henry turner wasn’t the kind of person to be described as brutal.

he was quite the opposite, in fact. before games he’d bring you flowers or little pieces of art, he’d take you on fancy and cozy dates, he’d do anything to make you happy. while he often lacked a filter when speaking (a trait many of his teammates groaned about but secretly appreciated), he was a sweet guy overall.

unless he was on the ice.

sitting in the cold stadium, watching him skate across the ice, you were rather shocked.

he moved with a brutal efficiency, as good as body slamming players and hitting the puck rather ruthlessly.

it was a sharp contrast from the way he sweetly smiled at you when he skated past the plexiglass you sat behind.

and honestly? kind of a turn on.