๊ณ ์ ๋ ํธ์
ยฒโด ห ๐จ ๐HANE
39 posts
ยฒโด ห ๐จ ๐HANE
@ICEDHOLLANDER
holy shit โ i love you too .
21 + ๐ mdni ๊ฐ์
์ผ Haziran 2022
70 ํ๋ก์81 ํ๋ก์
ยฒโด ห ๐จ ๐HANE ๋ฆฌํธ์ํจ
๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ ฬต๐ฬต๐ฬต๐ฬต๐ฬต๐ฬต ฬต
๐๐๐พ๐๐พ ๐ ๐ฝ๐๐'๐ ๐ฟ๐พ๐พ๐
( ฬต๐ฐฬตอ๐ปฬตอ๐พฬตอ๐ฝฬตอ๐ดฬต )*;
๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ ฬต๐ฬต๐ฬต๐ฬต๐ฬต๐ฬต
๐๐๐พ๐๐พ ๐ ๐ฟ๐พ๐พ๐
๐บ๐ ( ฬต๐ฬตอ๐ฬตอ๐ฬตอ๐ฬต ) *โข.
Portuguรชs
/ sorry for being MIA for a few days !! was really sick with covid in the big 26 ๐ iโll get to replies in ~3 hours
English
Just before the Boston/Montreal game, a snowstorm strands both teams at O'Hare. Heโs settled in a corner with headphones and pop music. He was stuck here for 6 more hours. Wow. And thenโ@EsteemedPlayer dropped into the seat across from him. Of course. โโฆRoz. What do you want?โ
English
+ locker, not looking at Atlas, giving the rookie space to breathe. He grabbed his personal kit: compression wrap, topical gel, ice packs. Things heโd learned to hoard.
โSit,โ he said, gesturing to the bench against the far wall. โIt wonโt take long. I promise.โ
English
His fingers stilled on the tape, and he studied Atlas through the low light. โTeam medics,โ he repeated, the words soft. โTheyโre good. But theyโre also paid to get you back on the ice.โ He scoffed, a derisive sound. โThey didnโt do shit. Look at you.โ
He stood, moving to his +
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โฉ@gcldnbcy
just got through with the team medics. โ a small lie. they only checked to make sure he didnโt have a concussion and advised him to go see the team doctor tomorrow for his elbow.
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+ Just then, through the haze of worry, he felt the sting. A burning line of fire across his thumb. He glanced down. Blood trickled down the pad where his hand had caught the metal corner of a vent. Not deep. Just a paper cut. โShitโumโฆ Do you have bandaids? Anything?โ
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His body reacted before he fully registered the impact. He caught himself with one hand against the wall, the other instinctively rising to steady the person heโd hit. โOh noโIโm fine,โ he said, the words spilling out in a panicked heap. โYou? Are you okay? It was my fault, Iโโ +
(ใฃโโกโ)ใฃ โฅ Harris Drover โฅ ๐ณ๏ธโ๐@Savant_SMM
[Shane Hollander, he knew exactly who he was.] "I'm Harris, it's nice to meet you. Are you ok?" [States in a soft, yet friendly manner. Glancing over toward him in concern.]
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+ He tried again, forcing authority into his tone that he really didnโt feel. "Stay on your side. You donโt need toโ" What? Test me? Push me? Make me want things I can't have? "โto crowd."
He swallowed hard, trying to regain control. "What are you trying to prove, Rozanov?"
English
Bullshit.
The lie was obvious. Shaneโs fingers balled into fists at his sides. He could feel his pulse in his throat, in places he absolutely should not be feeling blood rush right now. He was sure the tent in his pants was obscene by now.
"JustโIโfuckโฆ" He started, stopped. +
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@centrepucks
++ ( predatory ). โIs not like Iโm going to try anything. . .โ A feign tone, because he was lying โ and heโd test the waters to see however long itโd take for Montrealโs โperfect boyโ to ( break ).
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ยฒโด ห ๐จ ๐HANE ๋ฆฌํธ์ํจ
๐๐น๐๐ฎ ๐ฅ๐ผ๐๐ฎ๐ป๐ผ๐
โโ NHL ๐ถ๐๐๐ก๐๐๐
" ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐."
English
/ guys i am SO sorry for the late starters and stuff im gonna be honest ive just been playing fortnite all day
English
The locker room had been emptied hours ago. Shane sat on a stool, taping his stick after the game.
The door creaked.
When he lifted his gaze, @gcldnbcy stood frozen in the doorway, visor cracked, elbow guarded.
โHurt?โ He gave a soft smile. โWhat happened? I have first aid.โ
English
The Montreal Voyageurs PR team arranged a mandatory photoshoot. Bright lights buzzed in the backroom, overwhelming Shane as he stood sore from a 3โ2 loss to Boston. โMr. Hollander, this is @JUSTYOURBRAT, your stylist,โ He nodded, and extended his hand, palms clammy. โUh, hiโฆโ
English
ยฒโด ห ๐จ ๐HANE ๋ฆฌํธ์ํจ
โโโญโจ๐โโ
๐๐ฏ๐๐ซ๐ฒ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ฅ๐ ๐ซ๐๐๐๐ซโ๐ฌ ๐๐ซ๐๐๐ฆ. ๐๐๐งโ๐ญ ๐๐๐ฅ๐ข๐๐ฏ๐ ๐ ๐๐ข๐ ๐ข๐ญ.
English
Tonightโs loss to Ottawa had been a one-goal nightmare. His jaw ticked as he climbed the stairs to the press box. When he rounded the corner, he collided with someone backing out of the media lounge.
โShit, sorry! Are youโโ He stalled, registering the lanyardโs name: @Savant_SMM
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+ thud against his ribs that betrayed the calm he was trying to show. His hand instinctively rose to tug down the hem of his shirt. It was embarrassing. It was intoxicating.
โI'm not angry. Itโs just hot in here. And your cologne isnโt helping.โ His voice trembled pathetically.
English
The amber light turned Ilya's hair the color of gold, and Shane hated that he noticed. Hated the way his eyes seemed to glow in the low light with an intensity that made his throat close up.
It was making his tailored trousers feel uncomfortably tight.
His heart raced, a +
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@centrepucks
++ โI did nothing but stand here. Unless there is law saying I canโt speak, then I speak.โ He was curious why it bothered Shane to his core. Tempted to start walking to him.
English
+ voice crackled through the speakers. โTechnicians en route. Estimated time: 45 to 60 minutes.โ
His eyes closed for one second. 60 minutes in a metal box with Ilya Rozanov. The sponsorship meeting started in 20. Fuck.
He reluctantly turned. โShut up. Donโt even talk.โ
English
His fingers found the emergency panel before Ilya finished speaking. He pressed the call button, and waited. Sweat traced down his temple, and he didnโt know if it was the climbing temperature or the fact he was trapped in here alone with Ilya Rozanov.
Finally, a staticky +
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@centrepucks
@ICEDHOLLANDER ++ gutter. His gaze flickered around them, widening a little at the elevatorโs sudden malfunction. Shit. They were going to be late. โIs okay,โ Ilya assured, staying his distance for the time being. โMaybe we call for help.โ
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