#hot skate shoes

[fi-sneakerboy]

[caprisun-and-novocaine]

i am such a fan of that particular point in history around 2006-2010 when scene and emo kids were common friend groups in school, metal fences were jungle gyms with candy wrappers hanging off of them, everyone wore an ‘i heart boobies’ bracelet and dressed like the tshirt wall in a hot topic in 2010 i really hope people know what i mean. it is my favorite i literally kin it

[icewindandboringhorror]

I got these shoes from someone recently but thought they were way too plain looking, so I set out on a quest to customize them with some sharpies and charms and miscellaneous ribbon I had in my craft drawers. Mostly sky themed (clouds, rainbows, rain, stars, etc.) because that's my favorite aesthetic, but I had to include some cat imagery as well, of course lol.

[albertayebisackey]

"When in doubt, skate it out." - Unknown

[cuartoretorno]

Scooby-Doo 1969 - 2019

Que fue Scooby? Un Ollie con su respectivo Santa Cruz! y sus Tracks Baker! que Proceda  Shaggy! Scoooobyyyyy, coooobyyyyy dooooooooo!!!

[keeps-ache]

reactions concerning auto-correct are either 'oh so sorry i didn't realize i spelled 'haphazard' wrong again, thank you :)' or 'i meant to spell 'waouh' take your little red squiggly lines and shove it'

[kingfakey]

listening to the barbie soundtrack... take a shot every time they mention boxes and wind up in the hospital

[lokisgoodgirl]

Five Times [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: An evening of psychological foreplay comes to a head. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Loki x Female Reader. Smut. Established relationship. Possessive/Soft Dom Loki. Non-toxic jealousy. Language. (w/c 1.6k)

“You look so ravishing, I can barely stand to ruin you-” Loki growls unconvincingly as he backs you against the bedpost.

The sweet tang of jealousy seeps from him, clinging to his skin and hair and wicked smile the way the black suit clings to his muscles.

“-But I will,” he promises darkly. It times perfectly to the press of his forearm against the wood above your head.

Before you can muster a response, his face is buried in your neck. Biting, pulling.

His angular jaw presses feverishly against your collarbone, licking and groaning against the skin. This is one of the ways, he has. One of the ways to be his. The deeper part of him that wants to feel he might lose you. It awakens the deepest part that knows he never could.

The sharp of his teeth graze against your pulse-point, and for a second, just a second, you think he might sink in with invisible fangs. Suck you dry, like the vampire you always suspected he might be. And what’s more, tonight you’d let him.

Five times, he'd tried to whisk you away at tonight’s event to take care of dark business in dark corners. And five times, you turned him down. Just as he had asked.

And each time, as instructed, you found one of the others to dance with. Steve, Bruce, Sam, Bucky, Scott. Winding your arms around their necks, running your hands down their chests. Five men, five dances. Pawns in you and your lover's elaborate foreplay. And each time, Loki’s cock had grown harder; concealed only by magic. Just.

His towering body is pressed flushed to yours. Every inch of your god from his dress shoes to the thick muscles straining against the collar of his shirt is in contact with your heated flesh. His stomach melds against your chest, the rise and fall of shallow breaths making you dizzy.

Loki’s hair falls like a veil, shielding you from a reality where anything exists but him. As if you could ever need anything else.

Hot breath and the settled musk of his cologne floods your nostrils in ragged, heavy pants. Possession soaks the hungry pull of his mouth over yours. The god’s lips are wet, a mix of his frantic kisses and the saliva welling in his mouth at the scent of you. The feel of you. The loss of you, if only for a moment.

No. Five moments. Frantically wandering hands find their way up your back, fingers digging beneath the tight back of your sultry gown. This dress cost a month’s salary, and he’s about to tear it right- -riiiiip Ruined fabric skates over your hips, fluttering to rest by your ankles. “Apologies,” he mutters unapologetically.

The god’s hands run up your waist, palming your breasts upwards. He stares at them, mouth hanging open. There’s a noise in his throat that’s an inhuman frequency. That could wake the dead and call them to his will. “Loki,” you whine needily, batting your lashes as his darkened eyes rise to meet your own. There is little of your sentimental lover in those eyes tonight. Tonight, he wants to fuck.

He growls again. It grows louder behind the clench of his teeth as his hands fly to his belt, undoing the buckle with uncharacteristic sloppiness. You begin to yank at his tie, loosening his collar and pulling it free. Loki smiles. It’s a cruel, close-lipped smile he saves for very special occasions these days. But his eyes sparkle.

In a flash, you are airborne. Loki has tossed you over the thick wooden end of the bedstead, and you land with a bounce on the mattress.

He chuckles darkly, pacing with aching slowness around the side. Long fingers toy with the porcelain buttons of his shirt. He un-pops one. And then two.

You shiver, the tension building in your body making you shake. “Lokiiii,” you whine again.

He looks through half-lidded eyes, the outline of his thick cock protruding against black suit trousers that are just a touch too tight. As always. You extend one leg, tracing his hard-on with your toes. The god tilts his head, releasing an impatient sigh. “Do not toy with me, woman” he breathes, sucking in air as you push your foot hard against the solid mass. “You’re toying with me, Laufeyson” you coo. It lights a fire behind his eyes. His chin lowers, dark tendrils falling sluttishly over the blades of his cheekbones. “Present yourself, then” he utters, laden with ceremony.

Holding eye-contact for as long as you can, you arrange yourself as instructed. On all fours. Loki groans behind you as you push your ass up, the inevitable slide of his palms over the round, soft flesh making you tremble. He squeezes firmly, and you feel his breath on your skin just for a moment, before his tongue traces the base of your spine. “My woman,” he murmurs against the curve. You hear the hum of a zipper, the gentle clink of metal as he brushes the buckle from its path. A moan of his name ruts from your throat, and the air in front of you shimmers. An ornate mirror melts into existence. It reveals your spread thighs, your breasts heaving and face inches from the mattress as you await Loki's reckoning.

He looms behind you, pushing his hair back with a rake of his fingers. It piles to one side, errant strands hanging and jutting from wild angles.

His shirt hangs open, exposing a sliver of taut milky skin. The bottom is untucked at the front, the back still holding its shape despite the splayed zipper exposing a flash of densely muscled hips.

In his hand he pumps his cock slowly. A bead of pre-cum glistens at the tip. He looks fucking devastating. And in the mirror, his eyes are fixed on yours.

“Say it, darling kvinne.” he orders quietly. “Fuck me, Loki...” you manage breathlessly. Wetness slips between your legs, and you realise with a shameful thrill that you’re humping air. “Fuck you?” he goads. He tuts. The god bites his lip, releasing it slowly with a slurping groan, pleasuring himself leisurely to the image of your desperation. “Not make love to you?” One brow cocks, awaiting your response. Your forehead dips to the mattress, sobbing in frustration as you gather silken bedsheets in your fists. The cool of his belt buckle presses to your ass, fingers curling around the base of your neck. He urges your face gently upwards, meeting your own eyes in the mirror. “Very well." he purrs. "Then fuck...we shall.” The fat head of Loki’s cock nudges against your sopping entrance, squelching. His ragged moan rips air as he squeezes inside, a thick vein which runs from the root of his manhood up the shaft dragging against your plump walls. “F-fuck. ” he curses as you cling on for dear life.

The joy of him filling you is instant, an utter satisfaction the like of which you’ve never known. Loki seats himself to the hilt, the dual sensation of his pubic hair and the leather belt slung around his hips making you clench.

“I warn you,” he gasps on the exhale, “I am unlikely to last. Not after tonight.” All you can managed is garbled praises as he begins to thrust.

Again and again, he bottoms out. His cock pulls against the lip of your pussy, nudging against the sticky entrance before sheathing tight once more. The gratuitously filthy words dripping from his tongue made even filthier by the rich velvet of his voice.

You can’t take your eyes off him in the mirror, chin tipped to the ceiling as he loses himself in your heavenly cunt. Loki’s fingertips dig into your hips, trembling with the effort of containing his strength.

He delves deeper, disgustingly sensual moans and whines escaping his throat as your arousal slips and slides against his cock. His thrusts are sloppy, desperate. The hard mass of his thighs slaps against the back of your own as he bucks, gyrates, consumes you from the centre of his masculinity.

He’s transfixed, staring down as he watches his slippery, throbbing member disappear inside you again and again. A delicate dangle of drool lands on the base of your spine. Loki is so close already. He won't last, he said. And he meant it. Strands of hair stick against his forehead, buffeting against the pants from his lips as he takes you over the side of his bed.

You grip the bedsheets tighter, losing yourself in his lust. The vein in his neck throbs, pulsing with the need to empty himself inside you. “No one,” he gasps as his hips shake at your back end. “No one, f-ucks you-” He lets out a strangled moan, moist cotton-clad stomach moulding to your back, “no-one fucks you but me. ” “N-no-one,” you cry, voice shaking as climax begins to rattle through your core. “Loki...oh, f-fuck, Loki yes..uhh-god, f-fuckk-” You look up, just as his eyes close to the world and his face flushes pink. The god’s neck is straining, the clench of his jaw and the bulge of his throat pushing you over the edge. He straightens, fingertips digging into your hips as climax thunders through him.

Loki’s jaw hangs, brows peaked as you feel the force of his load explode deep inside your cunt. A roar of your name fills the air. Erratic thrusts continue in the mess, milking himself inside your ripe heat that blossoms only for him. “Only for me...” he rumbles breathlessly as your eyes meet in the mirror.

His stomach curls against your back again, one hand sliding up the curve of your breasts, fingers curling around your jaw. A digit slips into your mouth. You suck.

“Only for you.” you echo, muffled against the finger resting on your tongue. And behind you, Loki smiles.

"One down, four to go." he whispers.

Tags (contd in comments) @wavyhairedvixen @lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @buttercupcookies-blog

[fi-sneakerboy]

[wonbie]

tease . 엔하이픈 . how enha teases you

warnings ¿ teasing obviously, kissing, not proofread genre ¿ fluff © wonbie

lee heeseung

he'll randomly start complimenting this girl on his phone like 'ohmygod she's so pretty. i've never seen a girl this pretty before. marry me. she's so hot. ah im in love.' you glared at him as jealousy bubbles in you. hee loves seeing you get all sulky and jealous but once he's finished teasing you he'll show you what he's looking at. a picture of you, sleeping.

park jongseong

first time cooking dinner wow amazing!! since jay knows how to cook he's your judge. did you do good? what do you need to work on? i feel like jay would make faces just to scare you. he'd try to hold in his laughter when you get all panicky but in the end he compliments your cooking. it was actually really good.

sim jaeyun

KISSES. man loves ur lips and he loves u. what perfect way to tease you than kissing you. you walk into the house and the first thing he does is kiss. ur walking out of the kitchen, kiss. coming out of the restroom, kiss. sitting on the couch, kiss. and so on.

park sunghoon

i think he'd tease you on dates. so ur going on an ice skating date per usual. he brags about how he's such a good skater and how he's gonna beat you at racing. then when you get out on the ice he starts getting to close causing you to fall. he catches you like those romantic parts in movies and winks at you.

kim sunoo

steals ur food. and im talking all the time!!! you'll be eating and out of nowhere comes a hand stealing ur food. he says if u love him you'll share ur food. sunoo would steal ur snacks drinks dinner everything but he repays it all back with a date at a fancy retaurant where he doesn't steal ur food.

yang jungwon

doesnt let you kiss him. you'll lean in and he'll turn away. he loves ur kisses but sometimes he likes seeing your upset pout as he turns away. you lean in a couple more times but as always he turns away. when he sees ur pout he pecks ur lips and smile mumbling a tiny sorry and chuckling.

nishimura riki

riki would definitely hide things from you. looking for your charger? go look in the pantry. oh no, you cant find your shoe!! look inside the laundry hamper!! he finds it funny to see you looking all around the house.

paris' note . i want a jungwon. somone find me a jungwon

perm tl @jakeyzzz @luvistqrzzz @minholing send ask or comment if you want to be added!!

[sunflower-lilac42]

✧ 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐫𝐤 || luke hughes♔

album & song: 1989 ; welcome to new york (taylor's version)

summary: y/n comes to visit her boyfriend and they venture around new york when she surprises him with some news

pairings: luke hughes x reader ; jack hughes x platonic!reader (minor)

warnings: airplanes/airport (very minor), crowded spaces, fluffy

notes: hey guys, I'm back! this was really fun to write but I did end up cutting out the second verse because I didn't really know what to write for that part. anyways, I loved how this turned out and i'm so excited to share it with you so I hope you guys enjoy it as well. let me know what I should write next for this series however I think I'm either gonna write a fic that doesn't pertain to any event or celebration or one for my 150 celly next. hope you guys had a good holiday and I will see you all in the next one! by the way, you guys can pick where you are oging to school but to make it easy I just picked somewhere (that being Hofstra becuase they really want me so I picked them in spirit). add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

1989 masterlist | nhl x ts masterlist | nhl masterlist | main masterlist

'Welcome to New York, it's been waitin' for you Welcome to New York, welcome to New York Welcome to New York, it's been waitin' for you Welcome to New York, welcome to New York'

It had been a month since the two had last seen each other. They had been lucky enough that their schedules overlapped this year. For Thanksgiving break, Luke had a game the day it started in Detriot so she drove there to see him, spending some of Thursday with him before he had to head back to Jersey. For Winter Break, the day after exams ended Luke had a game in Columbus so once again she drove down to see him before leaving for Jersey with him to spend her break with as they had a homestand till Christmas (and maybe for a while after…)

Luke wrapped an arm around y/n, sitting on an airplane because they knew they wouldn’t hear the end of it if Luke went with the team. He leaned over and kissed her head, “Welcome to New York, babe.”

Y/n looked over at him and smiled, “I can’t tell if you’re trying to make a Taylor Swift reference and are mocking me,” she showed him her phone which had ‘Welcome to New York’ showing that it was playing on it. “Or if you’re being serious and are just saying it.”

Luke shrugged, “Maybe both?”

She laughed and hit him playfully, snuggling into his side as they landed. 

✧༺✎༻∞

'Walkin' through a crowd, the village is aglow Kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats under coats Everybody here wanted somethin' more Searchin' for a sound we hadn't heard before'

Y/n had begged her boyfriend to go walking in the city across the river to look at their Christmas lights. It didn’t take long for him to say yes as he was pulling on his shoes grabbing the keys from the table and yelling goodbye to Jack who still sat curled up in his room. 

The two walked hand in hand as they strolled through Rockefeller Center, looking at the tree, “We should’ve brought skates.”

Luke gave her a look, “I play professional hockey for a living, you think I don’t carry skates in my car?”

“Lukey, I was joking. You skate for a living, don’t you ever want a break.” She pulled him past the rink, heading towards a hot chocolate stand, rubbing her hands together. 

He grabbed her hands and held them between his own, “No.”

She rolled her eyes and Luke let go of her hands for a brief moment to pay for the hot chocolate before placing one back in hers. They continued to walk around the city, y/n pointing out things in amazement and Luke watching her with a dazed look on his face. 

“Look, that one kind of looks like you’re looking through a kaleidoscope.” He didn’t respond as he had spaced out looking at her smile, “Luke. Hey!”

“What?” He snapped out of it and looked down at her, his eyes readjusting and focusing on her eyes, “I’ve been talking to you for the past two minutes and you have not said a word.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay, are you okay?”

He nodded but she knew that wasn’t the case, something was bothering him, “Seriously, Luke. What’s wrong?”

“Do you ever,” He paused before restarting, “Do you ever wish we could be together?”

“What do you mean? We are together.”

“I meant like all the time. Like you were there when I came home from roadies, or you were at all of the home games when you could be. Or you were there when I woke up every morning.” Luke sounded sad as he spoke.

“Of course, I do, Luke. And you know that.” She wanted to say what she wanted but it wasn’t the right time, “Just give it a little bit and everything will work out, okay? I promise.”

He nodded but still had an unsure look on his face. She reached up and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck and he retaliated with his arms around her torso. To keep his spirits high, she allowed them to head to the rink and rent some skates, which they could’ve spent hours on but only stayed for an hour before heading to get something to eat, picking up something for Jack for when they got home. 

✧༺✎༻∞

'Like any great love, it keeps you guessing Like any real love, it's ever-changing Like any true love, it drives you crazy But you know you wouldn't change anything, anything, anything'

It was the eighth of January and y/n knew that Luke would start getting suspicious. None of her bags were packed, most of her belongings were strewn about in Luke’s room, and she hadn’t made an effort to start packing them either. She also hadn’t told him when her flight back to Michigan was which was odd because Luke would’ve dropped everything to take her to the airport, especially with their upcoming road trip.

The Devils had a four-game break before they had to head to Tampa on Thursday, they had just played the Canucks and everything seemed to slow down for a minute. Luke came into his room seeing his girlfriend sitting on his bed with her legs crossed under her and staring out the window, “What’s up?”

She snapped her head over and looked at him, “Do you want to go out for dinner?”

Luke shrugged, “Not really. I’m kind of tired.”

Y/n sighed and redirected her gaze to the window again. Luke sat behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, “Do you want to go out for dinner?”

She nodded, “I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.”

“And we need to go out to dinner to do that?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “I just thought it would be nice to.”

The boy agreed finally, the two sitting there in silence before watching their show on y/n’s laptop. They watched Supernatural as they waited for a good time to start getting ready. They got through 6 episodes before they finally decided to get ready. 

Luke drove to the restaurant and they made small talk along the way, talking about Luke’s upcoming games and y/n deflecting any questions her boyfriend brought up about school. They walked into the restaurant, got a table for two, and looked over the menu. 

After their waiter brought their appetizer and took their main course order, y/n looked at Luke seriously, “So, I need to talk to you about something.”

“If you’re breaking up with me this is a very cruel way to do it.” Luke drew his hand away from hers and held it in his lap, nervous about what was to come of the conversation.

“Luke, I’m not breaking up with, quite the opposite actually.”

Luke tilted his head in confusion, his spirit raising slightly at her words. She reached her hand out once more and he gladly took it, tightening his hand a little once hers was in his grasp again. 

“You know how at the beginning of the break you asked me if I ever wished we could be together all the time?” He nodded his head, not connecting any dots, “And you know how I said it would all work out someday?”

Once again he nodded and she fidgeted nervously, “Well dreams are about to become a reality.”

“What?”

“I didn't want to tell you at the beginning of the break in case something went wrong but I’m transferring to Hofstra, which is only an hour away from East Rutherford.”

Luke’s gaze widened at the news, “You’re what?”

“Yeah, and Jack has been helping me find an apartment for us that’s halfway between here and the campus so we both wouldn’t have to commute that far. He also kind of helped me already paid for it so I hope you like it because if you didn’t that would be embarrassing but you not even being on board with this whole plan would be horrible because I already kind of drove myself crazy doing this. Of course, you’re not a fan of this plan, you’re just starting your rookie season and this must be a lot, this changes everything. Ugh, what am I doing chasing after-”

Luke kissed her in order to get her to stop talking. She grunted at the impact but kissed back before pulling away and looking at him, “I’m sorry.”

“Y/n/n, take a breather.”

Y/n took a breath in and let it out slowly, eyes wandering around in an effort not to make any eye contact with her boyfriend. 

“Of course, I want to move in with you. It just took me off guard.” He smiled at her and she smiled back. 

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Since the first week of school.”

Luke looked at her with a wide-eyed gaze, “Are you serious?”

She nodded, tears coming to her eyes, “It was really hard that first week, I wasn’t able to see you every day which was a huge change. It got worse during hockey season because they all had practice and besides the girls, I didn’t really have anyone to hang out with. I mean, the guys always reminded me of you and how you guys would always hang out. And then it would remind me of the time I first met them.”

“I think they liked you more than I did, which wasn’t possible but they acted like it was.”

“Ethan was so excited.” The two chuckled at the memory before locking eyes once again, “I started looking at Universities that weren’t too far from here because I didn’t want you to have to commute that far.”

“If you wanted to go to somewhere two hours from here I would’ve done the drive if it meant I could live with you.”

“Trust me, I know, Jack said the same thing when we were talking about it, which is why I didn’t tell you.”

“When did you have time to find an apartment?”

“Well I asked Jack about it in late September and early October and he was able to start looking at places for me, which also probably explains some of the days where you guys had off days and he was gone for a while. He facetimed me when he thought it was something I would really like. And then that one day when I said I wanted to go shopping for you but I didn’t want to go alone? Yeah, the two of us went out to look at our apartment.”

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

“So are you two looking for this apartment together?” The realtor asked as they stood at the entryway to the apartment.

“No, no, no definitely not. He’s my boyfriend’s brother. I’m surprising him.”

The realtor nodded her head and opened the door. They spent a little time walking through the apartment, y/n planning out where everything would go in her head as they peeked through the rooms. She smiled at the space when they circled back to the living room.

“I really like this one, I think it could be it. Jack?”

Jack nodded his head in agreement, “I like it, I think Luke would too.”

They finished talking to the realtor, going over the costs and the other essential things. They walked out of the apartment complex, heading towards Jack’s car where they got in and y/n made him crank the heat up. 

“Do you think he’ll actually want to move in with me?”

“Of course he will y/n/n. I haven’t been able to go a day without him bringing you up in conversation. I love you, but it gets annoying.”

She laughs but nerves are still evident on her face, “Hey, listen.” Jack turns his body to face his, in his words ‘future-sister-in-law’, “I can promise you, without a doubt, that my brother would be over the fucking moon if you offered to move in with him. He wouldn’t care where it was, or what it looked like, as long as you were happy and he got to live with you. That man is in love with you and anyone can see it.”

She nodded her head, “Thanks, Jack.”

“Come on, what are future-brother-in-laws for?”

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

“Our apartment?”

She nodded, “Jack paid half and I paid the other because I certainly wasn’t going to let your brother pay for our apartment, my pride wouldn’t be able to handle it. If it was Quinn, maybe, but definitely not Jack.”

He laughed at the thought, “You know how to keep me on my toes. But I wouldn't change it for the world.”

“I try my hardest.”

“So, when can we move in?”

✧༺✎༻∞

'It's a new soundtrack, I could dance to this beat, beat forevermore The lights are so bright, but they never blind me, me'

Instead of the depressing music Luke and y/n would be listening to right now, they were listening to their productive music, moving boxes from the truck to their new apartment. When they finished, y/n started to unpack the things for the kitchen, dancing to ‘Welcome to New York’. 

Luke came barrelling in from their new bedroom, sliding on the wood in his stocks, “Hey!”

She turned around and looked at him, plates in hand, “What’s up, Lukey?”

“We should go shopping for new furniture. I mean we have like nothing in this place.”

He was right, the only pieces of furniture they had were an old couch from y/n’s parents, a mattress that they had blown up as they waited for their new one to get here, and a TV that sat in their room. She nodded her head, “Let me put these last plates away and we can go.”

Luke jumped up on the island and looked at her, listening to the music, “Isn’t this like, your thirteenth time listening to this song?”

“So what? It’s a good song. Are you hating on Taylor Swift, Luke Warren Hughes?” 

The boy held up his hands in surrender, a somewhat scarred look on his face, “No. Of course not.”

“Good.”

The two went out shopping, stopping for food on the way back. When they got back it was late at night, the bright lights of New York City streaming into their apartment window. They sat on some cushions they had gotten in the living room, their new TV not yet on a mantle as neither of them wanted to build it yet. 

They watched whatever game was on at the time, Luke commentating most of the time on actual technical things as y/n just yelled when someone she knew, or liked, did something stupid. When the game was over, the two yawned simultaneously, cleaning up their garbage and making their way to the room. 

Laying in bed the two looked at each other, the lights from outside still coming in through the window, “This is so surreal.”

“Hmm?” Y/n’s gaze moved from their hands that were intertwined to his face, “Being with you, in our apartment, in our own, well bed for now.”

She agreed with him with a subtle nod, “You know, I’d always get annoyed when I was at my dorm and the lights from outside would come through the curtain, but now that it doesn’t really bother me.”

Despite the heat in the room, y/n moved closer to Luke as she was still cold. Luke wrapped his arms around her, placing her head on his chest, “And why’s that?”

“Because you’re here.”

“You’re so cringy.”

“But you love it.”

“I do. And I love you.”

She looked up, “I love you too.”

Placing a kiss to her lips and then on the top of her head, Luke adjusted his arms so the one wouldn’t fall asleep but he was still able to hold her, finding it almost impossible but didn’t really care in the moment.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

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[doremimosasol]

𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 - 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ☆

warnings: suggestive, home situation

word count: 2 k

summary: looking for some peace and quiet but interrupted by a thief

@thatdammchickennugget ‘s Hogmarch challenge prompt 2

a/n: thank you thank you so so much @slytherinslut0 and @pizzaapeteer for proofreading this and taking the time to make suggestions!

The Black Lake was a place you often visited after school hours. Most days it was a quiet place, which always confused you — not enough people took advantage of the peace it brought. The majority of them just stayed in the castle. Not you though. It was the great opportunity for some change in scenery, the never ending hallways tiring your brain at certain times.

You loved the lake, all year round. During winter it was a magical place where you could use your skates to dance on the ice, when it transformed into a tapestry of thick glass. It calmed your mind, the scratching sounds of your blades gliding along, making you feel as if you were floating...

The clanking of firewhisky bottles rang out into the night, as they continued to clash together from within the bag you were carrying. Admittedly, this was something that you did often: using an invisibility potion and sneaking into the Three Broomsticks. It wasn't stealing, you always left some money behind for the things you took. It was just a smart way of getting your hands on some alcohol around here.

It was a hot summer day, leaving the evening a light, breezy temperature, the sky painted in beautiful shades of blues, oranges, and purples. You decided to seat yourself on a rock close to where the waters hit the edge, and took off your shoes and socks, dipping your feet into the water. The sensation of the slightly cold water cooling your mind and body.

You emptied the contents of your bag: some cake, 6 bottles of firewhisky, and 2 muffins. like you could possibly devour everything but there was no harm in bringing spare. Who knew... You always hoped some prince charming would appear out of nowhere and decided to join you in your drunken activities. Your hopeless romantic state of mind couldn't help but wander through the possibilities.

"Thank you for that." The sudden voice startled you as someone sat down beside you and opened a bottle of your firewhisky. Of course, it was Mattheo Riddle, that boy had no shame. You couldn't even say something, you just sat there sort of flabbergasted that he even dared to pick up one of the things you 'bought' with your own money.

His eyes never left yours as he chugged down almost half the bottle, trying to hide the clear stinging in his throat. You rolled your eyes at his tough boy facade.

However, it wasn't working on you as you snatched the bottle from his grasp immediately. "Excuse me? What the actual fuck do you think you're doing?" You sent him a glare while chugging down almost all of the remaining liquor.

"Mhmm, you know we just indirectly kissed, right?" He had a smug look on his face, of course, he had to act this way. "Ah come on, y/n, don't be such a party-pooper. Isn't this better than drinking alone? It almost looked pathetic."

Pathetic? He was the one who called you pathetic? The guy who had a bloodied face almost every single day of the week? "Who exactly are you calling pathetic here? Because all I see is a dirty thief."

He raised his brow and just laughed. Pardon? The fucking audacity. "You should drink all of these bottles, maybe that'll get rid of that stick up your ass." He snatched the bottle back and downed everything left in one go. "What else have you brought? Cake?" He took a look at it, it was just a plain vanilla cake with some icing on top. "I'll ask it nicely this time since you seem to care so much about that. So, please dear y/n, can I have a piece of that cake? ...and another bottle?"

You couldn't believe this guy, he suddenly came here to join you and acted like all this was his to eat and drink? But who else were you even going to share it with... Maybe you should just give it to him, maybe he'd surprise you for once. "Fine. But 3 bottles each, okay?"

"3 bottles each, deal."

As it seems, Mattheo turned out to not be that bad after all. As more drinks were consumed you watched his demeanor loosen up and his guard drop. To the point he got looser and started to tell you about himself: his friends, his studies, and even his father. You don't know if it was the alcohol or if he just felt comfortable enough to share those things with you.

You found yourself telling him about your own family too, the situation at home, and that most of the time you just stayed at school during the holidays. It sort of felt good, letting it out. Though your situation would never compare to his, it was nice for someone to understand you. Someone who went through the same shit as you.

Even though, you just now kind of started to get to know each other, you promised each other something. A promise to stay at school every holiday, to make it epic as if it were at home. To be each other's home while that home didn't exist for either of you. It would be nice to do something other than reading during those days, but to actually have someone to talk to maybe.

"Did you know it's possible to lead a cow upstairs... but not downstairs?" It just came up to you and you started even laughing before you finished your sentence.

It was obvious that you confused the guy because he just straight-up looked at you with a judgy and confused face. "What?"

"I mean I'm just stating facts here. You can't lead a cow downstairs, you know, like a cow. Moo." It all sounded really slurred, it'd be a wonder if Mattheo even understood one word you were saying.

"Are you speaking parseltongue or am I really that drunk?" He squinted his eyes slightly to even make out your whole form, he was obviously struggling. Both of you were extremely intoxicated.

"What?" You looked at him, maybe you were speaking parseltongue. Could it be? Wait, did he speak parseltongue? "Do you speak it yourself?"

"Ah yes, of course, heir of Slytherin kind of things, you know." He suddenly started sissing and hissing and you weren't even sure if he was being for real or just making some shit up. You just nodded, agreeing with whatever he was saying, hoping he wouldn't wake up any snakes in the bushes behind the two of you.

You averted your gaze to the lake in front of you and got the most ridiculous idea all of a sudden. You didn't even announce your stupid idea but just started undressing until you were left standing in only your underwear.

"Are you stripping for me now? Alright, continue." He leaned his body back on his arms to get a better look, a disgustingly attractive smirk covering his face. Sucks to be him because before he knew it, he got a large splash of water thrown all over him when you hit the surface of the water.

"Are you crazy?!" It was quite the sight, his face was fuming. It almost looked murderous, didn't he like water or something? He couldn't be that much of a pussy, right?

"Come on get in! It's actually still quite warm!" The past warm days warmed up the lake quite a bit and it was a surprisingly comfortable temperature. You were even surprised yourself.

"Absolutely not! You're insane, y/n. I won't save you when you start drowning, you'll just have to die right in front of my eyes then." He looked extremely agitated. He was wet already so what would be the difference in getting in?

"Oh, come on... Please? It's not even that deep, I can still touch the ground with my feet. Don't be a wuss!" His eyes squinted and he got to his feet after all. He took off his clothes and you couldn't deny that you quite liked the sight. The hours of quidditch practice were visible hidden underneath that shirt.

"You're staring, princess." He jumped in after and you almost drowned by the water that splashed right into your face when he hit the surface. The water didn't taste all too pleasant, it could just be the alcohol but it wasn't nice.

"Well if you like staring so much, maybe you should touch it? Touch is better than seeing after all." Before you knew it he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. He took your hand and guided it to his chest, running it downwards. Good thing you were drunk because there's no way you would've ever done this sober.

"Don't be so shy, you weren't shy when you were almost fucking me with your eyes." He pulled you deeper into the water which made you unable to still touch the ground. He was doing this on purpose, he could easily still stand on the ground in the deeper waters. He almost forced you to wrap your legs around him. Silly you, it was his plan all along.

"Kiss me." Excuse me? He did not just ask you that? "Come on, y/n, give me a little kiss." Only one small move and your lips would be touching, he was extremely close to your mouth. He blew on them on purpose just to lure you into his trap. "Kiss me..."

And that's what you did, he wanted a little kiss but he most definitely got more. The whole night had been tense and this was your way of showing him your true desires. It was obvious you weren't alone in those feelings tonight. Because of the way he kissed you back, it was almost magical, like he sent you to another dimension.

He moved his hands lower and squeezed your bottom slightly which made you gasp into the kiss. He took this opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth, exploring it like it was his last meal. It was like both of you were completely in sync, your bodies moving in a rhythm that made your heart almost jump out of your chest.

Just when you were about to lose it, he pulled back to take a deep breath. The both of you were exchanging breaths like it was the oxygen you needed. "Damn, y/n, I didn't know you could kiss like that. Let's try again, shall we?" Those stupid eyes of his, just made you melt into his touch. You shouldn't have folded this fast for him, but you couldn't help it. Everyone would do the same when the Mattheo Riddle would look at them with those chocolate-brown eyes.

Only the moon and the stars could retell the events that went down that night, both your bodies intertwined with the moonlight reflecting on your wet skin. The skin that was meant to be each other canvas, painted by the passion but faded over time.

Mattheo thought about it every night in bed, getting chills when he thought about the kisses and imagining it happening again. His fingers traced the places on his skin that were touched by you, trying to replicate the feeling your fingers gave him.

During normal school weeks, both of you wouldn’t even talk to each other, just the occasional glance. But those looks spoke more than words.

Both of you waiting for the holidays to come to share the same passion like that night once again. Hoping that the other kept their end of the promise to spend them together.

And yes… after the fair sharing of gifts for Christmas, the best gift you could’ve got that night was to be touched by him like that again.

[milunalupin]

Hiiii congrats on the 100 followers 🍾 can I request a hockey player!James x reader in an already established relationship? Where jamie sees reader wearing one of his jerseys as a good luck charm (love-induced placebo effect) and one day, reader comes into a match WITHOUT the jersey?? The rest of how shenanigans is up to u thanks!

ty so so much for requesting, i hope this is hockey-y enough lol <3

— lucky charm

hockey player!james potter x reader ★ 860 words

a/n - i don't know anything about hockey so please bare with me

James was running around the flat like a madman, muttering something about cross checking and knee pads. He pushed past you a little too hard, retracing his steps to mumble a 'sorry' as he kisses your temple. Today's hockey game was very important, according to your boyfriend. As captain of the Gryffindors, he would not allow his team to lose their biggest rivals, the Slytherins. Your nose scrunched is disgust as you watched him pack his dirty lucky socks, walking to the kitchen to grab something to eat during the game.

As he was zipping up his game bag, you walked back over with a few snacks and his water bottle. He smiled fondly at you while accepting the bags of pretzels and baby carrots.

"I'll see you soon love," he wraps you in a tight hug, pulling away from you to look down at you sternly. "Don't forget to wear my jersey please."

Your eyes widened, and let out a sound of disbelief. "It was one time Jamie, three years ago!"

"I know but love of my life, apple of my eye, we really need to win this game." he whined, lightly shaking you by your shoulders.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you pushed him towards the door, reassuring him that you wouldn't forget. James pressed a few more kisses to your cheeks before clambering out the door with his duffel bag hung over his shoulder.

James had met you at a post-win celebration at a local bar, trying to impress you with all his hockey talk. Having had a few shots and nursing a cocktail, your tipsy self just nodded and smiled pretending to understand what the muscular cutie was talking about. When you met up again sober you admitted to not knowing anything about hockey, which didn't seem to be too much of a problem as he had asked you to be his just a few weeks later. Although you still didn't fully understand the sport, you still showed up to every game as James' biggest fan.

Back in the kitchen, you finished washing last night's dishes and made some hot chocolate for yourself to take to the game, filling a tumbler and not bothering to fully twist the cap on as you were now running a few minutes behind schedule. Scrambling to slip your shoes on by the door, of course you tripped over James's converse as you always do, only this time you're hot chocolate spills all over your white 'Potter' jersey.

You squeeze your eyes shut and groan. "Oh, he's gonna murder me."

You found your seat just in time for the faceoff, shivering from the cold metal of the arena benches. Maroon and emerald players danced around the ice, getting into their formations for the first round. James was in the middle as the team's center, waiting for the puck to drop. As soon as it did James took control, then passing it to his teammate. You watched as it flew from player to player, the sounds on skates on ice and the opinionated crowd bringing a smile to your face. Gryffindors fans started to stand when James was near the Slytherin's goal with the puck, then boo-ing the green team when the puck was stolen from him. The game was going by smoothly, you snacking on some pretzels as the two teams kept switching off on who had control of the puck.

You stood up and screamed with excitement as James scored, waving your arms around. His head whipped over to your usual section to find you, his bright grin faltering as he noticed your appearance. He let his eyes linger on your plain maroon sweater a few moments more before scoffing lightly and skating back to his position for the next period. The next few rounds were played a dirtier, with the Slytherin players checking the Gryffindors into the tempered glass and tripping them onto the ice.

The game ended with the Gryffindors winning 7-5, maroon-clad fans throwing up popcorn and cheering in celebration. You followed the crowd out, making your way towards the locker rooms, finding a spot against the wall to wait for James.

You watched as he walked out without paying you any attention. Frowning, you jogged to catch up to him. "Jamie, hey- James!"

He turned around with the biggest pout you'd ever seem from anyone, mumbling so softly you almost didn't hear him. "You're not wearing my jersey."

"I spilled hot chocolate on it so I had to change, I'm sorry my love." you stepped forward, taking his hands in yours. "But hey, you still won the game and you played amazingly, so maybe it wasn't so lucky after all."

"Well the jersey was for extra luck, my main lucky charm is you, so thank you for being here." he sighed and pulled you into a hug, kissing the top of your head.

"You're welcome, although you don't really need luck because you're so talented, James." You chuckled, feeling him squeeze you a little tighter as he nodded.

"But I was worried about today's game for a second so can you please wear the jersey next game?"

[cuartoretorno]

Lisa Marie Pareja de Tim Burton 1991 - 2001

[keeps-ache]

it's finally getting noticeably cooler..... hope blossoms.........

[topguncortez]

Slap Shot || Chapter 1

A Jake Seresin Hockey AU

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: You arrive at your new job in North Island, and are hit with memories that you'd much rather leave behind. Jake faces the repercussions of his fight on the ice with his teammate

word count: 2.9k

warnings: grief, mentions of sexism, injuries, losing a parent, locker room talk, hockey inaccuracies, mentions of cheating, workplace harassment, mentions of sex

When you were about five years old, your kindergarten teacher asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up. Most of your classmates gave answers such as “teacher” or “doctor” or “superman”. You, on the other hand, stood in front of the packed gym on the night of your kindergarten graduation, your head held high as you gave your answer. 

“A Stanley Cup Winner.” 

Of course at the time, you didn��t understand that women could not win the Stanley Cup (you figured that out at age 8 and it caused the meltdown of all epic meltdowns). The closest thing women could get to the Stanley Cup was a gold medal at the Olympics. You worked your ass off from the time you could successfully skate without falling, to your senior year of highschool. Every waking moment you had was spent at the rink, running drills from sunup to sun down. You lived and breathed hockey, and as the daughter of the late great Michael L/N, you had big shoes to fill. 

You just never imagined the moment it would all come crashing down. 

It was a dumb idea, in hindsight. It was a really dumb idea. Weeks from the US Olympic team tryouts, you agreed to joining your friends at the lake. A place you liked to avoid like the plague. It wasn’t that your parents and coach kept you away from having any fun in your life, you simply chose to ignore the dangerous stunts your friends like to partake in. But for some reason, you decided to take a chance and take a break from the grueling training schedule your coach had created. It was a hot summer day in the middle of July, and a day out on the boat sounded like heaven. 

You should’ve said no to trying to wakeboard. You should’ve just stayed on the boat, watching the epic wipeouts by your friends. It would’ve been the smart choice to make. . . but you never were that smart. One bad landing into the wake created by the boat, had you breaking the surface with a horrible scream. Your friends reacted quickly, jumping into the water to help you stay afloat as you screamed in pain, your collar bone protruding awkwardly under your skin. They got you to the hospital quickly where you were told you had broken your collarbone and torn your ACL in your knee. The physical pain wasn’t even as bad as the emotional pain that came a few weeks later. 

“I’m sorry, but you will never play hockey at the level you are playing it now. I suggest. . . quitting altogether if you want to avoid having a shoulder replacement before you’re 30.” 

A bullet to the chest would’ve hurt less. 

At first, you laughed at the doctor’s suggestion, all but telling him to fuck off and asking to see his credentials. Your parents had tried to talk some sense into you, telling you that maybe heeding the doctor’s advice could be beneficial. Your dad knew guys from the league who had shoulder or knee injuries, and it never ended up in their favor. Years of pain and suffering, turning to questionable methods of dealing with the pain, missing out on crucial time with their families or significant others. But you were stubborn, and didn’t want to quit playing when you were about to try-out for the biggest moment of your life. 

But you never made it that far. In fact, you never finished your senior season. From the first puck drop, everything was shit. You weren’t as strong as you had been, having lost muscle in both your arms and legs. You felt off balance, and were cautious of every move you made on the ice. You knew the statistics, you were at a higher risk of tearing another ligament in your knee after tearing the first one. Your collar bone, even though it had healed without having to have surgery, clicked and popped anytime you tried to make a slapshot. You were making mistakes you hadn’t made since peewee hockey. Your teammates were growing increasingly annoyed, your coaches were becoming exasperated, and your dreams of making it on the US Olympic team had slowly drifted away. It was a hard choice, but in the middle of your senior year, you decided to hang up your skates for the last time. 

Even though you weren’t actively playing, your love for the sport didn’t die along with your Olympic dream. In fact, you found a new way to get involved with the sport, deciding that you were going to major in public relations and team management. Your goal had shifted, and now you wanted to be the first female Hockey manager. 

But like most goals, that was easier said than done. 

It was 2024, and even with the establishment of the Profession Women’s Hockey League and the US Women’s Hockey team winning numerous gold medals on the world stage, women in the league still weren’t taken seriously. You were told all through college, as you sat in your team management class to choose a different sport like swimming or volleyball or gymnastics. More “women friendly sports”. You weren’t going to throw in the towel and give up on your dream, no matter how many teams had denied you. 

When you were hired by the North Island Daggers, you weren’t sure what to expect. They were known as the joke team of the NHL. Always finishing last every season, being most teams shoe-in win when they played against one another. Having gone from working as a PR rep for the Dallas Stars, you felt as though this was a demotion, a punishment for a freelance article you had written about how women were being treated in the NHL. You knew the article was going to be risky when you sat down and wrote it. You just didn’t expect to get a call an hour after the article was published telling you that you were being sent to work with the Daggers. 

“We’re happy to have you here,” Beau Simpson, spoke as your heels clicked down the long hallway behind him, “As you can see, we need a little PR help.” 

“Yeah, I saw that fight between Holloway and Seresin the other night.” The whole NHL fan base saw the fight, but you weren’t about to tell Simpson something he was probably painfully aware of, “Interesting decision to bench him before going against Endmonton though. He’s your strongest player.” 

“Can’t let him get away with bad behavior,” Simpson shrugged, stopping outside a large conference room with glass walls and a large oval table in the middle, “Hey, I’m sorry about your dad. I got the honor of playing against him my rookie year. Hell of a player. Terrible thing, cancer is.” 

“Yeah, thanks,” It had been months since your dad died from cancer, shocking the world of hockey. You thought by now you would have been used to hearing condolences from strangers, but they still made your ears burn and your face flush. 

Simpson nodded courtly, opening the door to the conference room where two sharply dressed men and a woman sat. 

“Gentlemen, this is Y/N L/N, the new PR rep for the North Island Daggers,” Simpson introduced you as the two men stood up, and you immediately knew who they were. 

“Pete Mitchell and Tom Kazansky, co-owners of the North Island Daggers,” You answered, shaking both of their hands, “An honor to meet you, both.” 

“The honor is all ours, Miss Hamilton,” Pete smiled at you as he sat down. 

You wanted to correct him, but decided not to. Sometimes, it was easier to let people call you by your father’s last name, than try and explain why you dropped it and took up your mother’s maiden name. The world of sports was a game of who you know and who you belong to. If your last name was that of a hall of famer, you were almost guaranteed anything and everything you wanted, and you hated that. When you were vying for the spot on Team USA, you wanted it because you were skilled, not because of who your dad was. The same stood now, as you were trying to work your way up in the hockey world. You wanted this job because you were good at it, not because your dad was hockey royalty. 

“I’m Mrs. Wright, the executive public relations and human resource officer,” The woman, who’s blonde hair was slicked back in an impressive bun, held her hand out to you. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Wright,” You smiled at her, trying hard to not gawk at the huge diamond ring that sat on her finger. 

“We’re glad you could join us on such short notice,” Tom spoke, “We know that you just got let go from the Stars for a shit reason if you ask me.”

“Thanks,” You muttered, clasping your hands on the conference table in front of you, “I am happy to be picked up by the Daggers though. My dad really enjoyed his time here as a rookie.” 

“Damn, we missed him when he left,” Pete shook his head, as if he were remembering the “good ol’ days” as your father referred to him during his rookie season. 

“The reason we hired you, Miss Hamilton,” Mrs. Wright spoke up, breaking up the reminiscing, “Is because we are in the middle of a PR storm. We have a player who has caused quite the controversy lately and is in danger of losing his sponsors. From our research, we know that you do fantastic work with building player profiles, turning rookies into known players, making the bad guys look like the good boys. We need you to do that.” 

“Okay,” You nodded, “So am I taking over the social media accounts like I did in Dallas, or-” 

Mrs. Wright looked apprehensively at Pete and Tom, who sat up a bit in their seats. 

“Not necessarily,” Pete cleared his throat, “You will be paired one on one with one of our problematic players.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, before realization struck you, “Wait. . .” You held your finger up, “You hired me to be a glorified babysitter?” 

— — — 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” 

Jake grunted as he set the barbell back on the rack above him. His gray workout t-shirt was drenched in sweat as he sat up, looking both his agent and trainer in the eye, “I’m fine on my own.” 

“You got in a fight,” His agent, Steven, deadpanned. 

“Everyone gets in fights, its hockey,” Jake shrugged as Javy handed him his water bottle. 

“With your own teammate.” 

Jake glanced over to the other side of the workout room, where Wren Holloway was working out with Bradley Bradshaw, still supporting a black eye from the fight that broke out a couple of days ago on the ice. The fight, which was being dubbed “The Dagger Civil War,” was definitely not a highlight Jake liked to have hanging over him. But in the game of hockey, sometimes the tension runs high, and in that particular game, Jake had gone out looking for a fight from the moment the puck first dropped. It was just unfortunate that his opponent was his teammate. 

“Look,” Steven shifted on his feet, crossing his arms across his chest, “The fight is the least of our issues right now. We have sponsorships ready to pull out on you because you’ve been labeled the “hot head” and the “problematic child”. And what is this that I hear about an affair with the coach’s wife?” 

Jake groaned, standing up from the workout bench, and taking the sweat towel from Javy’s hand. Both of them followed Jake through the weight room. The Daggers might’ve been the worst team in the NHL, having a history of one play-off appearance in the 70 years since they’ve been a team, they sure did have one of the nicest facilities Jake had ever been in. State of the art work-out and physical therapy rooms. Rehabilitation pools, and an indoor track. In-house chefs that served breakfast, lunch and dinner, plus tons of snack shops throughout the building. And the best part, two full sized practice rinks. 

Jake walked over to the smoothie shack, where a bright-eyed hopeful girl sat down his regular smoothie order, his name with a heart around it. 

“Here you go, Jake,” She batted her eyes as Jake took the smoothie, making a clear display of taking off the sticky note with her number on it and setting it back on the counter.  

“Not interested, but thanks,” He nodded, turning back to Javy and Steven, who glared at him, “What?” 

“You sleep with her too?” Steven asked and Javy snickered. Jake was going to shake his head no, but had to double check who it was behind the counter, before shaking his head. Steven rolled his eyes as Jake walked towards one of the rehab rooms. 

The moment Jake laid down on the exam table, Javy got right to work. Javy and Jake were like a well oiled machine, they knew one another since they were kids, growing up next door to one another. They played on the same youth hockey team, until it became too expensive for Javy’s family to afford. It broke the young boy’s heart to have to give up the sport he loved, and Jake had begged his parents to help Javy be able to play. Even though the Seresins insisted on paying for Javy’s fees and equipment, the boy didn’t have the same passion for the sport as Jake did, and he thought it would be a waste. Instead, Javy found another way to be on the bench next to Jake, working as the team equipment manager, to athletic training assistant, to athletic trainer for the Daggers. 

“Shoulder still bothering you?” Javy asked, grabbing Jake’s arm and moving it in a variety of ways. 

“Yeah,” Jake grimaced, “Still has that whole clicking thing going on. Guess that hit from Svec was harder than I thought.” 

Javy snickered, remembering the hit Jake suffered a few weeks ago, “He laid you out flat, man.” 

“Shut up,” Jake grumbled. 

“Mhm,��� Steven cleared his throat, directing Jake’s attention back to him, “We weren’t done talking yet.” Jake rolled his eyes, which only seemed to infuriate his manager, “This is serious, Jake,” Steven sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Simpson wants you out, wants you so far gone from the Daggers, hell, probably even the National Hockey League.” 

Jake scoffed, “I’m the best on the team."

“You haven’t been for weeks.” 

Jake huffed again, knowing that Steven was right. He has been off his game for the past couple of weeks. Missing key plays and open teammates. Almost all his shots were deflected or totally missing the net. Not to mention, he felt like his skating had modeled that of a newborn calf, shaky and off balance. The hit from Svec several weeks ago, was just the tip of the iceberg of the list of injuries Jake seemed to have racked up in the past couple of weeks. 

“Look, your spot is in danger.” 

That got Jake’s attention, making him sit up from his laid back position, “What are you talking about?” 

“There’s a kid down on the juniors that is amazing. He’s either been breaking or matching all your records. They are calling him the next you.” 

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t really pay attention to any other league but the one he was currently in. Of course, he kept his eye out for any information about the national team. It had been his dream since he got to the NHL to play for Team USA and make it to the olympics. Playing on the junior team had been one of his greatest memories, and when he felt for the first time, he could actually make it in this sport. 

How could he have ignored that there was someone breaking all his records? 

“Who is this kid?” Jake asked. 

“Drake Silvia. He’s signed to UMich, but also a projected first round draft pick,” Steven clenched his jaw, “They want him. And they will have him. . . at your expense.” 

Jake felt like his heart dropped to his ass. He had never felt the feeling of fear for his spot on a team before. He’s always been the best. Always been the hot commodity that every team wants, that every coach would roll out the red carpet to get him to visit their team. Before he decided to go straight to the drafts, he had nearly every single college in the country and some in Canada, begging for an ounce of his attention. 

“However,” Steven looked around the empty rehab room before leaning in close, “Henderson signed his retirement forms this morning.” 

“What?!” Jake spat out, “He’s retiring?” 

“No announcement will be made until the season is over,” Steven nodded, “But Henderson is done after this year. . . and the captain spot will be open. It could be yours.” 

Besides making Team USA, being named captain has also been on the list of dreams for Jake. All the hockey greats have been captains. Gretzky, Crosby, Hamilton. Jake’s childhood bedroom had their jerseys hanging up in frames. To Jake, no one remembered you unless you were the captain, or won a Stanley Cup. And Jake wanted both. He wanted both as badly as he needed oxygen to live. 

Jake sighed, knowing what the answer to his question was going to be, “So what do I have to do?”

A smirk arose on Steven’s cheeks, “If you want to stay on this team, and make captain, you need to abide by the rules. And that means having a babysit-” He shook his head correcting himself, “A personal PR rep.” 

“Fine, I’ll take the babysitter.”

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