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Oook for the hockey asks, 5, 11 and 18!
5. favourite hockey best friends (”best friends”)
11. favourite jersey style
18. favourite overrated hockey player
I read an article once that called my husband Mr. Kevin Hayes overrated (???) so let’s go with him.
Hello! Your art is wonderful! What are you working on at the moment? 😊
hey thanks so much! right now i have about 40 or so hockey wips im planning on finishing but havent actually touched in over 3 weeks because i hit an art block. sad about it but thats just how it goes for me.. i go through long dry spells and then afterwards get motivated to draw in quantities that frankly shock me
20 - for the asks!
20: what something that immediately makes you exit out of a fic?
Well, it used to be mpreg but this fandom broke me of that taboo along with a/b/o 😂😂
I'm pretty open-minded when it comes to fic but I will nope out of a fic that's super violent.
For the kissing prompts - 3, “goodbye” 😊
Thank you!!! This one went somewhere a bit unexpected. Oops. Hope you like it!
Louis wanted so desperately to know his name. But that defeated the whole point, didn’t it? That’s what the masks were for, to hide who they were. And if Louis asked, then the stranger would probably ask right back. And Louis wasn’t ready for that.
Louis tightened his hold on the man.
In response, the man titled his head, smirked, like he knew what he was doing to Louis.
The music kept playing, and they kept dancing.
Other couples bumped into them, a mess of elbows and shoulders and feet. Louis felt protective; this man was his. He couldn’t let him get hurt, and didn’t want others to have a right to his body. It was irrational, but the man’s smell, his aura, his everything seemed to already belong to Louis. Louis hated himself, but he subtly moved them into a less populated corner, where Louis could pretend that he had the illusion of privacy. The man danced closer, pressed against Louis. He smelled divine.
Louis started salivating at the thought of taking him home. There was going to be a loneliness there, if the man didn’t return with him.
They talked idly—Louis was still afraid of saying too much, of scaring off the first person ever who’s Louis’ body has responded to. Mate. Mate. Mate. He could feel it down to his bones.
There was a pressure to being The Alpha’s mate. Louis didn’t want to subject anyone to that, hence the need for the ball, the mystery. The hope that a mate would be found without the added pressure of sycophants or the opposite, those who would avoid Louis based on the added scrutiny.
The man’s voice was deep, and he spoke slowly, as though they had all night. Most people were clipped, straight to the point, not wasting Louis’ time, but this one meandered and paused and Louis was hooked, waiting patiently for the next verbalized thought.
While he waited, he took in the sharp jawline, the cute bunny teeth and dimples when he smiled, the patchy mustache. His light eyes. Despite the mask, Louis knew he was gorgeous. He knew he wanted to call into bed with this man every night, curl up against him and talk for hours, with nothing but the moonlight illuminating his features. They’d have to drag him out of bed in the morning.
The night wore on, and Louis wanted to dance with no one else. He occasionally caught his mother’s eye, and she looked more settled every time that he turned someone else away. Louis preened every time that the man turned someone else away.
Despite being The Alpha, Louis wasn’t used to the fancy tuxedo and polished shoes. His toes were pinched and there was a blister forming on his heel, but it would take a lot more for Louis to want to end the night.
He held the man in his arms. The man tucked his head onto Louis’ shoulder, and Louis held him up with sure hands. He’d never let anything happen to him. Louis stuck his nose into the man’s wild curls, and he smelled like home. It was impossible, but true.
By the time the DJ announced that she was playing the last song of the night, most of the dance floor had cleared out, and those couples left were more swaying than dancing. Louis was practically asleep on his feet, more at ease with this stranger than he had been with almost anyone in his whole life. There were a handful of couple who had clearly drank their way through the night; Louis was drunk on infatuation.
The man pulled himself upright as the song came to an end, and looked into Louis’ eyes. “Thank you. This has been the best night ever.”
Louis didn’t want it to end.
The lights came on, and the man blinked, wild and open. “Kiss to remember you by?”
Louis placed a finger on his chin, tilted their faces together, and tried to pour all of his unsaid emotions into the kiss. Gentle at first, then harder, more prying. He wanted to press him against the nearest wall, mark him up, claim him. But it would be improper to do so. The man deserved to know what he was getting into. So Louis gripped him one more time, explored his mouth, tried to convey how much the night meant, then pulled away, breathless.
The man’s eyes were wet when Louis stepped away and licked his lips for one last lingering taste.
And then he was gone. Turned and ran away before Louis could ask him to say and unmask himself.
“Wait,” Louis called after him. “Guards!”
But it was too late. The man was lost to the mass exodus of near identical tuxedos and black dresses, feathered and bejeweled masks.
Louis swore, somehow, he’d find the nameless man again.
It’s been weeks and I’m still thinking about Race Like Falcons, the pining omg, it was so so good. I can never watch a Blackhawks game in the same way again! Are you planning to write any more stromecat?
Ooooh I’m SO glad. So glad our boy Stromer has been doing better lately. :D And YES I am definitely planning to write more Stromecat! I have a fake-dating story I desperately want to write for them right now but I AM NOT because it’s nanowrimo and I am supposed to be writing my wolfverse-translated-to-slightly-post-apocalyptic-Canada novel. But as soon as this thing is done I’m going to write Alex bringing Dylan as a fake boyfriend to his ex’s wedding and Dylan having WAY TOO MANY feelings about it. (Or possibly I will get distracted away and write something totally different. Too many stories to write! But I do not feel done with those two.)
I Post This Kid Too Much
I can't help it though! He's so freaking CUTE.
Bitter: "I'm glad my pain AMUSES you."
:D
