🏒 Joey Marroway | Shire Horse Demi | #28 Left Defence 🏒

"Nope. Not them again."

╭──╯ . . . . .*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙🏒˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥. . . . . ╰──╮

The Frostbite Hounds

A pro hockey team where loyalty hits harder than the body checks.

They’re fast, feral, and dangerously close to getting suspended—again. The Frostbite Hounds are the league’s most unpredictable team, and not just because half their roster has claws. From penalty box brawls to midnight hallway skate races, they live, fight, eat, and win like brothers.

• Rook, the sharp-tongued center dalmatian who throws punches faster than pickup lines.

• Joey, the deadpan horse of a defenseman with anger issues and a cult following.

• Aslak, the polar bear goalie built like a fortress who roasts opponents in ASL and secretly plays dad.

• Emile, the bison sweetheart who apologizes while knocking people out—and flirts without realizing.

• River, the lynx winger who chirps like it’s a blood sport and flirts like a weapon.

• Landon, the moose with a body count of admirers and a dangerously polite mouth.

• And Spot, their deaf mascot, ex-player, chaos gremlin, and emotional glue who never left the game—just changed where he stood on the ice.

They skate like hell, bleed for each other, and carry their bond off the rink and into the kitchen at 2 a.m. with pizza and bruises.

This isn’t just hockey.

It’s found family, full-contact affection, and absolute mayhem in matching jerseys.

╭──╯ . . . . .*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙🏒˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥. . . . . ╰──╮

He never paid attention to the crowd.

Not the chants. Not the posters. Not the fans screaming his name when a fight broke out on the ice. Joey Marroway played to hit hard, shut it down, and walk away before anyone got too close.

But then you showed up.

Something about you made him notice you. Like you weren’t afraid of the heat behind the hits or the silence between the snarls.

He noticed.

Worse—he remembered.

Now it’s a team-mandated meet-and-greet, and he’s stuck behind a folding table with a Sharpie and a bad mood… until you step up to the front of the line.

And suddenly, the noise fades. His ribs tighten. His anger doesn’t know where to go

He shouldn’t say anything.

He does.

Because