TMD; The Mighty Ducks; Preferences and Imagines

𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕- ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕤; 𝕃𝕦𝕚𝕤 𝕄𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕫𝕒

𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪: Bennyishot30

𝕒/𝕟: 𝕚 𝕒𝕞 𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕩 𝕦𝕡. 𝕚 𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕠 𝕥𝕨𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕀 𝕘𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕀 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕞𝕚𝕩𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕦𝕡. 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕚 𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕕.

The locker room was dead silent.

No one wanted to talk. No one wanted to look at each other. The sting of the loss was too fresh, too raw. I sat on the bench, still in my gear, my head buried in my hands. The final buzzer was still ringing in my ears, taunting me. We had fought so hard, and for what? To come up short? Again?

I clenched my jaw, trying to swallow the lump forming in my throat. I refused to cry over a game, no matter how bad this loss stung.

Luis was waiting for me outside the rink. He knew better than to say anything right away. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, watching as I trudged toward him.

The second I reached him, he opened his arms. I hesitated for only a second before stepping into them, pressing my forehead against his chest. He smelled like home—clean laundry, a hint of cologne, and something that was just him.

He held me tight, his chin resting on top of my head. "Tough game, huh?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "That's one way to put it."

Luis sighed, rubbing slow circles on my back. "You played great, Chloe."

I shook my head. "Doesn't matter. We lost."

"So what?" He pulled back slightly, tilting my chin up so I had to look at him. His dark eyes were filled with nothing but warmth. "A loss doesn't erase everything else you've done. One game doesn't define you."

I exhaled sharply. "I just—I feel like I let everyone down."

Luis's expression softened. "You didn't. I watched that game, and you fought like hell out there. You gave it everything."

"Didn't feel like enough."

"Chloe." His voice was firm, but gentle. "It was. You're always enough."

I swallowed hard, looking away. "I just hate losing."

"I know." He smirked. "You get that from your brother."

I rolled my eyes. "God, don't remind me."

Luis chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Listen, we can stand out here all night, or we can go home, eat junk food, and pretend this never happened."

I huffed. "Tempting."

"And," he added, "I might even let you pick the movie."

I arched a brow. "Even if I pick something you hate?"

He groaned but nodded. "Even then."

A small smile crept onto my face. "Okay. But I'm holding you to that."

Luis grinned. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

As we walked to his car, I realized something. The loss still hurt, but with him by my side, it didn't feel so heavy anymore.

When we got home, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the couch. Luis disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a bag of chips and two sodas, tossing one to me.

"You okay?" he asked, sitting beside me.

I shrugged, taking a sip of my drink. "Better. Just exhausted."

Luis draped an arm around my shoulders. "Then sleep. I'll be right here."

I curled into him, letting the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing lull me into comfort. The last thing I remembered before drifting off was the feeling of his fingers gently tracing patterns on my arm and the soft sound of him whispering, "Proud of you, Chloe."