it with a patterned tie, but they work together. His hair’s sticking up a little, probably from the quick change, but it’s endearing. Gérard thinks Yvette would find it endearing too, but then, he doesn’t really know that, does he?

“You need to fix your hair, though,” he says, and Sven runs his fingers through it, messing it up worse until Gérard takes over, finger combing it into submission. His hair’s soft and thin, almost downy, like a child’s. Gérard tries not to linger.

“I’m nervous,” Sven admits. Gérard’s well aware of that, though there isn’t really anything to be nervous about at this point. It’s not like it’s a first date, or meeting the parents — if it wasn’t already clear they were serious, the fact she’s already met Sven’s and Sven’s already met hers, well, Gérard thinks that makes it very clear.

Sven’s parents adored her, and Gérard’s not surprised. Sven’s unsure how her parents felt about him, and Gérard’s not really surprised by that either. He bets they liked him, though. It’s hard not to be a little overwhelmed when the full force of his attention aimed at you, but it’s hard not to be bowled over by it either.

“You have nothing to be nervous about,” Gérard says.

“I know,” Sven says, cracking a small, nervous smile.

How could Yvette be anything but endeared? Gérard never had a chance, but she didn’t have one either.

“Thank you,” Sven says. “For, you know.”

“Saving Yvette’s eyesight?” Gérard asks.

“Yes,” Sven says. “Thank you for that.”

“Any time,” Gérard says, and wishes he was strong enough not to mean it.

[tomtenadia]

Check My Heart - ch 1

Hello all,

well let's ;try this. It might be that the NHL season is currently over and I desperately miss hockey and that's why I started working ion this fic again... I don't know... I have only 8 chapters down and io am still a bit on the stuck side... Not sure if this one is people's cup of tea but it's worth trying.

Rowan is #43 - that is the number of Capt. Quinn Hughes for the Vancouver Canucks, Fen is #35 the same as Thatcher Demko and then Lorcan is #9 the same as J.T Miller... basically my fave hockey players...

TWHL is basically the women's league - the idea taken from the PWHL that debuted this year...

After this foreword I'll leave you to it.

CW: panic attacks, mention of blood.

PROLOGUE

He couldn’t breath. His body was heavy and could not move.

And blood. On his lips he could taste blood. The distinctive irony scent hitting his nostrils.

All around him voices, people shouting his name.

He tried to speak but the sense of suffocation grew stronger when his body refuse to respond to his commands.

Rowan tried to order his body to open his eyes but when the darkness did not leave him he panicked. He was trapped, wanted to scream.

His stomach lurched furiously and then nothing.

Rowan woke up abruptly, sitting on his bed, realising that his t-shirt was soaked through with sweat. His heart raced in his chest. Another dream and always the same. Always the confused dream of him laying on the ice. The panic, the fear and the inability to move. 

His team mates told him that after the hit, he had crashed on the ice and hit it very hard with his head after the helmet snapped at the brutal crash against the boards. He had gained some consciousness but just enough to be sick from the concussion. The blood that he remembers was from the visor that has smashed during the hit and cut his face.

Rowan stood, walking to his drawer to grab a new t-shirt then slowly he padded to Maya’s room and stared at his daughter sleep. He walked in and sat at her side, her scent had the power to relax him. He deposited a gentle kiss on her head and then headed downstairs collapsing heavily on the sofa. Few of Maya’s books lay abandoned on the coffee table. They had been working on her letters just ahead of her starting school in a few week and she had been practising writing her name almost everywhere. A deep chuckle left him as he stored way a few of the colouring pencils. His girl was growing up fast and for her first day of school he had made sure he had no commitments, that was a milestone he was not going to miss. 

Slowly he placed the books of fairytales away and smiled at the library that he and his dad were building for Maya. A corner where they could all go and read and enjoy tranquil evening near the fireplace. 

Maya was his princess and he would do anything for her, to make sure she was happy. He knew that one day he would have to tell her the truth about her biological mother so for now he was trying to give her as many as happy years as he could. The idea of breaking her heart was painful. How could he tell his daughter that her mother gave her up because she was a mistake that had costed her her career. 

He still remembered the night that Lyria told him she was pregnant. She had been furious at him and he was aware that that was the night in which he had lost her. He had tried to discuss the options but Lyria had refused the idea of termination and Rowan would have accepted anything she decided. He had tried, had gone back to Wendlyn whenever he could and was not away for a game. So when Maya finally arrived and he found himself as the sole guardian he had vowed to be the best father he could be. 

Eventually, Rowan grabbed the remote and switched on the tv and on the sports channel he found an interview with Lorcan. They were at the retreat the team used for summer training. His friend was acting captain until he was back full time. He and Lorcan had been good friends since forever and had climbed the ranks together. Rowan was the first one of the two to join the Hawks and Lorcan followed a year later after an outstanding season in Adarlan. Lorcan was also the man that, after Rolfe had pushed him into the boards, had turned, grabbed the man and punched him hard. He had spent time in the sin bin for roughing but Lorcan had no regrets. 

He listened to his team talk about the plans for the new season and when the reported had suggested that Rowan might not make it back, Fenrys had gone all defensive and Gavriel had to push the young goalie aside. Fen had joined them the previous season after the Hawks had snatched him from the Valg in Wendlyn who were trying to get their hand on one of the most promising goalies. 

In annoyance he switched the channels and lazily watched the tv until he felt like sleep was claiming him again. 

When he woke up he had a weight on his chest. Rowan opened his eyes and smiled at seeing the cause of it. Maya was asleep on top of him, her hands fisted in his t-shirt and her face tucked in the crook of his neck.

He smiled and gently caressed her head. A moment later she shifted and green eyes identical to his turned to him.

“Morning, munchkin.”

“Hi dad.”

“How hungry are you?”

“Pancakes?”

Rowan smiled and sat up, while always having a hold on his daughter “let’s go.”

In the kitchen Rowan went to get the utensils to prepare the meal while Maya walked to the counter and started jumping.

“What do you want?”

“Nutella.”

Rowan passed the jar to his daughter and she padded back to the table, climbing on her chair.

“Dad, will you watch me today?”

“Of course, we can go a bit early and we can play together before your class.”

Maya smiled happily and he pushed aside all of his fears.

*

When they arrived at the rink he took Maya in the Hawks changing rooms and helped her get ready. She sat on the bench and Rowan changed her shoes into the skates “Grampa is teaching me to tie my shoes.” She admitted proudly. 

Rowan smiled “I know and you are very good but ice skates are a bit more difficult.”

“Here we go. Sit here while I change too.” He sat at her side and went through the motions of changing footwear and that’s when he noticed his hands shake.

Fuck.

He took a deep breath and once ready he stood, offering a hand to Maya.

She was wearing a hoodie with the Hawks colours: green and silver and at the back she had number 43, his number. 

“Dad, let’s go.” She screamed as they got at the gate that lay open. Maya was waiting for him on the ice just near the boards “Come dada, I want to skate.”

He let out a long ragged breath and then stepped on the ice.

“Show me dad, show me.”

He closed his eyes and then his feet moved automatically in a way that was second nature. he did a quick loop of the rink and then he stopped in front of Maya spraying ice in her face.

The girl laughed and clapped her hands “dad, you are so cool.”

Rowan smiled and then stooped to grab his daughter’s hands and slowly he dragged her skating backwards, showing her how to move her feet “Good.”

Rowan let her go and Maya glided slowly, a satisfied smile on her face. He followed her from behind, ready to catch her but his daughter was steady on her feet.

“Now try to stop.” Maya tried and managed to come to a halt against his legs “Well done, my love.”

“Not only you steal my rink, now you even take my job?”

A female voice reached him and he froze.

“Miss G!” Maya started to skate to the woman but tripped on the ice and got up quickly again.“Dada, she is Miss G, my teacher.”

Rowan looked up.

“Hi Maya.”

“Hi miss G, dad was teaching me to skate.”

The woman looked at Rowan with curiosity while he ruffled his daughter’s head “so you teach my daughter?”

“Yes, any issues?”

“Dada, she is good too.” Maya’s words were a whisper.

“Hm.” A kiss on her head “be good and listen to her, I will be here to watch you.”

He let Maya go with the woman and he moved to the benches and attentively followed the training. He was smiling at Maya shouting in joy when someone sat at his side. His turned and saw a heavily pregnant Elide smiling at him “hi stranger.”

“Hi fatso! Have they let you loose?”

Elide gently punched his shoulder “I am meeting Aelin after the training, but considering how long it takes me to move, I came a bit earlier.”

Rowan looked at her confused “Who’s Aelin?”

Elide rolled her eyes and pointed at the woman in the rink gathering the kids together “I swear you boys only pay attention to hockey. Any other sport you are oblivious.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look her up: Aelin Galathynius. Then you will stop having that worried face at her looking after your daughter.”

Rowan brushed the bump “little one, your mum is evil.”

“So, how are you? Ready to go back on the ice?”

He stared at the training in the distance and nodded lightly avoiding Elide’s gaze.

“How do you know Aelin?”

“Rowan, I am the PR manager for you guys and I know a lot, plus she is my friend.” A smirk “she is also Aedion’s cousin.”

Rowan turned in shock “She is the mysterious cousin he always talks about?”

“That she is,” explained Elide “Aelin does not like hockey so never come to games and such.”

Rowan stared at the woman with hair like the sun. She was demonstrating something to the kids and the way she moved on the ice screamed pro. 

“Maya seem to have fun.”

“Yes, she loves it and she is a quick study too.”

Elide laughed “I can see her play in the WTHL.”

Rowan sighed. He was going to let her take her own path. As long as she was happy he would be a proud father. 

“Whatever she wants.” He added quietly.

“Lorcan has a onesie customised for our boy with his number on and the Hawks colours.”

A laugh left Rowan’s lips “you really did a number on him,” he added “before you, he loved to use his THL career to sleep his way through the female population of Orynth. I mean he collected puck bunnies right and left and centre. He and Fen had some sort of competition on.”

Elide groaned “I know, but now he knows what happen if he even thinks about a woman in a way that is even remotely sexual.”

“Just don’t break him, please, he is a great D-man.”

Maya’s voice reached him and he watched his daughter skate freely on the ice and then crash against the board to stop herself. A chuckle. They really had to work on stopping.

*

After the training for the beginners had finished, Aelin had retreated to the changing rooms. She had spotted Elide on the seats and Rowan at her side. They seemed close and that should not surprise her. Elide was the PR manager for the Hawks after all. She was the one who refused to hear anything hockey related. Even with Aedion, they had an agreement that he would not talk about the sport in her presence. That probably made her a horrible person since her cousin had tried and attend all of her competitions while she was still actively skating. She just could not understand the hype about hockey, she had watched one game on tv with Aedion after he pushed and she right away she could not care less. She hated as well the obsession over them. The fact that at times she had to go and train at the university ice rink because the hockey team had taken over the premises. And the egos, boosted by the constant adorations from the fans and the never ending line of puck bunnies. Nope, she did not want anything to do with that world.

Once ready, she exited the changing room and found Elide just outside. A sigh of relief at seeing her alone.

“Hi El,” a hug and a caress on her friend’s ever growing bump “hello little one.”

“So, how was training with the kids?”

“I love it so much.”

Elide smiled as they walked towards the car “you have a VIP kid this year.”

Aelin fell silent.

“Oh yeah, the obnoxious captain.”

“Ae, don’t judge him too soon. And don’t take it on Maya.”

Aelin sighed as she sat in the driver’s seat “Never, that kid is a wonderful little thing.” A moment of silence “she definitely skates better than her father.”

Elide sighed deeply “Aelin, look him up and then you might regret your comment. Rowan is an amazing player.”

“Of course you say that, you married one of them.”

Elide groaned “you really are stubborn.”

A chuckle from Aelin “one of my best trait.”

In response Elide shook her head “come on miss G, you promised me an afternoon of shopping and junk food.”

Aelin laughed and turned the engine on and while driving she thought about her friend’s words.

Now all of a sudden she was curious about the captain.

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @elentiyawhitethorn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity  @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn  @susumaus98  @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love  @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127 @mariaofdoranelle

[sc0tters]

Meet Aspen Hughes | Fantilli x Hughes AU!

summary: meet y/n “aspen” hughes

warnings: none

authors note: this is our newest au and is probably the one I’m most excited for! All thoughts will be under the #Fantilli x hughes au! tag and you can find the masterlist here! obviously this is another interactive au so send in those thoughts!

☆ born September 13th, 2003

☆ took a gap year to live in Vancouver with Quinn making her a sophomore at Umich

☆ currently studying sports physiotherapy and is apart of the student medical team for the men’s ice hockey team.

☆ the literal definition of honour role student, so it means that sometimes she’s asked to tutor people that need the help. But Nick was the one who asked her for the help, and because he was cute she agreed.

☆ Luca and Aspen HATE each other if you want to watch a screaming match, catch them in the same room.

☆ just like the seasons change, so does Aspen’s hair colour.

☆ but she really likes the colour she settled on for the moment so she doesn’t think she’ll change it just yet.

☆ for a girl who grew up in a hockey obsessed house Aspen can’t even skate as she was always more found being sat on the bleachers with her book.

☆ she’s Jim’s golden child, there’s a reason she’s the only child who ever got a pet that was more than a goldfish.

☆ handsome the cat does love everyone though (he is a ginger)

☆ Jack wants Aspen to come work for the devils after college but Luke wants her to be as far away as possible in the most loving way.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Did you as a kid or do you now have a favorite national mascot?

I actually had two. In elementary school we had a teach special order us personalized McGruff the crime dog books so he was one and my other was Smokey the Bear. I grew up relatively close to where Smokey the Bear was found and eventually buried.

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer

Hi Lovely!

OH GOSH, hahah well, in the 80s/90s if you were a young Canadian taking French classes in East Coastal-to-Central Canada (areas where I lived and was mandatory in many schools here until high school), you learned about Bonhomme Carnaval, the mascot of Carnaval de Québec. I have distinct memory of doing colouring sheets and trivia about it in elementary school, LOL. And then of course, our national animal, the Beaver LOL. AND THEN of course the cute little mascots we had in the 2010 Olympic Games in Vancouver... I think I actually have or had McDonalds cups with them on them, LOL.

Aside from that though, our mascots are more just... national things that represent Canada, like poutines, beer, hockey, maple leaves, and maple syrup. But yeah we also had McGruff and Smokey because anything that goes on in the US usually happens in Canada, LOL.

But Bonhomme is definitely specific to French Canada, so I guess that's memorable for me LOL.

[sunny-three]

My personal backstory on the wesninski-hatford crime family.

Nathan - I imagine he grew up middle class a fairly normal upbringing a banker father and stay at home he was an only child. He was always good at math/numbers so he goes to university majoring in like accounting or some shit. This was taken from the books I’m p sure Neil mentions it. Anyways Nathan’s always enjoyed fighting like his blood pumping he was actually on the hockey team in high school but kicked off for violence. He meets kengo his first year of university when he got into bar fight and ended up permanently maiming some guys eye with a broken bottle. Anyways all charges against him get dropped bc as turns out the guy that Nathan maimed was one of kengos bodyguards. Kengo introduces himself and offers Nathan some low level work. Nathan agrees and slowly rises though the ranks by doing things for the moriyamas ex. Pushing steroids which actually how Nathan meets Patrick dicmaccio who was on his university’s football team.

Mary - grew as a child in a crime family younges child with some older cousins and one older brother. Her mother died when she was about 14 because of an assination. While Mary’s parents were never really abusive towards her growing up in a crime absolutely impacted her in ways she didn’t realize till she had Neil ex. The paranoid the fear etc. Mary’s parents were never abusive to her but her upbringing was far from normal and damaging to her she never realizes that till Neil’s born. I imagine she saw a lot herself in Neil not just in his personality but in his upbringing as being born in a crime family his isolation as child makes her realizesher own isolation and I think that colours a lot of her dynamic with him. I always assumed that her marriage to Nathan was something that basically arranged/some thing that had to be done which is why she’s so reluctant to trust her family after running away bc they were onboard for the marriage in the first place.

The marriage - I always believed their marriage was a the first attempt at moriyama- hatford alliance it was basically an arranged marriage as kengo didn’t have any kids but Nathan was one of his most trusted subordinates. I think at first the marriage was fine Mary grew up in a crime family she’s been playing this game her whole life and Nathan liked the idea that he was building something of his own the alliance with Hatfords happened bc of him he’s carving out his territory in Baltimore and they’ve stated calling him the butcher. Then Mary gets pregnant and they both think why not? But Neil born everything changes.

Mary doesn’t want Neil in this life at all she’s never realized that how she grew up wasnt normal till Neil was born Nathan doesn’t really like Neil at all he doesn’t pay attention to Neil when he’s a baby and when Neil reaches like toddler age Nathan begins to hate him he liked the idea of having the legend of the butcher of Baltimore continue but practice he finds that he doesn’t really care for the idea of child that squirms during police raids or looks scared when Lola brings him down to the basement etc Mary doesn’t help at all Nathan doesn’t understand why she objects to him taking junior to the basement he never stops Lola from having her fun because junior will need to learn to handle sharp objects at some pint Mary runs away before Lola can properly begin show junior how use the knives . What’s really important to me about Nathan and Mary is that Nathan chose this life and Mary was born into it and while that might sound similar it is vastly different and why they would never really work out.

[thedevilrisen]

Scottlin Livlin Hughes

"Away, you three inch fool!"

A little introduction to Scottlin -

Scottlin Livlin Hughes was the last born to Ellen and Jim Hughes 3 years after their last boy Luke, on April 18th 2006. Ellen was thrilled to get a girl finally and she therefore got a little bit of favoritism from Mum. She followed in her brother's footsteps into the world of hockey.

Scottlin Hughes - Facts!

Scottlin has heterochromia which means she has two different colour eyes, one blue and one brown.

Scottlin is 5'6 weighing 138 pounds and she is gentle as a mouse.

She is commonly known as someone who tries to deescalate situations on ice and is just there to play hockey. She will however drop the gloves if someone threatens or attacks someone on her team.

Scottlin was a very calm baby, and she didn't get up to much trouble when she was younger. Growing up she had her moments but that's about it.

Scottlin has that calming presence that everyone looks to be around, she just knows always knows what's happening and where people need to be.

She was drafted 7th by the Vancouver Canuck's in the 2024 NHL draft, which means she get's to play with her oldest brother Quinn on the top defensive line.

She met Connor Bedard when they both played for the Regina Pats in the WHL.

She play's the electric guitar and loves reading, she often drags her brothers to the library to find more books.

Scottlin has a really close relationship with Luke because of their ages and she often goes to him with everything.

Scottlin is prone to nightmares which means she often snuggles into one of her brothers beds, she has done this since she was very young.

Scottlin does gig's with friends at local bars and at family events!

-

There is a little bit about Scottlin, I hope you all love her as much as I am beginning too. Please feel free to come by and talk with me about her!

[miadarkarcher]

New video up!!

[obsob]

once more around the sun!! :3

[puckpocketed]

Tag game <3 @neonfretra thanking and cursing you for this tag my mind is poisomde… <3

Rules: post your first ever hockey art, your latest hockey art, and your favourite hockey art, then tag three hockey artists

NEONFRETRA you and oensible are 2 of my go-to tag targets for this exact game I’m shaking my fin and cryign…. Anyway . With 0 pressure or expectations . Here are my tags!! mwah <3

@18minutemajor - we don’t interact except when I scream in the reblogs of your posts and that one time but you inspire me to paint all the time every day <3

@kmercer - my comrade my sharpie lid my woolly jumper <3 hello…!

@chownkie - hello… please show us your hokcey art…… I think I saw some from you once but I can’t remember if it was a fever dream…. If it was and u ain’t ever make hockey art then please show us some stuff u like pleag……

if ur an artist and see this . Consider yourself tagged. Photography and other crafts count (TO ME!)

First ever hockey art is technically THIS piece . it’s tangentially hockey related because I got the phrase “enemy of silence” that one time a broadcast fired those exact words at TZ (current favourite annoying girl of all time). My friend Harry was describing his journey to try and pick up books and how the cashier wouldn’t shut up and Harry has MAD stimulation issues when people talk too much at him so he hit da bricks only to have to do it all over again because he’s . Got a store membership and it’s a sunk cost situation which has turned into a horrible timeloop . I drew a representation of it <3

Latest hockey art… well. hockey has actually brought me back to taking my craft a little more seriously + practicing it with so much more joy. every artist on here is so interesting and cool and inspiring waaaaaaaaa <3 So I’ve finally dedicated time to doing a nicely rendered and coloured piece,,, here is a bit of it ! I flirted with the idea of doing it in black and white but then I started having too much fun colour picking and getting my reps in . I hadn’t properly touched my tablet for painting in about a year prior to starting back up about . 3 months ago? and coming back to form has been a journey! But I feel myself improving every day and settling back into my old rhythms/styles. life is so sparklingsweet (<- all one word because that’s the only thing that feels right) I’ve said this before on other platforms but. No matter what is happening in your life, no matter where you are, if you are an artist and you haven’t made anything in a while…Hold on. You will make art again.

Favourite hockey art.. probably my recent pfp! I did the line art for this one in a daze while recovering from an illness ksjcjskjsdk anyway it’s my favourite because a friend/moot messaged me and called it my “time skip” pfp and I just about died laughing. we ARE about to bring Sasuke back to the village….. on god….

1. This is me and my mullet. 2. I wear yellow/orange tinted lenses and have done so for. the past 6-7 years? 8? I’m not counting. Why? they look cool that’s why (also they help with eye strain but I chose the colour because they look cool) 3. Those are real earrings that I do own and they are that big . Gender isn’t just fake it’s a cop inside your head and you need to kill it with prejudice . 4. This will be inaccurate as of. 4 months from now when I get a moon tattoo on my neck <3 I love moons so bad <3

[cordelia---rose]

15 questions for 15 friends

i was tagged by the wonderful @johaerys-writes, thank you so much!

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?: nope! my mother found a book of rare names, wrote down a whole bunch, and my father only liked one of them. fun fact, only three people in the entire world have the same first name as me ⭐

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?: oh man in terms of like any tears at all…like this morning because my PMDD is hitting me hard at the moment and i saw my dog being cute and it was all too much for me but in terms of a big, proper cry…probably a couple of weeks?

DO YOU HAVE KIDS?: i am actively filled with repulsion and dread at the thought of having children so it’s a good thing i don’t

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?: i used to play hockey, netball, tennis and rounders at school and then whatever they made us do in PE but i’m not a huge sports person, especially not teams ones!

DO YOU USE SARCASM?: too much. i realised in my teens that if i’m deliberately deadpan and sarcastic all the time, people just think it’s funny and don’t look at me weirdly when i’m having an especially autistic day and can’t mask well because it just blends into my usual demeanour. everyone at work thinks i’m very dry and sarcastic when actually it’s mostly just me failing to understand social cues.

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?: gosh honestly i really don’t know. although i do pay a lot of attention to people’s smiles, i think you can learn a lot about a person by how they smile. whether it’s forced or natural, if their eyes smile too, if they hold their happiness back or let it come out unrestrained, etc., so i’ll go for smiles!

WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOUR?: boring boring blue

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?: can we not have both? i’ll always have to pick scary movies though because horror is my favourite genre, but i love a final girl ending!

ANY TALENTS?: ooh this is tough because for me a talent is something you’re just naturally good at, but the things that other people would probably say i have a natural talent for are my hobbies which i’ve worked at for a long time so i wouldn’t be able to say if it’s an innate talent or just a skill i’ve honed. i think i’ll probably say playing the double bass (or upright bass in the USA) - i tried it out at a musical open day thing at my school and decided i liked it, and then twelve weeks later i sat a music exam for it and passed with top marks despite it usually taking several years to get to that point!

WHERE WERE YOU BORN?: england. i was doomed from the start.

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?: my main ones would be writing, reading, gaming, obsessively researching and then yapping about my special interests, and baking! i also do some crafty stuff when the mood strikes (i’m not really very good at it, but that’s chill, because it’s just for fun) and i’m not sure if it counts as a hobby but i love going on the trampoline!

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?: i have my dog who is simultaneously the reason i get up in the mornings and the reason i don’t want to get up in the mornings, and also a crested gecko who mostly just vibes doing her own thing.

HOW TALL ARE YOU?: 5’7”/1.70m

FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?: this changed so drastically over the years! when i was younger it tended towards history, then when i started secondary school i still loved history but classics became my main area of interest, but after i decided i didn’t want to pursue a career in that field i cast about a little bit and realised that while i hated, like, plant biology and chemical reactions, i was really into specific aspects of science and that’s what i’m studying at uni now!

DREAM JOB?: forensic anthropologist, i’m undertaking my master’s in this and i really hope i get to have a career in this one day, it’s my life’s ambition.

Tagging (i barely talk to anyone on here lmao so it's definitely going to be fewer than 15! also there's with no pressure): @stressedanime @royalthorned @a-good-sandwich @toy-soldiering @claudiadiary

[qoqurt]

✶ ⋆ .˚ ⊹₊⋆ ONE FOR THE BOOKS .ᐟ

daisy and park sunghoon’s friendship history .ᐟ

about daisy | au masterlist

♡゛BASICS .ᐟ

how did they meet? daisy and sunghoon met when they were both incredibly young, as they grew up in the same neighbourhood. he and david were on the same hockey team, having been introduced to daisy right after.

their first impressions of each other?

daisy and sunghoon were quick to form a bond, having been only 6 and 7 respectively when they met. for daisy, she saw sunghoon as her brother’s cool friend – immediately wanting to befriend him as well. it was easy for them to get along, especially when they only knew each other during their skating lessons.

similarly, sunghoon was quick to warm up to daisy, through david – seeing as he was the one to introduce the two. they bonded quickly over their love for figure skating, and it was sunghoon who encouraged daisy to pursue it competitively.

favorite memory they have of each other? sunghoon and daisy’s fondest memories of each other date back to when they were around 12 and 13, when their families took a trip together to jeju.

♡゛DETAILS .ᐟ

songs that represent them:

star 1117 – ateez

love lee – akmu

never grow up – taylor swift

love. — wave to earth

seasons — wave to earth

phonecert – 10cm

contact names:

sunghoon’s (for daisy): heeda 🐟

daisy’s (for sunghoon): hoonsung 🐧

contact photos:

( from left to right: sunghoon on daisy’s phone, daisy on sunghoon’s phone )

tropes and dynamics: grump x sunshine, small x tall, twin flames, sun and moon, childhood friends, opposites attract

nicknames:

sunghoon’s: hoonie, hoon, grumpy, hoonsung, sungie

daisy’s: hee-ah, heehee, dolhee, heeda, parasite

love languages:

sunghoon’s: words of affirmation, acts of service, physical touch

daisy’s: quality time, gift giving, physical touch

favorite things to do together? jam sessions (singing together), skating, dancing, walking their dogs together, playing video games, working out together, going out for food, late night walks

♡゛FUN FACTS .ᐟ

sunghoon is daisy’s oldest friend, right before stella and drea — who are two of her closest friends.

though they’re both rather introverted, daisy’s the more outgoing one between the two of them.

daisy often visits sunghoon when they both have free time during the summer, during her trips to korea.

sunghoon has once guest starred on her radio show, where they did a cover of dream by baekhyun and suzy.

daisy calls sunghoon as often as she can, despite the time zone differences and their hectic schedules.

despite having known sunghoon for so long, she doesn’t actually know the rest of his group mates all too well. sunghoon’s a bit of a gatekeeper. she ends up meeting them when she reaches out to them to surprise sunghoon for his birthday.

daisy and sunghoon will often walk their dogs together — claiming gaeul and dubu are siblings — despite their dogs only sharing similarities in colour and appearance.

their parents often joked about setting them up.

in their trio with stella ( @wintfleur ‘s oc ) , they’re often referred to as mom and dad — and are often called out for “bickering like an old married couple.”

though daisy can often be guarded when it comes to feeling stressed and burnt out, she finds she can easily rely on sunghoon, and vice versa.

daisy and sunghoon are incredibly in tune with one another — especially from having known each other for years. they remember the littlest details about one another, and are both incredibly sentimental.

sunghoon was daisy’s first kiss, happening when they were around 14-15. they went on one date after it — but haven’t spoken about it since it happened.

 ♡゛THEIR THINGS .ᐟ

calling each other by their full names to get each other’s attention

owning all of sunghoon’s hand me downs

falling asleep on each other in the back of the car

sharing one singular long scarf

daisy stuffing her hands into sunghoon’s pockets when she forgets gloves

giving each other oddly specific compliments

radiating off of each other’s energy – always matching each other 

deep cleaning together

note from mei ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 1/3 friendship posts done !!! i’m not 100% sure what to tag this as mostly because it’s an nhl au at the end of the day (despite the addition of enhypen to my silly little au), but i hope you guys like it regardless!

pookie tags: @iceflwers @wintfleur @lovings4turn

( feel free to ask to be tagged ! )

[itsaash]

Hamptons Cubs continued....

We've got history together

The prompts from @noots-fic-fests have been invaluable in actually getting this AU written, with the character credit of course to @lumosinlove

Remember when personal chef Leo was invited by sweetheart Finn to bring his boyfriend up for the week to his house in the Hamptons? But then I left you on a cliffhanger on how Finn and Logan knew each other?? like 3 months ago?? Here's their backstory! (about 2000 words, rated T)

Read on ao3

Finn, for some unknowable reason, was taking History 1039: First Empires: Power and Propaganda in the Ancient World, and was actually looking forward to it each week. It was a smile in a crowd, a time slot highlighted deep green (which was the colour for good things, peaceful things), a moment to look forward to amid his absolutely manic final semester. And well, if he was being honest with himself, it was the time he saw Tremblay. Logan Tremblay. At a heavy wooden table, absolutely surrounded by reference books, he had learned Logan had played hockey as a kid, as Finn had too, and they’d traded hockey nicknames, seldom used now, and Tremzy had been a fixture in his colour-coded, highly precise day planner. Because if it wasn’t in the planner, it didn’t happen, and he needed those study sessions to happen.

Finn had known since freshman year that he needed another history class and had been putting it off, so here he was in his final semester, finally taking one. And the flutter in his heart whenever he sat down by Logan during the lectures made him appreciate his top notch procrastination skills.

The problem, one of the problems, is that history textbooks aren’t actually well written. Finn would find himself writing ‘we need to pick a theme here and stick to it’ in the margins. His book was marked up to the nines, comma splices fixed, bright orange highlighter over unnecessary details that only clog up the plot, and plenty of sky blue ballpoint pen notes of ‘where are we going with this?’.

But in this class he was expected to remember all those orange details? And had to write essays about the confusing dates and names and meandering themes? He should’ve picked a history class that covered a decade, tops. Any decade would do. This class was so broad it made his head spin. But, another class wouldn’t have had Tremzy in it, so.

So, their highly exclusive study group of two took up a permanent Wednesday evening slot of deep green in the planner. Logan could remember the dates and details and helped Finn with mnemonics so he could remember them too. They made up back-story and funny details to help Finn’s brain tie together a rambling plot. And Finn would read the textbook aloud to Logan on the days where he was too tired to read the English words and the scenes of ancient history would dance in the air between them as they helped each other learn.

The old fashioned study room had huge white candles in sconces around the room and the candles dripped their wax down the sides, within the glass containers. Finn stared at the patterns the wax made on the outside of the candle, tried to read them like tea leaves. Tried to remember dates and names and if that shade of green had always been the one associated with good things? The light from the candles sparkled off the glass holders and Finn knew that green would always mean good, now.

They were just weeks away from the end of the semester now, final essays in the final editing phase (the part Finn was actually good at. Logan may have learned quickly to send Finn his absolute earliest drafts, just to enjoy the sight of him opening his case of markers and highlighters with a flourish and smile). The sun was staying out later now, still shining as their evening study sessions went on into the night. They found themselves invited to a party at the hockey house after going to watch a Crimson game together. They had traded stories of their successes in junior hockey, and an injured player watching from the stands had joined their conversation and invited them to a party.

“Bruh, it’s gonna be summer vibes. We’re bringing on summer early. Wear florals or some shit. The chicks dig florals.”

Finn laughed, “I can probably manage that.”

“Make your outfit as colourful as your papers, Harzy,” Logan had teased. The player, Wags, upon hearing of Finn’s editing skills had desperately begged Finn to do just a quick edit of his last English paper. Finn agreed, laughing.

“Harzy, you’re a beaut! Fuckin comin through like a champ. Ok I gotta go join the boys for intermission pep talk but come by the house Saturday! Drinks all night for you two!” He pointed his crutch back at Finn and Logan as he walked away, “fuckin florals!”

Logan laughed and bumped Finn’s shoulder, “Yeah, Harzy, you beaut.”

Finn bumped Logan back. “Shut up. Roping me into editing in exchange for drinks. And you’re the one with flow,” he said, hitting the back of his hand into the bottom of Logan’s dark curls, which did flow just past his ears.

“Come on, as if your hair isn’t the nicest in any room,” Logan scoffed. He brushed his hand past Finn’s temple as if he was dismissing Finn’s thick red hair, but the touch lingered a bit longer than a dismissal would, and Finn drew his hand back as he felt the air thicken. Their eyes locked together for a long moment. Finn swallowed.

“I should head home,” Logan said, standing up, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “Essay to finish. Colour coded editing to decipher.”

Finn laughed, tried to make it sound natural and not high and tight.

“Yeah, ok. If we stay here any longer we’ll start calling each other bruh.”

“Yeah, put a red line right through that shit, Harz,” Logan laughed. And the air settled back to normal around them, for now.

But they did call each other bruh the rest of the week.

~~~

The party was fun. Wags came through with the drinks and introduced Finn in every room as “a total lifesaver, bruh.”

They’d danced, and played beer pong (Logan was unfairly coordinated, even amidst a house full of athletes), and debated music and majors with the other students.

But by midnight Finn and Logan were happy to leave the hockey players to their ever stranger games, and Finn walked with Logan back to his dorm. They collapsed into one of the couches in the sitting room off the main entry, it seemed no one was partying here tonight.

“Have fun, Tremzy?” Finn asked through a yawn. Logan tipped his head back against the couch and was quiet for a long moment. “Yeah, it was fun. Do you miss it? Hockey? And the built-in friends?” Finn also tilted his head back, and turned his head towards Logan. He waved a hand in the air. “Yes, and no. The sport itself, I loved, would totally play some more. And I made some awesome friends. But the locker room culture overall isn’t quite where I wish it was? It made it hard, in the end, and I just stopped having fun.”

“Ouias, même chose. And I just wanted to focus on other things.”

They sat for a long minute beside each other, heads resting back and looking at each other. Something switched in the air, like one of the sconce candles had been lit, all of a sudden, on. And Finn leaned over and was kissing Logan before he even knew he was going to.

Logan was still for just a moment before he threaded his hand into Finn’s hair and pulled him closer. Finn held Logan’s jaw in both his hands, unbearably gently, and they settled into each other, the press and movement of lips against lips, jaw, ear, neck.

“I’m not gay,” Logan murmured against his mouth, after some minutes, and Finn backed away slightly.

“That’s ok, that’s fine,” Finn said. He kept his hand cupping Logan’s jaw, never wanted to touch anything else after this sacred skin against his fingertips. “I think I’m bi, but lately there have been more guys in my mind, so who knows.” Not guys, the inner editor in his mind corrected. Guy. Singular. Be specific with your words. It’s green eyes and broad shoulders that have been building a home in your mind. But Finn couldn’t make his mouth say these truths, not with Logan’s eyes looking that stormy and wild and worried.

He leaned in again, 80% of the way, ok maybe 95%, but then waited to see if Logan wanted more. Finn melted and felt like he might float away when Tremz leaned in to press their lips together again. It was soft and tentative but Logan’s grip against his bicep with one hand and side with the other transferred plenty of desire and care. Finn thought he might keep his hand on Logan’s jaw until his hand cramped, it felt so good and right there, the slight stubble soft enough to feel like the best texture toy in existence.

Their lips pressed together like a dance. For a while soft and sweet, just Logan’s fingertips on Finn’s biceps and Finn’s fingers in their new home. Then it turned hotter, deeper. They gripped tighter and moved skating fingers across each other’s chests and hips.

Finn slung a leg over both of Logan’s, still sitting beside him, not on him, but now turned fully towards each other so they could press their chests together in a gasp.

“I thought you liked girls,” Logan said, very unfortunately using his mouth to talk instead of kiss. “You talked about Hannah a lot back at the start of the semester.”

“I do like Hannah. I like a lot of people,” Finn said into the hinge of Logan’s jaw. I like you, his brain amended.

“Have there been, you said you’ve been thinking of boys? Have there been guys in your bed too?” Logan said slowly, accent heavy around the words, the sentence stumbling as his fingers traced up and down Finn’s side. Finn’s heart galloped ahead before he could answer. He pulled back slightly, feeling that Logan really wanted an answer.

“Well, no, not lately. I mean, I have … well I’ve had a lot of people in my bed honestly. But lately, no, no guys in my bed for ... quite some time.” At least two months, Finn thought. A bit more? Which in retrospect was not the norm for him, but he honestly hadn’t noticed the lack these past weeks. “Why? Are there guys in your bed? You haven’t told me about anyone you’ve hooked up with.”

Logan just shook his head, fingers gripping into Finn’s hips, but he didn’t lean in again. “No, there hasn’t been, I mean I’ve done stuff with girls, but I haven’t, merde,” Logan looked up at the ceiling before levelling his gaze at Finn. “Finn, you’re the first guy I’ve kissed.” Finn raised his eyebrows. “I honestly don’t know what, don’t know who I like,” he stuttered.

Finn traced his fingertips over Logan’s cheeks. “Do you like this?” He trailed his fingers down Logan’s neck. Logan nodded. “And this?” Finn leaned in to place a soft kiss just below Logan’s ear.

“Absolutely.” Logan tilted his neck to give Finn more access.

“Ok, well then, Tremzy, do you want to keep kissing me? You don’t have to. It’s so fine if you want to stop.”

Logan just leaned in and captured Finn’s mouth again and Finn let himself be kissed within an inch of his life.

Some time later they slowed, and stopped. They peppered small kisses across each other’s faces for a long time before actually stopping. Finn walked Logan up to his room holding hands. They kissed one more time at Logan’s door. Finn felt like the house around them may as well not be there, like he may as well be floating with Logan, under the stars, for as much as he took notice of anything other than the soft lips, the scruff of hair, the hard muscles under his hands. It felt a little bit like magic.

In the scheme of things, their history together included dozens of evenings together with books strewn about the heavy wood table, a difficult course that had been successfully navigated by the help of each other, moments of care and kindness and friendship. But that was one class, a handful of months, one kiss. Years ago.

They had continued to study after that night, proof-reading each other's essays. There had been more casual touching, a hand on a knee or a stroke across a back as they walked by, but they hadn’t kissed again. Finn thought maybe they would at the end of the semester. But then the semester ended in a whirlwind of exams and papers and best wishes from so many people and Finn had been travelling into the city to find an apartment on the weekends and doing job interviews at magazines and publishing houses. They just … hadn’t. And then he’d dropped his whole fucking bag onto the tracks that day in New York and he’d decided to switch to an android phone, and the kiss, and Tremzy, were a fond but distant memory.

Except, now here he was. Right in-fucking-front of him. At his house. For the next 10 days. With Leo. Leo was his boyfriend.

What the actual fuck.