first post, LOCK IN DUDE.
thinking about babygril jschlatt and his super cool hockey player!gf
i’m off my ass and listening to brat rn so if this is just schizophrenic ramblings please just leave me in peace.
-Jschlatt likes his women bloody
-the first time he saw you was after you’d been banished to the penalty box after roughing another player
-he’s in the seat next to it, and pays you no mind as you briskly skate up
-but jumps out of his skin at the sound of you whipping your helmet off at the window beside him and slamming the box door shut
-he turns to pound on the plexiglass and cuss you out but you are a VISION
-kinda sweaty, shaggy hair, ruddy cheeks, and looks that could kill as you very intensely watched the game continue without you
-and to top it all off is deep, cherry red dripping down your pretty, pretty features
-his trance breaks when a whistle blows and you’re grabbing your stick and getting back on the ice
-and you’re giving the strange spectator who was gawking at you your entire time in the box a nasty glare before pulling ur helmet on and shouldering open the door
-something about seeing u so aggressive on the ice gets him GOING
-especially if he learns you have a much calmer demeanor off the ice
-maybe the next monday u see him in your dreaded 8am math class
-exhausted, rocking bed head and your jammas, literally at your lowest
-and you catch his eyes for a moment, recognizing him as the strange spectator from your game
-and he knows u caught him looking and fuckignnn uhh
-you end up sitting in the front corner of the opposite side of the room, pretending it didn’t happen
-literally not ur problem rn
-because of COURSE that weirdo freak was in your 8am math class
-he probably took it on purpose, fucking psycho
-as long as you continue to pretend he’s just another face in the crowd, he will very much continue to be a random face in the crowd
-and he’s scrolling through the weather app on his phone and it’s taking literally every bone in his body to not sneak glances at u
-literally HOW had he not noticed you until now???
-maybe it had to do with how you didn’t tower a good head over most the way you do in your skates while you’re wearing your beloved, worn down crocs
-but now that he’s gotten his first glimpse of you it’s like everything you do catches his eye
-from the way you rub a hand through your hair and slump a little bit after the professor says a number with at least ten digits, and the many different sitting positions you shift through every few minutes
-you hold yourself like an athlete and have the aura of nonchalant coolgirl basically
-maybe he had to tutor you bc if you get below a certain gpa you’re off the team
-which is so unfair because literally HOW are you expected to thrive in these conditions
-nearly all of your teammates have time to shower and nap after morning drills, only you and a few unlucky others were forced to walk right to class from the rink
-and tutoring is only a waste of time considering you have four other classes to juggle on top of it (you have a campus job too, but you only work like three hours a week and you’re usually on your phone the whole time so you don’t really count it)
-your terms are that as soon as your score in the class is a solid 10 points over passing, you can drop tutoring from ur schedule
-so you decide to lock the fuck in and fix the problem ASAP, and decide that if this has to be your problem, it’s gonna be this fuckass TA’s problem too
-so of course you book the maximum hours available for tutoring sessions per week for three weeks (the rest of the season?? gasp)
-and swear that if your grade doesn’t improve in time it’s the TA’s fault, and you’ll just grovel and whine to coach enough to not be put on the bench until further notice
-and of COURSE you show up to your first study session booked in the academic achievement center and low and behold, at the table is that fucking WEIRDO FREAK THAT SPAWNED INTO YOUR MATH CLASS LITERALLY TWO DAYS AGO
-you stand frozen a few feet away and stare for a moment
-taking a second to marinate in the absolute cesspool the universe has thrown you into
-and decide it’s not that deep
-you don’t know this man.
-you carelessly throw your bag down and without a word and plop in the seat opposite to him and lean back far enough that your chair teeters, so you hook your foot on a leg of the table to keep steady as you reach down for your bag, and rustle through your countless loose and crumbled papers for a scraggly notebook and mechanical pencil, before leaning back forward with a thud
-and schlatt is fucking sweating and bouncing his knee, he nearly begins to tap his pencil
-but he’s quickly stops himself when he realizes that most of the other students and staff in the collaboration office are staring at the two of you
-you have the same douchey “i don’t give a fuck about this + also i’m better than you” air about you that most student athletes that come in for tutoring do
-you didn’t even bother taking your goddamn airpod out
-but good GOD he wants u so fuckign bad
-like fucking biting and gnawing his fist
-and to make it worse, you don’t even say anything to him
-you just place your supplies on the table and and give him an expectant look that still managed to still express how badly you wanted to be anywhere other than here
-so with a quick sigh he jumps right into the spiel he gives everyone else
-introduces himself, and reminds you of the class that he’s tutoring you on, and dives right into everything you’re doing wrong
-arguably the most rewarding part of the job
-he even gets to have receipts
-he whips out ur latest exam and begins to go problem by problem explaining what you did wrong
- “you wrote the same exact answer for three problems”
- “and here you’re using formulas for a different exam, which is a bit strange seeing that all the necessary formulas are printed on literally every page”
- “you just wrote ‘idk my b’ for this one”
- “i’m not even sure what you did here, i’ve never seen that symbol before and i cannot think of a way would ever interact to result in…” he pauses and squints, “forty two thousand and sixty nine… point 0 equal sign, equal sign, three.” he raised a brow and looked at u over the rim of his glasses
-and u wanna return to the natural order and shove this nerd in a fucking locker like god intended
-bc WHY are you so embarassed
-tbh you didn’t really mean to let it get this bad, you just gave into your baser desire for nap time and a fun drink a few more times than you had expected
-you look away and run your hands over ur sweats
-maybe it was a little embarassing to not be good at something
-and you can’t really articulate how your brain literally just shuts off as soon as your professor opens his mouth you literally can’t help it
-and there is no way you’re saying that out loud, so
-“it’s hard out here.” you say with a shrug
-he scoffs and pushes your paper towards you, using his pencil to point out for you,
“for number sixteen, you drew a little frog with a wizard hat, are you like, even trying to pass?”
-he goes to point more out but you cannot bear to listen to this smug geek any longer
- “you think i don’t know this shit’s wrong? do you genuinely believe that i actually thought 69 was the correct answer for five questions in a row?”
you snag the old exam off of the table, flipping it back to the front page.
“I know it’s fuckin’ wrong. i didn’t come here to be told what im doing wrong. i came here to be shown how to do it right. so why don’t you stop wasting the time my tuition is fuckin’paying for.”
-he pulls out all of your exams from the course so far and suggested to start with what you’re not familiar with
-and after flipping through all of them you admit you don’t have a damn clue about what’s going on in this class, laughing a little bit at yourself
- “literally, how?” how he asked, incredulous
- “dude, last class was literally like, the…” you take a moment and count on your fingers and his fucking jaw drops lol,
“… fifth? class i’ve been to this semester”
-and he thinks you’re fucking insane, why are we not panicking?
-he’s lowkey panicking for you
-you get a little uncomfortable with how long the pause is
-and you’re giving him a mean look and
“look, if you wanna *pass*, we’re gonna have to lock the fuck in. i don’t even want to promise you ten points above.”
-and he rolls his eyes and pulls up shit for the first unit and gives you the gist of it before giving you a practice problems he expected to be working on for the rest of the session
-you two quickly figure out that your problems consist of: a) iphone and b)nap time
-he looks down at the third correct sheet of practice problems and runs his a hand down his face
- “so it’s looking like your problem is literally just showing up and paying attention, because you’re getting it.”
-across from him, you slump in your chair with a forlorn sigh
-part of you was banking on it being a hopeless case so you could give up and never show face again
-BUT, the plan is to continue your study sessions together so you can catch up for the cumulative final
-j suggests u sit next to him in class, so you can whisper questions and he can make sure you actually pay attention
-which is literally going to be the fucking death of him
-because you show up literally right as class starts and shuffle past the other people in his row without apology before plopping next to him and pulling the same stunt with your bag that you did in the library
-and you smell sososo good, freshly showered after morning drills, so every time you shift he gets a waft of all of the nice smelling products u use
-and your hair is fluffy and freshly towel dried and ur nose is a little red from the brutally cold walk over
-he distracts himself but looking at the notebook you seem to be very intently scribbling on
-and sees u haven’t used the fucking thing since september
-and you’re not even taking *notes*
-just little doodles up and down the margin, little animals and hearts and random squiggles
-which is arguably, adorable
-you flinch when he taps his pencil on your desk and gives you a pointed look, which you return with a sheepish smile
-maybe instead of whispering to him you write little notes back and forth, the both of your handwriting filling the page
-he has to stop himself from laughing at some of your almost incomprehensible scribbles
‘he’s literally the baldest man i’ve ever seen’
‘and i can’t see with the glare from his bald head blinding me’
he brings a hand up to try to wipe the smile off his face
-he’ll occasionally snag your notebook to correct you and you don’t make a fuss like he expects, just taking it back to see what he wrote and nodding
-maybe he starts bringing an extra coffee from the dining hall
-you guys come across a topic you’re having a particularly hard time with but it’s like one of the one days you two aren’t meeting bc you have practice
-so he offers to stop by and drop off some practice sheets, you tell him to just shove em in your bag, you’ll leave it in the bleachers so he won’t have to go into the locker room
-so obvi when he comes in he sees u
-bad maybe you’re embarrassingly sweaty bc coach just made u skat suicides bc he’s the devil
-and you’re sitting on the bench with ur teammates and squeeze some water from ur fancy squeezy bottle on ur face at a desperate attempt to cool down
-and the door to the rink opens and all of ur teammates heads whip over
-and ur eyes go wide and you catch his eyes
-ofc the first thing he looks for is u
-you look away, pretending not to notice the teasing looks the other players are giving you
“is that your boyyfriend?”
“i fucking KNEW you were into nerds.”
“does the facial hair do it for you? its kinda doing it for me…”
-you land a particularly hard punch on your teammate’s shoulder for that one, before glancing over to see if j had been able to find your backpack
-and it seems like he didn’t even try, because he’s making a beeline for you
-he couldn’t help himself, he’s like a fucking sleeper agent, the minute he sees you he’s drawn in like a moth to a flame
-your brows pinch together and you get up to skate to meet him half way, ignoring the quiet giggling and whistling coming from your teammates
-and he sees you coming over and oh god oh fukc
-you come to a sudden halt in front of him, maybe showing off a little with a snow plow stop (hehehe)
-and with the combination of the added height of ur skates and the ice under you, he kind of has to crane his neck up to look at you
-and he *knows* his face is getting red and his mouth is hanging open dumbly, whatever he was about to say dying on in his throat
- “Hey.” you start, still a little out of breath
-he grips the papers hard enough that they crunch in his grip
“You- uh, Hi. Here.” he thrusts the crumbled papers at you and you look from them to him with a strange look that morphs into a little smirk
“My bag is over there”, you use your stick to motion in the direction of where it should be, “like i told you it would be.”
“Right, shit. my bad.” he has to wrench his eyes away from u and he can hear your little huffy laugh
-He turns to walk away with an embarrassed shake of his head, grumbling to himself when he opens ur bag to find protein bar wrappers, crumbled papers, and all of the worksheets you’ve given him, completed (he notes with a little cheesy smile)
-he moved to put them in your bag as neatly as possible, and jumps out of his skin when he hears your voice again
he flinches and looks over his shoulder to see you hanging over the barrier, looking for his attention
“I’ll see you around? I don’t think I can do those ones by myself…” you admit with a laugh
“Sure! Yeah, I’ll see you…” he looks down at his stupid electronic watch so he doesn’t combust from holding eye contact for too long, “Tomorrow!”
“Tomorrow?” you repeat, your brows coming together and your mouth opens like you’re about to say something else but coach blows the whistle and it snaps shut when you whip your head back to see your teammates getting back on the ice,
“Tomorrow.” you agree, straightening back up and headed back over to your team, calling a quick “Later!” over ur shoulder
“Later..” he repeats, a little quieter, with an awkward wave that he’s glad you didn’t see
-and you’re glad he doesn’t see the way your teammates descend upon you, punching your arm, grabbing ur shoulders and shaking them, all teasing
-he can’t help but glance over his shoulder as he pushes the door open, finding your face in the crowd, and his eyes go wide upon seeing you looking right back with a lil smile before grabbing one of ur teammate’s face masks and using it as leverage to push her away
okay, i’ve established u guys r in love, HEADCANON TIME YIPPEE
-over time he learns that you are Praise Motivated, perking up when he goes into what you do right
-blushing with an uncharacteristically shy smile when he tells you did a good job, or that he’s impressed/proud of you
-u giving him ur jersey and insisting he wears it to ur next game and he’s a little confused but also very flattered
-he’d never been on the,,, receiving end before so he doesn’t really know how to act
-still shows up at ur next game wearing it, a little shy but nobody pays him any mind
-when you come on the ice he watches you scan the crowd before finding him, you don’t acknowledge him with anything other than a little smile to yourself and a nod
-just making sure his eyes are on you
-very quietly and intently watches the game, a little nervy abt cheering bc he came on his own, but he’s on his feet and shouting when he sees a player from the other team shove you
-excited cheering when you body check the fuck out of the same chick, pinning her to the plexiglass for the audience to see
-god he wishes that was him
-teaching him how to skate and he is So Bad, you end up pushing him around the ice on a crate
-texting him to meet u outside the locker room after ur practice so the two of u can grab dinner and cram for the midterm tomorrow morning
J (hot nerd from class): i’m not at ur beck and call 🙄
🏒: bc i can ask somebody else who will
J (hot nerd from class) : i’ll kill you
-sharing fries that end up on the ground rather than in your tummies bc you end up throwing them at each other
-watching you DESTROY a burger, ravenous after ur game, with a lil smile
-going to his dorm after practice with the intention of studying but you end up just falling asleep on his twin size bed while he types away at his desk
“Jesus, would you chill? You’re literally punishing those fucking keys.”
-waking up to the sun filtering through the window and pressed up against the wall by the large, warm mass behind you and a heavy arm wrapped around ur torso (maybe a hand sneaking under the hem of ur shirt)
-you sit up and he grumbles, shifting to accommodate your new position, nuzzling his head into the side of your thigh now that you’re seated upright, rather than in the crook of your neck the way it was when you were both horizontal
-you run an apologetic hand through his hair and he releases a deep sigh, hand coming out to pull you closer
-but u catch a glimpse of the digital alarm clock and a sharp gasp and OH FUCK
-you are ACTIVELY MISSING MORNING DRILLS
-and coach WILL have your ASS
-you hurtle yourself out of bed, bringing him to the floor with you and he awakens with a shout as he falls from the raised twin xl
-he’s rubbing his eyes and groans as you frantically pull on your clothes for practice and gather your things
-you’re about to leave but you pause in the doorway and turn to face him
-he’s dragged himself off the floor and is standing in the middle of the room, sleepily glaring at u
-you turn and grab the collar of his shirt to pull him into a quick kiss
-bc u know if it’s any longer than you’ll be lulled back in bc he’s still so warm from being asleep and his hair is all messy and he’s looking down at u with bleary eyes and all he wants is to drag ur ass back to bed with him
-but you push away before he has the chance to lock you in and scamper out the door
-getting all dressed up for team banquets together, he’s flustered as all hell because he only really sees you in your gear or dressed like adam sandler
-you’re already a little shyer than usual, feeling out or ur element, and it brutally clashes with how sth about u in a dress has made your usually reserved bf (who is dressed in a very sharp suit) very handsy
-snapping ur fingers to break him out of it when u catching him staring for too long
-blushing when instead of being guilty for getting caught he gives you a cheesy grin and squeezes ur waist
he leans down to mutter in your ear
“don’t know what else you expected, doll, you know i can’t help myself when it comes to you.”
-smacking his chest with a huff and stalking off
-does not help ur case, bc as much as he hates to see u leave good LORDT he loves to watch u go
-during off season u make him come to the gym with u, even if it’s just to watch
-u blame it on needing a spotter but u and him both know it’s only bc u think the way he goes bright red while he watches u bend over in front of him to pick up weights is v funny
-but there’s nothing like u after a game
-still in ur gear, flushed with sweat sticking ur hair to ur forehead, a lil bloody from when your lip was cut by ur teeth after catching a stray while you were trying to separate your teammate from a player on the opposing team
-him rushing the ice along with the other spectators when u win the game
-and you’re wiping gatorade out of your eyes, pushing away the excited hands of your teammates while your eyes scan the ice, looking for him
-and he’s waiting for u on the outskirts of the crowd with a bouquet of crushed flowers and an ecstatic grin
-you have an elated smile of your own, interrupting his congratulations by grabbing the front of his hoodie and pulling him in hard enough for a kiss that your teeth click, still a little rough with the adrenaline of the game
-and it tastes like gatorade and iron and sweat and *you*
-‘nd he smiles and pushes into it
alright that’s all i have for u folks. if you’ve made it this far, ty. i’m taking requests btw
