Captain Cold Flash Novels & Stories

“George, Liam craves your cooking.” George’s voice then took over. “Millie, get yourself treated in the meantime. I’ll be there in a bit.” That night, he didn’t show up. The next morning, he sent me a photo of his cooking. “Liam had extra helpings. He’s in better shape. Is your stomach still causing issues?” I stared at the text message for a long time. My response was brief. “No.” Since then, I saved his contact as Captain Tanner. It wasn’t out of spite.

I tried again, louder. “Hey. I’m Lena Hale from the Northcrest Daily. I need to set up an interview with you for a feature.” Cole finally slowed down and glided over. He stopped right in front of me, still on the ice while I stood on the rubber mats. Up close he was even taller than I thought. His eyes were this crazy light blue, almost gray. Cold. He looked at me like I was wasting his time. I waited. He said nothing. “Good communication skills for a captain,” I said, unable to keep the sarcasm out.

He must have felt very embarrassed, especially after bragging and using dirty tricks to take me down. "Under the bright light of today's game, they, Frost Maple, come together at centre ice, breathless, bruised, victorious. Laughter echoes across the rink as the win settles in. This moment is theirs." I pulled away from my team. I looked once more at the stand. Quinn was still not among them. "Tonight belongs to him. Time and again, he finds the net, reading the ice like a master. With the most goals of the game, he stands above the rest and leads his team to victory. He is Grayson Talon, the captain of Frost Maple, the wild wolf."

Lucas was puzzled he couldn't believe he had slept with a total stranger, with his personality and all he found it strang and funny all together. Lucas has a cold personality, he is especially cold mainly to the female gender , thinking back in time, his father Mr Isaac lost his precious wife during childbirth while Lucas lost his mother at a very young age of five . Because of the experience he had to go through and also watching how his father was devastated at that period of time , that was when he said to himself that he wasn't going to have anything to do with the female gender because of fear losing something dear to him.

“Hendrik was right. She’s a doll. That feisty nature... she’s just a cat waiting to be conquered. I’m telling you, that bet is still on. Whoever gets her into the mattress first gets the car.” "What's her name again?" "Harell? Hazel?" Marco’s steps stopped dead in his tracks. The noise around him vanished. His world narrowed into something cold… and razor sharp. He stepped out of the shadows, his hands buried in his pockets, but the sheer tension in his shoulders made the fabric of his suit jacket strain. The two men nearly stumbled into him. They stopped, blinking blearily at the massive, looming figure of the Frost Titans' captain. “Whoa, Ice Boy!” the one with the messy shirt laughed, hol

"Your frame will freeze to death if your boots remain exposed to this rabid wind." "My gratitude," my voice mutters, taking the cup and downing the burning fluid in a single swallow. A sudden warmth spreads through my chest, but the suffocating worry inside my soul remains entirely unquenched. "Have the alternative scout teams reported any discoveries?" The captain rubs his cold hands together, shaking his head with heavy sorrow. "Absolute zero, Alpha. Step inside to rest your frame. My eyes will monitor the binoculars from this station." My head nods in weary agreement as my fingers pass the lens back to his grip. But the exact millisecond my boots take a single step toward the cabin door,

"Stubborn captain. Okay. Together." The man turned into an alley between two old buildings. Snow covered the ground. We followed careful. I whispered. "He stopped. Near the end of the alley." Kade slowed. "I see him. Stay behind me." We approached slow. The man stood under a dim light. He held the sign again. SASHA. Kade called out. "Hey. You. Why that name? Who are you?" The man smiled slow. "Kade Volkov. Nice game tonight. Your brother would be proud."

a reporter called, I felt a hand on my shoulder. “You have got this captain” Martin said, I glanced up at the tall alpha. “Thanks” I said and went up to the reporters, “hello” “Hello,” some answered. “How do you feel about playing against Crimson icehawks? Especially after their captain knocked you out on your last game together?” A female reporter who I perceived is a beta asked, reminding of the last season, several months ago. Crimson icehawks and their damn Captain, Orson Vexley. Orson Vexley is a pompous, arrogant, full of himself bastard.

"Be careful, Eve. He’s a ticking time bomb today." "He’s an asset with declining efficiency metrics," Eve corrected, her voice cool and level. "And right now, his behavior is costing us wins." She didn't wait for Marcus to open the door. She pushed it open herself. Inside, the air was thick. Standing by the window, half-shrouded in the morning light, was Terry Wilde. The undisputed, ruthless captain of the Blizzard. He wore nothing but his hockey pants and a tight, grey compression shirt that clung to the absurdly broad expanse of his shoulders. His knuckles were wrapped in white athletic tape, fresh blood leaking through the fabric.

The flashes came in a continuous, thunderous wave, lighting up the rooftop like a sustained electrical storm, capturing the image that would define the new era: Elias Voss and Noah Hart, hand in hand, undeniable. **POV: Noah** Later, they didn’t return to the penthouse. The penthouse was for hiding, for private moments. This victory demanded a different sanctuary. They returned to their office—*theirs* now—on the top floor of the new building. The moment the heavy oak door swung shut, Noah kicked it closed with his heel, the professional composure shattering. He was already shrugging out of his suit jacket, the adrenaline singing in his veins. “Did you see their faces?” he asked, a laugh bub