#2020 playoffs don’t count

[qhughes43]

the way i can say i’m having fun as a canucks fan for the first time in 22 years

[pbaz7]

AGAINST THE TIDE — PART ONE

paige x azzi

trope: enemies to lovers

warnings: language

word count: 4.3k

A/N: I got a lot of request for an enemies to lovers series so here it is! In this one they both grow up in DC/Virginia to give it a better arc and make it more of a slow burn. I'm also going to experiment with POVs more in this series. This first chapter is pretty much just setting the scene on what's caused them to dislike each other so much. Let me know what you think!

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March 2018 

The gym was alive with the roar of fans, the bleachers packed to the brim as the Washington D.C. Girls Basketball Championship unfolded. The two teams on the court weren’t just competing for a title; they were locked in a battle of pride and supremacy that had been brewing between the schools for years. 

On one side was Gonzaga College High School, led by the blonde, brash point guard Paige Bueckers, the number one player in the class of 2020. Less than 10 miles and a 20-minute drive away was St. John’s College High School, boasting its own star, Azzi Fudd, the number one player in the class of 2021.

The rivalry between their schools ran deep, stemming from heated football clashes that had been going on for decades, but it was quickly spilling over into the girls' basketball programs. Paige made sure of it. She’d been playing with a chip on her shoulder against St. John’s ever since they handed her team a bitter loss in last year’s championship game her freshman year. To her defense, she had been playing on a bum ankle after rushing herself back to help the team in the playoffs, but the sting of the loss had stayed with her. Sp every time she faced St. John’s, Paige was out to prove a point—and tonight was no different.

Azzi, meanwhile, was laser-focused. She didn’t care about last year because she wasn’t there, though she’d heard about it. But what mattered to her was this year, this game and everything going forward. But she couldn’t ignore how insufferable Paige could be. Earlier this season, Gonzaga had handed St. John’s their only loss in conference play, and Paige had been at the center of it, running her mouth the entire game.

“What’s wrong, Fudd? Can’t handle the pressure?” Paige had taunted during their first matchup, grinning as she drained a step-back three. “Don’t worry freshie—I’ll teach you how it’s done.”

Azzi had kept her composure back then as Paige chirped in her ear, but tonight was different. The stakes were higher, the score tied, and Paige was playing like she owned the court.

As Paige brought the ball up the court, her eyes scanned the defense, locking with Azzi’s. That trademark smirk spread across her face.

“Let’s see if you’ve learned anything since last time,” Paige quipped, her voice loud enough for Azzi to hear.

Azzi rolled her eyes, her hands ready, her feet planted. “Maybe you should focus more on scoring then on talking,”

Paige didn’t answer with words; she let her game speak instead. A possession later her quick crossover sent her defender stumbling, and Paige took the opening, driving hard to the rim. Azzi was there in an instant, meeting her midair and forcing her into a tough layup. The ball clanked off the rim, and Azzi grabbed the rebound, her intensity growing.

As she sprinted back down the court, she couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder. “You should really take my advice, Bueckers, that was pretty bad.”

Paige let out a breathy laugh at finally getting some words out of her, jogging to catch up. “Keep talking, Fudd. You’ll see how it ends.”

The game continued at a blistering pace, the two stars going back and forth, each trying to outshine the other and pull their team to a win. The tension on the court mirrored the years of animosity between their schools, the rivalry growing with every possession.

Azzi hit a pull-up jumper over Paige, earning a roar from the St. John’s crowd as she ran back on defense. Paige came right back, threading a no-look pass for an assist and stopping to blow a kiss to the Gonzaga section of the stands.

Every play, every word exchanged, added fuel to the fire.

For Azzi, it wasn’t just about the championship anymore. It was about shutting Paige up, proving that despite what the media said she was the best player in the DMV. For Paige, it was about reclaiming what she felt was hers—revenge for last year and dominance over St. John’s. It didn’t hurt that she was getting some competition going against the ‘best shooter’ in basketball. 

The crowd could feel it: this wasn’t just any game. They were watching two greats go at it and it was rare to see two household talents come from the same area like this. 

The gym pulsed with energy as the clock ticked down in the fourth quarter. Neither team could pull away, and the intensity between Paige and Azzi burned brighter with every possession.

Azzi moved with purpose, slicing through Gonzaga’s defense and rising for what looked like an easy layup. But Paige came out of nowhere, her hand swatting the ball as it went soaring into the crowd with authority.

“Get that weak shit outta here!” Paige yelled as she flexed both arms, the sound carrying over the roar of the crowd.

Azzi landed hard, her jaw tightening as Paige ran past her. 

Azzi didn’t let it faze her. The next possession, she caught the ball on the wing, her defender sagging just enough to give her space. With a quick dribble, she stepped back, rising for a three-pointer that sailed over Paige’s outstretched hand and splashed through the net.

Azzi held her follow-through for a second longer than necessary, then smirked as she turned to face Paige. “You might wanna put a hand up quicker next time.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed, her grin twisting into something more dangerous. Azzi had no idea how much trash talk fueled Paige's game. “Alright, Fudd. You wanna talk shit now? Bet, watch this.”

The next few plays were a blur of brilliance, all led by Paige. She weaved through defenders with ease, hitting a floater over two St. John’s players. On the next possession, she stripped Azzi at midcourt, sprinting ahead for an uncontested finger roll to add a little extra. The Gonzaga fans erupted, sensing the tide was turning  in their favor.

Azzi tried to respond, driving hard into the paint, but Paige was there again, cutting off her angle and forcing a wild layup that missed off the rim.

“Don’t force it, Fudd,” Paige taunted as she grabbed the rebound and passed the ball up the court. “This is my game now.”

Paige called for the ball on the wing, sizing up her defender before nailing a step-back three-pointer that sent the crowd into a frenzy. Gonzaga’s bench jumped to their feet, and Paige being the competitor she is, turned and gave a little shrug to the St. John’s crowd as she put her index finger to her lip showing that she had silenced them.

Azzi clenched her jaw, glaring at the scoreboard as Gonzaga’s lead stretched to eight. She could feel the championship slipping away, and Paige was at the center of it all with a cocky ass smirk.

The final buzzer sounded moments later, sealing Gonzaga’s victory. Paige’s teammates rushed the court, surrounding her as part of the gym erupted in cheers. Paige soaked it all in, her arms raised in triumph, while Azzi stood frozen near midcourt, her hands on her hips.

Azzi’s chest heaved with frustration as she watched Paige celebrate. She hates losing, but losing to Paige made it so much worse for some reason. Paige caught her eye from across the court, giving her a small, smug wave.

The Gonzaga team revealed in their championship victory, while the St. John’s players trudged back to their bench, disappointment etched on their faces.

The teams soon lined up for handshakes, the air between them still a little tense. To the crowd, it was a display of sportsmanship—players exchanging congratulatory words and polite smiles. But when Paige reached Azzi, the energy shifted.

Paige extended her hand, pulling Azzi in close as if to offer words of encouragement. Her voice dropped to a low murmur, just loud enough for Azzi to hear over the noise.

“Get in the gym, Fudd,” Paige said, her lips curving into a smug grin. “That’s what 2-0 now? Better catch up.”

Azzi’s jaw tightened, and her eyes flashed with irritation. Scoffing, she pulled back, brushing her shoulder against Paige’s as she moved past her.

“You’re such a bitch,” Azzi muttered under her breath, not bothering to look back as she continued down the line.

Paige’s grin widened as she watched her Azzi walk away, the satisfaction of the win lingering just a bit longer knowing she proved she was the number one player for a reason today. 

December 2018

The rivalry between Gonzaga and St. John’s had only gotten more competitive in Paige's junior year and Azzi’s sophomore season. Every time these two teams met, the tension between Paige and Azzi electrified the gym as the crowd fed off of each of them.

Once again the gym was packed, the crowd deafening as Gonzaga and St. John’s went back and forth in a high-energy conference matchup. Paige, with her trademark poise and undeniable confidence, was on fire tonight. She was hitting everything — pull-up jumpers, threes from deep, tough finishes at the rim. With each basket, her smirk grew, and the energy around her was palpable.

By the time the fourth quarter rolled around, Gonzaga was clinging to a three-point lead. Paige, however, had already racked up 35 points and was showing no signs of slowing down. As the ball was swung to her on the perimeter, Azzi closed out hard, trying to force Paige to drive, but Paige just gave a sly grin and pulled up for a deep three-pointer as Azzi’s hand was down.

Swish.

The crowd erupted, and Paige didn’t even look at the basket as she turned to Azzi, her smirk widening.

“You might as well put on a Gonzaga jersey, Fudd,” Paige taunted, she jogged backwards to get on defense. “I’m scoring on you every time.”

Azzi’s teeth clenched, her jaw tightening as the frustration started to build. She had already been pushed to her limits with Paige’s relentless trash talk the whole game. So the next time Paige got the ball, Azzi was determined to make a play.

Paige drove past her on the right wing, using her speed and quick handle to get to the basket. Azzi did everything she could to keep up, playing great defense, but Paige made the offense look effortless, finishing with a smooth layup through contact. Paige landed on her feet, staring Azzi down as she straightened up.

“I really should start a clinic,” Paige continued, voice dripping with mock sweetness, “on how to defend me... I’ll give you some pointers after the game if you want.”

Azzi’s temper flared, the words cutting through her like a hot knife. Even the calmest person in the world got a little fed up here and there. She was feeling the heat of Paige’s relentless taunts, and the more Paige scored, the more Azzi’s focus shifted from the game to the battle unfolding between them.

When the ball was passed back to Paige, Azzi moved to cut her off, determined not to let Paige get an easy look this time. But as Paige shifted her body to drive past, Azzi made the mistake of reaching out with a little too much aggression. Her hand caught more of Paige’s arm than the ball as she went up for a shot, sending Paige tumbling to the court with a sharp thud.

The whistle blew immediately. Azzi froze, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn't meant to foul that hard, but the anger that had been building inside her made the contact feel more like a release than a mistake.

As the referee called for the foul, Azzi immediately ran her hands down her face, her face flushed with regret. She hated that she let her emotions get the best of her, especially when it came to a player like Paige. This wasn’t who Azzi was. She was better than this.

Without thinking, Azzi reached down to help Paige up, her voice soft, almost apologetic. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

But before Azzi could finish, Paige yanked her arm away, her face a mask of anger and disbelief.

“Fuck you,” Paige spat, pushing herself off the floor and standing to her full height. She didn’t look at Azzi, her eyes cold and distant, filled with a harsher fire than what Paige usually plays with.

Azzi stood frozen, the sting of Paige’s words cutting deeper than she expected them to. But she deserves it so she took it in stride. The gym felt like it was holding its breath as the physicality increased, but Azzi didn’t want to dwell on the exchange. She turned away from Paige, heading back to her position as the crowd buzzed with tension.

The game continued, and though Azzi fought to keep her head in the game, it was clear the emotional toll was taking its toll on her. Paige, on the other hand, was unstoppable. She drained another three, her confidence soaring. Gonzaga was up by five, then eight. The scoreboard ticked down, and every time Paige had the ball, it felt like another dagger.

With under a minute left, Paige hit another step-back three, this one over Azzi’s outstretched hand, and it was clear the game was over. The gym erupted as the buzzer sounded — Gonzaga had won 78-66, and Paige had just set a career-high.

As the players lined up for handshakes, Paige felt the weight of the win settle in. But she didn’t feel any empathy for Azzi. No pity. No remorse. The girl couldn’t even handle a little trash talk without purposefully fouling. Paige knew she had silenced the noise, the trash talk, and everything else with a performance that couldn’t be denied by anyone who watched the game.

When she reached Azzi in the handshake line, she extended her hand, but it was more of a formality than anything else. Paige leaned in just enough to murmur, loud enough for Azzi to hear, “Maybe next time you’ll get closer if you don’t piss me off.”

Azzi’s eyes flashed, her entire body tensing as she forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Bueckers,” she muttered, brushing past Paige without another word as she continued down the line.

Paige watched her go, the sense of satisfaction lingering, and though she didn’t say anything, she knew Azzi wouldn’t forget this game.

…

Azzi adjusted the strap of her bag, her knee still a little sore as she limped out of the locker room with Ice packs wrapped on her leg. The sting of the loss was fresh, and the energy in the hallway was a mix of chaos and adrenaline. Reporters lingered around the halls, their voices carrying snippets of postgame chatter as they jostled to capture every quote.

Azzi tried to tune it out, focusing on getting to the bus. She was already replaying the game in her mind, agonizing over missed shots and what-ifs. But as she passed the press conference room, a question snagged her attention.

“Paige, what was it like playing in such a competitive matchup with someone who’s also considered one of the top players in DC if not the entire nation?”

Azzi slowed, her ears pricking at the mention of her name—or, at least, the implication of it. She paused just out of sight, listening.

There was a brief pause, then Paige’s voice cut through the chatter. Calm, confident, and just loud enough for Azzi to hear.

“I always love a competitive matchup,” Paige said, her tone light but unmistakably self-assured. “Games like that are what make basketball fun. It’s why I play. I love when there’s passion in the game like that.”

Azzi felt her shoulders relax slightly. That wasn’t so bad.

But then Paige kept going.

“That being said, I think I showed everyone why I’m the number one player in D.C. tonight and my team was able to come out with the win.”

The words hung in the air, and Azzi’s jaw tightened. Paige’s voice had an edge to it—a playful jab, but one that landed a little too close to home.

Gripping the strap of her bag tighter, Azzi moved down the hallway. She wasn’t going to let Paige’s words get to her, but damn if they didn’t light a fire under her for the next time they met. 

March 2019

St. John’s and Gonzaga met once again in the championship game and honestly to Paige and Azzi it felt like deja vu. To everyone else watching this was the matchup they had grown to anticipate. The two guards always putting on a show. It wasn’t just about the title anymore; it was personal. Paige and Azzi both had more to prove than anyone on the court.

Azzi, standing tall at the top of the game and undeniably one of the best in the country, wasn’t about to let herself walk away with an 0-4 record against the cocky blonde. She’d been putting in the work all season, and despite the gnawing frustration of those past losses, she was determined to make this game different. But there was also something else driving her — the weight of being named Gatorade’s National Girls Basketball Player of the Year, as a sophomore. The title had earned her respect across the nation, but not in Paige’s eyes.

For Paige, that honor felt like a slap in the face. She had dominated the court all year, and everyone knew she was the best in her class and had beaten Azzi already this season. For Azzi to get that recognition before her, it stung more than Paige would care to admit to anyone. It was the kind of fire that pushed her to fight harder, to prove that no sophomore was going to overshadow her. She had something to prove — not just to Azzi, but to herself.

As the game tipped off, it was clear that neither of them had any intention of holding back. Azzi, with her perfect shot and effortless off ball movement, seemed to hit shots that defied logic. A step-back three from the corner with a hand in her face? Swish. A deep three from the logo, well beyond NBA range? No problem. The crowd erupted every time her shot dropped, but Paige wasn’t about to let Azzi get too comfortable.

On the other end of the floor, Paige was doing her thing: a mixture of quick ball-handling, aggressive drives to the basket, and, of course, her signature flashy layups that got the crowd involved. One of them, a twisting, acrobatic finish through a crowd of defenders, had the crowd gasping in awe. She flashed a grin as she jogged back on defense, eyes locked on Azzi, who was already making her way down the court.

“You’re not gonna be able to keep up again, Fudd,” Paige taunted, her voice loud enough for Azzi to hear as she took her position. “This is my game, you’re just along for the ride.”

Azzi smirked, not breaking her focus as she got into her shooting stance. “We’ll see when this game’s over,” she shot back, her confidence unwavering.

The back-and-forth continued like that throughout the first half, neither player willing to back down. Every time Paige hit a flashy layup, Azzi came back with a deep three. Every time Azzi sank another impossible shot, Paige answered with a smooth jump shot of her own. The crowd was on its feet the entire time, watching two of the most talented players in the nation go toe-to-toe, each one refusing to give an inch.

But as the game wore on, the pressure started to mount. With the score neck-and-neck, the trash talk grew sharper, each jab cutting deeper. Azzi, with a quick hesitation move, crossed Paige up and drilled another three in her face. The crowd went wild as Azzi celebrated, but it was the words that followed that set Paige off.

“I guess that Gatorade Player of the Year really means something, huh?” Azzi quipped, her smile wide and taunting. “I think I earned that one, Bueckers.”

The words hit Paige like a punch to the gut. That recognition — the one that had bothered her for weeks — was now in Azzi’s hands, and the realization that Azzi had just used it against her was too much to handle.

Paige’s eyes narrowed, the fire inside her intensifying.

“Keep talking, man,” Paige snarled, voice low.

The rest of the game continued and Azzi seemed to be in complete control, hitting another deep three in Paige's face and then hitting a step-back jumper that had the crowd roaring. Paige tried to respond, but something in her game was off — whether it was Azzi’s defense or the mounting frustration of the game and the award Azzi had rubbed in her face, she couldn’t find her rhythm anymore.

With the game winding down, St. John’s had gained a slight but undeniable lead. Paige’s shots weren’t falling as easily as they had earlier, and Azzi wasn’t letting up. Each time Paige tried to make a play, Azzi was right there, forcing her to pass or making her take tough looks.

Finally, with just seconds left, Azzi hit another clutch three, sealing the game for St. John’s and finally giving her a win over Paige. The buzzer went off, and Azzi’s team erupted in celebration, the crowd going wild. Paige, on the other hand, stood frozen for a moment, her chest heaving as the weight of the loss hit her a little harder than it did her freshman year.

As the teams lined up for the post-game handshake, Azzi walked toward Paige, her smile wide with triumph. When they shook hands, Azzi didn’t hold back.

“Guess it’s 1-1 when it counts, huh? Looks like POTY went to the right player after all,” Azzi said, the words dripping with satisfaction.

Paige’s heart felt like it sank to her stomach. The Gatorade loss had already stung, but now Azzi was rubbing salt in the wound. Still, Paige held her composure, her eyes narrowing as she shook Azzi’s hand.

“Congratulations,” Paige muttered, forcing a smile. Paige hated losing but she wasn’t a sore loser. 

But Azzi wasn’t done. As she walked past Paige, she threw in one final jab.

“Maybe you’ll get it next year.” Azzi’s tone was sweet, but the smirk on her face said it all.

Paige watched Azzi go, her jaw clenched tightly. She wanted to say something, anything, to retort, but she knew the damage had already been done. Azzi had gotten her win — and the bragging rights. For now, Paige would have to swallow this defeat and figure out how to come back stronger and take the jabs that were coming her way. 

July 2019 - Azzi POV

I was on top of the world. After winning the championship and being named the Gatorade National Girls Basketball Player of the Year, I felt like nothing could stop me. Playing in the US Under 18 3x3 Tournament was everything I’d worked for, and I was thriving out there. Every move I made felt perfect, every shot dropping like it was scripted. The crowd was eating it up, and I was feeding off the energy.

But just like that, everything changed.

I was driving to the hoop, sizing up my defender, already thinking ahead to my next move to get past them. My first step was quick, explosive like always — exactly how I’d practiced it a thousand times. I planted my foot to make a sharp cut, my body flowing into the motion like it was second nature. But then… something snapped.

It wasn’t the sound of my foot hitting the court. It was a horrible, sickening pop that shot through my leg like it had been on fire. For a split second, everything froze, and I just knew.

My knee. It wasn’t supposed to buckle like that. I didn’t even have time to scream as the pain hit, like a burning wave spreading from my knee up my leg, down to my toes, into my core. I collapsed instantly, my hands going straight to my knee, trying to hold it together as if somehow that would stop the agony.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I couldn’t focus on anything except that searing pain.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, my voice cracking as I tried to breathe through it, my hands gripping my knee as if I could will the pain away. But it only intensified.

I couldn’t move. Every attempt to shift only made it worse. It was like my entire leg was on fire. I barely heard my teammates rushing to my side, their voices muffled as if I was underwater. All I could think was, This isn’t just a twist. This isn’t something I can shake off.

I knew it — deep down, I knew something was wrong. My knee felt swollen already, pulsing with heat. The pop I heard didn’t sound good. Please, please don’t be serious, I thought, even though I knew better. 

“Azzi, what hurts,” my coach said, kneeling beside me, but I barely registered it. All I could think about was how unfair this was. I was supposed to be dominating, supposed to keep riding this wave of success. I was invincible, damn it.

But now, here I was, on the ground, clutching my knee like it was my lifeline — and I had no idea what was next.

The pain started to build, and my mind raced. ACL? No, MCL? My head spun with all the worst-case scenarios. This wasn’t how I imagined this tournament going. This wasn’t how I’d imagined anything going this summer.

My chest tightened as I sat there, trying not to lose it in front of everyone. I didn’t want to break down, didn’t want to show them how scared I was. But I could feel the tears threatening to spill. I wiped them away, blinking rapidly, but it didn’t matter. My body was shaking.

I just wanted to be back on the court. I wanted to keep proving myself, keep pushing. But in that moment, all I could do was sit there and hold my knee, hoping like hell this wasn’t the end.

[puckpocketed]

inspired by yesterday’s ovechkin-posting and the stick story, because. i had as much fun as anyone with the idea that riding a camel over all-star break is what jostled the goal-scoring back out of him, but at the same time... i am frothing at the fucking mouth about ovi × The League × national hockey media. where is his respect? where is his hype? where are his roses???? please !!!! understand !!!! that i find sidney endearing as a guy and he is undeniably incredible as a player and he deserves the love that he gets. but from day one, ovi has only existed to them in relation to sid and that makes me lose my fucking mind. 

and general hockey fans through the years loved ovi, and then they hated him, and then they said he was an overhyped washed-up old man who doesn't care anymore (starting in like 2013 lmfao). like, I'M sorry, back in the late '00s and early '10s he was being hounded for days about his cellies, and being booed every time he came out on the ice—and you're mad? that he looks like he's lost his love and enthusiasm for the game???? (i cannot for the LIFE of me find the podcast ep where i heard this, so. grain of salt. but a former teammate talked about how startling and upsetting ovi found the booing, bc it was such a sudden change, and meanwhile, ovi was just the same guy he’d always been 😭).

and then, idk, we went through hate again, and then indifference, and now in the 2020s we're back to "oh, his production has dropped so therefore he's overhyped, can’t wait ‘til he’s gone"?? the season ovi was 36 he had more points per game than sid did last year at 36 (90 in 77 vs 94 in 82). or how about. please remind me how many goals gretz scored the season he was 36 (25 goals compared to ovi's 50). or what about when gretz was 38 (9 goals compared to ovi's 31)? i am NOT trying to say that ovi is "better" than either of them—this is just me saying that people are completely irrational about him. like back when he was drafted and people were saying "oh, he's not actually as good as he looks, because he's lying about his age" bc he looked 25 instead of 18. like. okay lmao. and then what? his NINE rocket richards count less bc he started later? he's actually older now and scoring more per game than gordie howe was the first time he retired? like what are we doing here??? i'm not an empty-netters-pod guy, but they talked about it in the first few minutes of this ep; like... yeah, why was everyone so fucking excited to dance on his grave at the start of last season? and then again in the playoffs? he’s NOT DONE YET, and even if he were, i would hope to see a modicum of respect for the player he’s been and the career he’s had! 

the point is. ovi has scored 30+ goals per season every single year since his debut except the pandemic-shortened season. his teammates, current and former, love him and say what an awesome, generous, team-focused guy he is. he has literally dozens of nhl records already, some of them previously belonging to gretzky. and yet! general hockey fans and the league and national hockey media all refuse to take him seriously. and caps fans (mostly) and dc hockey media (mostly) (barry svrlugas i do not forgive you... dan holmi i would just like to have a fucking word with you....) are all just standing here like hello? alexander ovechkin is RIGHT HERE and he is very good at hockey. hello he is GOOD at HOCKEY, can you hear me????? is anyone seeing this, HELLO???? 

i don’t get it. i simply and entirely don’t get it. there are so many excellent players on teams that i hate! there are players i dislike and i can still point to many impressive things about their game!!! WHAT is the mental block that happens for everyone when it comes to ovi, and how tf has it been going strong for nineteen fucking years? 

thank you for listening!! i swear to you that the vast majority of the time i am simply having a fun time with whatever my terrible children decide to do, admiring ovi’s fashion choices, cheering on my number one babygirl dylan strome, and enjoying whatever horny, incomprehensible nonsense they get up to. it’s just that sometimes i gotta go guard dog mode about alex ovechkin 😅

Hello!!! First of all, thanks for going to all the trouble of typing all that out and including links. I have loved sifting through your citations, and felt very much like a floor dwelling sea creature eating nutrients from the silt <3

I believe you all when you say Ovechkin's not done yet. Shaking my entire clenched fin at everyone calling him a washed up old man!! Fascinated by the Caps' attempt to pivot into being competitive long enough for him to break the record, because what of the After? The Rebuild of Damocles beckons!! Except, having paid some attention to prospects I see they've got a pretty interesting crop of talent coming through. And there are those big contracts they just acquired (hello Dubie and Roy). I just feel like have to be on this train so I can say I was there to see how it all shakes out. History Witnessing type beat <3

and I'm SO endeared to Caps rituals. What little I've seen of them is so fun, so silly. Exactly my vibe. MUST a team "Play Hockey Well"?? can't they just be obsessed with each other . can't they torture and embarrass each other . being stressed about strange concepts such as ""Winning"" is so., passé .

Thank you again for dropping by and for the essay! and I'm sorry it took so long to get back to you, it was such a meal I was digesting it for days :>

extended thoughts/discussion under the cut.

From the outside looking in, I think can speak to how compelling it is to pit Crosby and Ovechkin against each other. As your ESPN article puts it: "Crosby was careful, corporate. Ovechkin was unpredictable, borderline dangerous. The key word was passion, and even though Crosby had it inside, Ovechkin oozed it. He was the anti-Sid, possibly the better player, and soon a cult hero." (x, y) I know you're frustrated by this, but they do sort of exist in relation to each other. Maybe I've fallen for the propaganda, but it's very literary <3 You could write their story down and present it to a novel studies class, and the easiest thread to pull on would be all the ways in which they're each other's narrative foils.

IF you held a gun to my head and made me guess at the 'why' of it, I'd probably agree with Eric Adelson! It really does feel like Crosby's image is who hockey wants to be seen as. A Good Canadian Boy; humble, no conspicuous expressions of his wealth, no partying, and of course no on-ice flash! I think I can understand the backlash somewhat; in such a team-oriented game, one with all these arcane honour codes and the emphasis on humility and respect and not rocking the boat, I could see why the spectacle of Ovechkin's personality would've grated. Crosby's an easier pill to swallow for the conservatism of hockey culture. (And I specified 'image' because there's the reality of what it is to be famous, deified, and torn apart each time you don't quite measure up. I hate to be the guy who says there's another side to this but, like, I'm sure plenty of people who are more familiar with Crosby's story could come out and tell me about the unique challenges that come with being considered The Next One.)

And obviously, your specific frustration is coming from the fact that Ovechkin is, somehow, seen as the inferior superstar, and that his achievements - which either equal or surpass Crosby's - go uncelebrated by mainstream media. and ough. man. I'm not as invested in this as you given I just got here, but your emotion is palpable!! I have... complicated feelings about his whole deal wrt geopolitics I won't lie, but I am serious about the whole "Is it the Russian thing?" I wouldn't, like, submit this as a legal document or anything, and I doubt I'd be the first to point it out, but there has to be a level of Othering that comes from his nationality, right?

So there's my thesis: he's not like them, he's not from there, and his image is not who they want for a star. Being so undeniably good for so long probably bought him some time in their good books, but the moment he looked a little bit mortal any grace they had to give was dispensed with. It sucks for you as a fan of course </3 I don't mean to sound so morbidly curious about it all,,, like i get that a real wrong was done to Ovechkin by the establishment that refused to recognise him!! But . well. I'm looking at this through a nonfiction writer's lens. I do hope someone who was there for the whole thing writes a book or two about this, because it would make for a really interesting story. I get the feeling people will look back on this stretch of time and think the world went a bit crazy for believing Alex Ovechkin was done.

[itsjustbasketball]

First we take Monaco...

It is May 1, 2024, playoff time in İstanbul, an ancient city seducing you with the whispers of its stories, told and untold… Fenerbahçe Beko returns home after splitting the two away games in AS Monaco Basket for Game 3.

Fenerbahçe Beko: The basketball team of one of the oldest and most popular sports clubs in the country, with a storied history in the League. A permanent fixture in the Final Four between 2015–2020, the 2017 Euroleague Champions. Looking to go back to its glory days under the command of Šarūnas Jasikevičius, who took the helm mid season…

AS Monaco Basket: A relatively newcomer to the league, built around one of the best players on the court, holder of the league’s all time leading scorer title. With a single Final Four appearance in 2023, eager to show they belong…

The drive. Left home at 7 pm for the 8:45 pm game at Ülker Arena. A rare 20 min drive, gave us more than an hour to kill before game time. Because living in this city is about traffic management, first and foremost.

The t-shirt. In our seats by 7:30 pm. Yellow road to final four t-shirts to greet us. The colour is kicking, and the material is soft and thin. Way better quality than the Toronto Raptors t-shirts from way back when. Unwearable with their high collars, and shitty material, still gathering dust somewhere in the closet. There is a curious drawing of the team on the front. Saras is there, and so is Motley, I think, Scottie, almost. It is downhill from there. Why is Dorsey an angel? But most importantly, Who is the dude with golden funky glasses? Questions, questions.

Pre-game. The rosters are up. Motley still out. John Brown, who got injured last game, is also on the sidelines. I like Brown, he was huge in the regular season loss to Monaco. Sertaç who also left game 2 early due to an injury is on the roster (but does not start). The arena audio sound is way too loud. TOO LOUD. And the music is meh. So we rock the headphones and crack the volume.

The refs. They boo the refs at the start of the game. Every game. They know something I don’t? As this unfolds, the refs are not convincing — or convinced — at all, which leads the fans to question every call they don’t like. Which is made worse by the refs questioning every other call they themselves make. I am still not over that bizarre time travel sequence in game 2, where Monaco was awarded the ball after an unsportmanlike foul call for Motejunas from the future, they should really ban time travel on the basketball court. This whole watching, and rewatching, and re-rewatching is butchering the game, and not sustainable or manageable, and inevitably we will have to give the whistle back to the referees and back down.

The game. I did not believe we would win game 1 until we won it. I believed we would win Game 2 until we lost it. This game felt like a W from the start. Yes there were flashbacks in the 4th, but this is home, and this team only lost two home games this season. Crvena Zvezda and Efes. I remember the Crvena Zvezda game, where as we were cheering against Teosodic and his men, I could not help but think that it just was not working, perhaps working against us. Last night it felt just the opposite. The arena was rocking (I read the comments on social media today dissing the Fenerbahçe fans in the arena for whatever, and from our vantage point right at the centre I have to say that is neither fair nor accurate. The fans were engaged throughout, and definitely made a difference. It was definitely a play-off atmosphere. This is an arena where most watches the game sitting down, with only certain sections — the usual suspects up and about all the time… And football jerseys vastly outnumber the basketball ones — I counted only 5 yesterday — Does not change the fact that the fans rocked last night.) The team played well and hard. Calathes, Guduric and Biberoviç were all huge, but I felt, all said and done, Papagiannis made a big difference last night at both sides of the floor. Diallo was the Monaco player that stood out the most, was all over the court and rather annoying. Monaco looked rather tired at times. The inbound alley-oop pass from Strazel to Blossomgame was a thing of beauty (yet I was more dazzled by the defense — or lack thereof watching the highlights). After a defensive breakdown I look to Saras to figure out what went down, as he is seen shouting at the top of his lungs to whomever messed up…. The last two minutes of the game went at a dizzying pace, one crazy sequence after another, I had to sit down for a bit to steady myself at some point. I am a bit hazy about what went down, but in the blink of the eye, Hayes-Davis was running the clock for the game to end, and we could all breathe again.

The jersey. I am a basketball fan, who grew up watching Efes, celebrating the Koraç Cup win on the street with a handful of people, who happened to move to a Fenerbahçe neighbourhood in İstanbul upon returning home. So this is my neighbourhood team now … This season has been mostly about getting to know the team. All season, game after game, there has been one question playing around in my mind. If I were to buy a jersey whose name would I put on it. My brother has a Saras jersey — they could not fit Jasikevičius on it-, which I thought was a brilliant idea, and my son who can still count his age using his two hands wants a Wilbekin- which only makes sense… But whose name would I put on my jersey… I really like this team, and would wear any number of the players (Biberoviç if I was younger, Hayes-Davis if he had not dropped 50, Papagiannis if I was trying to make a point, Pierre if he was able to stay on the court longer, Motley if I was taller…) but here we are. And there is one name I came to associate with this team more than any other — and that is Nick Calathes. I am not buying a jersey, just yet.

Post game. It took us around an hour to get the car out of the arena, a price we were willing to pay for waiting to cheer for the team after the W. Home in 15.

The day after. We re-watched the second half on Euroleague TV. It’s been a while since I rewatched a game that I have attended, was surprised to see how different the two experiences could be, especially for an intense playoff game. Your logic and your emotions stack up differently in each case, tipping you off slightly, landing you in surprisingly different points, both of which might be equidistant from the truth of things. The Euroleague commentary was rather enlightening, making me realise that we beat a terrific, great, Herculean Monaco team with a single terrific play (by Papagiannis) and by, well being open.. Quite an accomplishment, I think. Terrific.

[turboacek-blog]

NBA 2020s: the USA vs World Era

In nba 2k the past two games they named 2010-14 the Lebron Era and the Steph era being apparently from 2017 to I’m guessing 2019?

There been some talk about the division and timeframe like would it not all be Lebron era for example or why specifically 3-5 years and so on like I would just say 15-19 to make it even with Lebron or just call it Lebron vs Curry era

But I want to discuss the current era of 2020-24 and potentially onwards

I want to call it the USA vs the World Era

Championships

Unlike the past decade the 2020s have had no repeat champions so can’t say a team dominated like Lebron Heat or Superteam Warriors

It’s been a different team each year and not in the 2010 way where every year has either Lebron or Steph in it

Something I noticed is that the main player of each team has been alternating between a U.S. player and a foreign player

2020: Lebron & AD (US)

2021: Giannis (World)

2022: Stephen (US)

2023: Jokic (World)

2024: Tatum & Brown (US)

So it’s been back and forth this decade so far and while we don’t know 2025 and on at this time if an era is 5 years like 2K did then this is a good frame to go off of

Foreign player dominance

Players such as Jokic Giannis and Embiid if you count him as foreign have won the past 5 MVP awards showing to at least a lot they have been the best players in the NBA

Not even counting Luka Doncic, Shai, and even Wemby now

And there has been a talking point about foreign players both positive and negative because of their dominance recently

To the point where the negative can be seen as xenophobic

Which has created a sort of USA players vs foreign player debate

Rivalry’s

While in a sense team rivalry’s are dead in the nba they’re are some player rivalries that make it a point touching on

Doncic vs Booker (Suns vs Mavs)

Doncic vs Kawhi/PG (Mavs vs Clippers)

Lakers vs Nuggets (Lebron vs Jokic) (I know those fans might deny it but they played three times in the playoffs in 5 years two of them in the conference finals and both teams are definitely trying harder against each other than others)

Bucks vs Heat (Heat with Butler has been one of those teams that stop the Giannis Bucks or at least give him trouble and they’re matchups in the post season has been consistent)

All these have a world player against a U.S. player

There’s other rivalries like Celtics vs Heat but these I feel are consistent and fit the theme in the past 5 years

Plus it’s a still a US dominated (in number of players) league so just lower odds for other rivalries with foreign players

Olympics

This isn’t technically the NBA but a big thing that occurred was the Olympics and is a good “finale” for this 5 year era

Not even discussing the “World Champions” / best in the world topic brought up by Noah Lyles

It was questioned if they could win Gold due to how much better a lot of countries have gotten and it was definitely tested in the 2024 Olympics

This while putting a pin in the U.S. vs World debate for Olympics since USA won, does bring up that when Lebron Steph & Durant retire the scales seemingly heavily tip in the worlds favor in some eyes going forward as it took 3 top 15 players ever to squeeze out those wins against the other top teams like Serbia and France

Plus other talking points like Tatum the recent nba champion barely playing, is Anthony Edwards ready to take over, and so on

Misc

Until 2022 the rising star game was USA vs World

There’s been a want for that to return and be applied to the main All Star game

More foreign players coming over to the NBA now more than before including top draft picks

NBA being more global by having games in Africa and other places in the world

If you include 2019 the champions were the Toronto raptors which is the only non US team in the NBA so while not led by a foreign player it is the “foreign” team and continues the back and forth pattern

All these make the aspect that narratively it’s been USA vs World players believable to me

I do think if a team like the Celtics repeat as champions it could skew some points here but overall at just these five years I prefer this than just calling it the Jokic Era because he has three mvps

Written Sep 19 2024

[heavenforblog1111]

Well, usually I don't talk about sports all that much but for some reason I decided to do so today. Its been a while since I left watching the NBA, I mean I still do but very less compared to before. Growing up your priorities kinda change but anyway that is a different discussion. Well, we have seen a lot of super teams in the past but for some reason LA Clippers has not gained that much of attention. Currently, they have Kawhi Leonard a 2 time NBA Finals MVP and champion, James Harden and Russell Westbrook as former regular season MVPs and Paul George who has been a perennial All Star. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rXZV8aQ7ANQ On paper, the team is as strong as it gets. The question however remains, will they win a championship. Its one of those moments when you know you have to do something. When you know that this might be the best chance you will ever get to achieve something you have always dreamt of. I feel the circumstances are just about right for them to pull this off. Currently, they are going strong in the season. We know Kawhi Leonard has the ability to make it count when it matters. He may have crumbled at certain times like when he did against the Denver Nuggets in the playoffs 2020, but he has shown that he has performed when the stakes are high like in the 2019 NBA playoff run. Russell Westbrook seems to have matured as well and is doing well statistically and so is James Harden. Paul George has been consistent as well. Personally, I am kind of excited to see if they win or not. These 4 are among my favorite players and I want to see them win.

[thetoxicgamer]

Don’t Know Which LCS Spring Playoff Team to Root For? Our Casual Fans Guide Can Help You Decide

Six of the top League of Legends teams in North America are about to begin the playoffs after three months of thrilling LCS competition. These playoff contenders have earned their spot by excelling in both incredible teamwork and individual skill. But now, when they embark on a complete best-of-five series on Summoner's Rift, their inventiveness will be put to the test. From championship favorites to dark horse contenders, there are plenty of different options for fans to support when the bracket begins on Thursday, March 23. But for any other fans who haven’t kept up with the LCS over these past eight weeks, here is a quick crash course on which teams you’ll want to stand behind when the sparks begin to fly. If you’re looking for the best bandwagons… For those looking for a surefire bet on a future champion, get ready to put on your favorite Cloud9 or FlyQuest jersey. Both of these teams have remained relatively consistent over the 2023 LCS Spring Split and also boast some of the most talented players in the league. During the first half of the season, FlyQuest were the scariest team on Summoner’s Rift, boasting a seven-game win streak fueled by their star-studded lineup with names like Spica, Impact, and their explosive AD carry newcomer, Prince. Although they cooled down significantly through the second half of the spring, FlyQuest still have incredible firepower to go with their experience. In a similar fashion, C9 have plenty of explosive, veteran talent. Whether you’re banking on an MVP-level jungler like Blaber, a consistent force like Fudge, or the team’s dominant bottom lane duo of Berserker and Zven, you can count on this team to push far into the playoffs—especially after riding into the final week of the regular season as the top team in the league. If you’re a fan of ultimate comebacks… Nostalgic LCS fans will want to root for 100 Thieves, especially if they were fond of the Doublelift-Bjergsen era when these two legends took over the league years ago. Many people thought that this roster wouldn’t be able to stand tall among the other modern lineups of the league, and for a quick moment, this looked like an unfortunate future come true after week six. Heading into the last two weeks of the season, however, 100 Thieves activated some sort of magical force that suddenly elevated them to a seven-game win streak, including huge victories against Golden Guardians, Evil Geniuses, and CLG. Although they didn’t face off against either C9 or FlyQuest during this span, this momentum cannot be understated. The Thieves are ready for another preposterous heist, and they have some of the best players in the region’s history as the masterminds. If you’re a fan of building from within… Hard work and dedication are cornerstones for any successful organization, and in the LCS, no other team represents these keystones like CLG. While other teams looked toward the free agent market this past offseason, the coaching staff at CLG stood put with their squad from 2022 and built on the successes they found. Although CLG might not have as much firepower on paper as other options, their commitment to building with what they’ve got is an admirable quest that has shown steady growth. This split, for example, they finished in fourth place for the second time in a row, compared to the constant bottom-three finishes they’ve suffered between 2020 and 2022. They also have wins against every team in the league—except for FlyQuest—and could take some teams by surprise through the early stages of the playoffs. If you’re an underdog believer… No one thought that Golden Guardians would be a serious contender for the playoffs at the start of the split. In fact, many people believed they would be a bottom-three organization by the end of the regular season. After a seven-game win streak and some incredible performances from Gori, River, and Stixxay, however, these underdogs have booked themselves a golden ticket to the postseason. This roster is the perfect example of equaling higher than the sum of their parts, since individually, these players haven’t been considered absolute superstars during their careers. But with great teamwork and coordination, Golden Guardians could stun some fans, analysts, and teams when the postseason begins. The only issue is that they finished the regular season with three straight losses, and since most teams have now studied their playstyle, they could run into some flexibility issues when it comes to drafting and strategies. Read the full article

[jimothystu]

Nick Suzuki x Cole Caufield - I’m Right Here

Fandom/pairing: Montreal Canadiens; Suzufield

Word count: who tf knows I wrote this on my phone

Notes/warnings: angst. Also it’s 6:30 am and I’ve maybe slept 4 hours, so when I woke up at 5 and read the whole dozenish Suzufield fics out there, I decided it was my solemn duty to write more. Also, sorry for any mistakes or for any suckage of this writing. Like I said, I have not slept much.

Tagging: @st-lecavalier just bc I know you also adore Suzufield

After having such a good season in 2020-2021, and coming so close to winning the Stanley Cup playoffs, ending the 2021-2022 season at the bottom of the league sucked. No, it more than sucked. It was disappointing and upsetting and made Cole feel like he wasn’t good enough. His own season had started off poorly, and though he’d managed to end it on a positive personal note - his first hattie - the season still sucked.

To top it all off, he was pretty sure he was in love with his best friend, whom he wouldn’t be seeing much of over the off-season. Not that he didn’t want to see his best friend, but Cole was going back home to Wisconsin soon. Sure, they could visit one another, but it wouldn’t be the same as seeing each other nearly every day. It wouldn’t be the same as looking across the ice and seeing him there, knowing he had his back. It wouldn’t be the same as always knowing if he was ever sad, he could just go to him for comfort. It just wouldn’t be the same.

Cole leaned his head back against the back of his couch and sniffled. His tears had stopped, after crying off and on for the past day. He was tired. He didn’t get much sleep the night before, not between the intrusive thoughts telling him he wasn’t good enough and the aching in his chest upon the thought of leaving Nick.

Nick. Who could always make Cole laugh.

Nick. Whom Cole could always find on the ice, even if they weren’t trying.

Nick. Who Cole was in love with.

He didn’t know how it happened, but it had.

Cole scrubbed his hands over his face and exhaled slowly. Somehow, he’d have to deal with this. He had no idea what to do, but he had to figure it out.

-

Nick was just starting to make dinner when a loud knock came at his front door.

His brow furrowed. He wasn’t expecting anyone.

He went to the door and opened it. “Cole?”

Cole shifted his weight from one foot to the next. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” Nick opened the door wider and let Cole in. “You look like shit,” Nick said, and Cole gave him a rueful smile.

“Gee, thanks”

“I mean it. Are you sick?” Nick lifted his hand to place onto Cole’s forehead, but the shorter man ducked away.

“No,” Cole said.

Nick frowned. “Dude, what’s the matter?”

Cole shrugged and looked at his feet. He opened his mouth to say something, but clamped it shut and shook his head. “Nothing, never mind. I should go.”

Nick laughed shortly. “You just got here.”

“Sorry,” Cole muttered. He moved to go around Nick, but Nick blocked the door.

“Cole,” Nick said seriously, “what’s the matter?”

Cole chewed his lip and stuffed his hands into his sweatpants pockets. “I… don’t know.”

“Are you okay?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know,” Cole repeated.

Nick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, person, place, or thing?”

Cole’s lips twitched into almost a smile. “Person.”

“Someone on the team?” Nick asked, and Cole nodded.

“Alright,” Nick said slowly. “What about them?”

Cole’s jaw clenched. He shrugged.

Nick tried to meet Cole’s eyes. “Have you been crying?” Nick asked gently after getting a closer look at Cole’s face.

Cole nodded silently.

Nick took him by the shoulders and leaned down slightly to be at eye level. “You’re scaring me. What the hell happened? What made you cry? Do I need to beat someone up?”

Cole’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “You can’t exactly beat up yourself.”

Nick frowned. “I made you cry? Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

But Cole shook his head. “No, it isn’t… you didn’t…” he sighed. “It’s me.”

Nick blinked. “You lost me.”

Cole hesitantly met Nick’s stare. He visibly swallowed. “I just… don’t want the season to be over.”

Nick pulled Cole in for a hug. “Me neither, man.”

Cole pressed his face against Nick’s shirt.

Nick rubbed his back slowly. “So, what? You gonna miss me too much or something?” Nick teased.

Cole nodded, though, and sniffled. He mumbled something, but Nick couldn’t understand.

“What?” he asked.

Cole lifted his head and stared into Nick’s eyes. “I… I said I don’t want to leave the person I’m in love with.”

Nick’s chest tightened with emotions. His mouth opened ajar. He could see a million different emotions running through Cole’s eyes as he waited for a response.

Nick knew he had to give him one soon, or else Cole would freak out even more. So he did the only thing he could think of: kiss him.

Cole was clearly surprised, for he stood there a moment unresponsive.

Nick smiled softly, and that small action was enough to prompt Cole to kiss him back.

Nick reached a hand up and tangled his hands into Cole’s hair.

Cole pressed his body against Nick’s, and Nick took a step back to let his back hit the wall. He leaned his forehead against Cole’s, letting the kiss end, and mumbled, “You don’t have to leave me. I’m right here.”

Cole smiled widely. “Spend the off-season with me. Please.”

Nick chuckled and cupped Cole’s cheek in his hand. “I’m thinking much more than just the off-season, bud.”

Cole blushed. “Do you want to come to Wisconsin with me? Or should we go to London? Or, or stay here—“

Nick laughed again. “We’ll figure it out. Right now, just enjoy the moment.”

Cole smiled sheepishly and nodded. He nuzzled his face into the crook of Nick’s neck and wrapped his arms tightly around his waist.

Nick held him close. He leaned his face against Cole’s hair, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

The Canadiens may have lost, but Nick had won something far greater than the playoffs. He won Cole Caufield’s heart.

[burkymakar]

Nathan MacKinnon Imagine: striped heart

Summary: Over the 2019-2020 season, the first female referee in the NHL and superstar center Nathan MacKinnon keep meeting, and fall for each other along the way.

Rating: T (mentions of violence, gendered slurs)

Word Count: 10.1k+

BLM Resources

Part 2

A/N: This is so inaccurate I’m probably gonna make someone furious but I love this idea too much and I don’t have enough patience to research.

-

(October) 

Normally, you would never be so self-indulgent to think that people were looking at you. But, that night, you felt like you had just cause.

You were the first woman to referee an NHL game since 1999. 

Even though you weren’t the first ever, you still saw some awful comments.

“She’s not going to be able to handle this” “Isn’t she worried the stripes will make her look fat” “leave this to the guys” and more and worse.

But you didn’t care. You loved the sport, and you were excited for the chance to ref your first NHL game.

You took a deep breath as you stepped onto the ice. Dear God, you hoped you wouldn’t trip. You could imagine the gifs. You’d be trending on Twitter-

“Hey,” Kelly Sutherland, one of the linesmen, said as he skated up to you. “You okay?”

You nodded and went to the blue line. You were acting to be a lines official that game, but you felt a lot of pressure. If you sucked, were people going to use this as an excuse to bar women from reffing NHL games again?

Your first game was the Calgary Flames at the Colorado Avalanche. The air was thin and the mountains were gorgeous, but you were mostly stuck in the Pepsi Center that day.

Growing up, neither of those teams were really your favorite, but you enjoyed watching them in the Stanley Cup Playoff Rounds the year before. Jesus, what a series. 

Once the puck dropped, time flew by, even with all the fits and starts that happen during a regulation game. The Avalanche’s penalty kill was getting a workout, and when you called the second one in thirty seconds, you started hearing some complaints.

“That call was fucking bullshit,” You heard one of the Avalanche players say as you skated by but you grit your teeth and stayed focused. 

You’d reffed before, you’d heard every insult and more. And you saw a lot more when you checked Twitter during the intermission. Your account was flooded with mentions, either praising you or tearing you apart. Some of the tweets were so hateful you just turned off your phone. Maybe you should delete your account, at least for a while.

Back on the ice, the Twitter bullshit didn’t matter. You focused on the puck and the players, keeping an eye on their sticks and their skates. It was oddly calming, having to keep everything in check. It was like a game of whack-a-mole, and you loved those at the Arcades. 

“Are you fucking blind?” You heard when you whistled the puck being played with a high stick from an Avs winger. Nathan MacKinnon skated up to you, face flushed through his helmet visor. 

“You want to challenge it?” You demanded. His mouth snapped shut and his jaw ticked. He had several inches on you and a lot more muscle, but you weren’t scared. “Didn’t think so. Move on.” 

The game continued, and the Avalanche won in a victory that was interesting. The fans were delighted, but you were just glad to get off the ice and go back to the hotel.

“Could have been worse, right?” You asked Sutherland as you two got off the ice. 

“Always,” he replied.

+

And Sutherland was right.

The eyes on you only increased from there. Hockey twitter seemed to adopt you, calling you “Ice Queen.” According to a BarDown article you read while drunk, it apparently started during some assholes on Twitter calling you that derogatorily but it quickly got reclaimed positively. There was even one fan account that posted a picture of you every game. At first you thought it was weird, but they were actually really nice. 

You did an interview with TSN, you had a feature in your hometown’s sports section, and you even did a couple radio interviews. At first, it was kind of fun, but it soon became stressful. What if you said the wrong thing?

But that didn’t seem to happen. You definitely had your haters, but there were also a ton of people supporting you. It was nice.

One little girl had a sign for you at the San Jose Sharks at Toronto Maple Leafs at the Scotiabank Arena. It said “I wanna be like you when I grow up!” and you had to resist the urge to cry. Thankfully, Mitch Marner #16 helped you toss up a puck to her, and you took a picture through the glass.

But on the ice, where your focus was, things only improved. 

You were given the chance to make calls and talked with players, you dropped the puck for faceoffs, you got in between scrums and managed to calm them down a lot quicker. There was probably some sexist nonsense in the fact that they didn’t want to risk getting you hurt, but it helped break up fights before they escalated. As a hockey fan, you liked the fights, but they could lead to some serious injuries. 

“You asshole, what kind of a call is that?” Someone snapped at Wes McCauley during a Rangers vs Devils game.

“The call I made,” McCauley said. The Ranger stalked off, muttering some bullshit, but the game continued. 

“Does it bother you when they call you stuff like that?” You asked him afterwards. Players had sworn at you, but hadn’t called you anything. 

“In weird ways,” he said. “Sometimes, it’s easy because it’s not personal, you know? They just see you as a ref. But at the same time… You don’t feel like a person. But, that’s the game.”  

That rattled in your mind the rest of the night.

+

(November)

After the first month of the NHL season, you thought things would settle. Your hype would die down and you could just focus.

Not the case. 

On the ice, they started having you call decisions more as you proved yourself. You worked hard to catch what you could, and listen as players made their cases. 

Chris Kreider of the NY Rangers even said to you, “Damn, you actually listen” which was nice. 

Some of the bigger names in hockey talked about you. You wanted to punch Mike Milbury’s lights out when he asked on air “Why isn’t she playing in the NWHL? Doesn’t she owe it to other females to play there?”

You couldn’t play in the NWHL, you suffered a bad rotator cuff injury in high school. But you didn’t owe Milbury that explanation so you refused to answer. 

Also, gross, “females”? How had that dinosaur not been fired yet?

A small fraction of people recognized you when you walked around Toronto and Montreal. It was wild and normally pretty sweet. Thankfully, no one came up to you to say “your call sucked” off the ice. 

Some of the players were even asked about you during post games. Your mother, for whatever reason, kept sending them to you. 

Nathan MacKinnon of the Colorado Avalanche actually had your favorite statement, “Y/L/N does a good job, and she explains her calls. I’m glad to have her on the ice.” 

After that, the conversation around you professionally shifted. You had an endorsement from a bona-fide superstar. Part of you wanted to thank him, but that would be too weird, right? You only ever saw him on the ice. If you ever did talk, it was him complaining about a call.

There was one time he said, “Good call” when you called a Bruin for cross-checking #8 on the Avalanche, but mostly it stuck to the ref bashing. 

You did have to give an unsportsmanlike to a New York Ranger who told you “suck my dick while you down there” when you tripped over a Blues’s stick and fell on your knees, but otherwise it was civil in a very hockey-aggressive way. 

And that was great, made you feel like you belong.

“I don’t understand how you like this work,” You remember your mother saying on one of your weekly phone calls. “A bunch of sweaty men insulting you.”

She never got the hockey thing, even though she did support you when you skated. So you didn’t bother to explain. All that mattered was that you loved it.

+

You were reffing another Avalanche game, and the team seemed to be struggling. From following hockey, you knew that two of their top goal scorers were out of commission. But what do you care? You weren’t an analyst, you were there to make calls and keep the players safe and the game going. 

The other refs seemed to be fine with letting them play mostly, but you were really annoyed with the fact the Avs kept icing the puck when they weren’t on the penalty kill. It delayed the game like crazy, and left some players vulnerable to bad checks. 

You blew the whistle and stopped the play when the Avs went offsides, and Nathan MacKinnon skated up to you in that fast-as-lightning way he had. He snowed your ankles a little, but you were going to brush it off as accidental. Then he spoke.

“You bitch, what kind of a call is that?” 

You clenched your jaw to keep it from dropping. In all your games in your debut NHL season as a referee, no one had called you a “bitch” on the ice yet. 

“You’re getting an unsportsmanlike,” You told him. His jaw actually dropped, but you went over to the other officials to put it down. 

“What the fuck?” #91 of the Avalanche demanded.

“You want one too?” You spun around to look him in the eye. He scowled but said nothing. 

“What’s going on?” Their coach, Jared Bednar, called you over to the bench. 

You skated over and explained. “I’ll put up with a lot of shit, Bednar,” You told him as you wrapped up. “But I won’t be called a bitch. Not to my face. He can say my call’s bullshit all he wants, but I won’t take that.” 

It took the coach a moment, but he nodded.

You put on your microphone and told the Pepsi Center, “Number 29, Avalanche, 2 minutes for unsportsmanlike.” You made the gesture, even as the crowd voiced outrage and confusion.

MacKinnon skated into the box, and you went back to the game.

Sweaty and exhausted like a towel that hasn’t been wrung-out yet, you put away your skates and wished you could teleport home. 

“I feel like I fucked up,” You told your fellow referee.

“You made the right call,” Peel said as he unclipped his helmet. “Thank God, you’re not in Toronto though, you’d be Front Page News.”

“Yeah, and I haven’t had enough of that,” You replied with a dry smile, causing the older man to laugh as you finished packing up.

“Someone needed to knock McCauley off his throne,” he said, and you made a face at him. You both stepped out into the hallway, your feet finally in some comfy sneakers, when you suddenly bumped into a warm body.

You recoiled and went to apologize when you saw it was Nathan MacKinnon, #29. 

All words died in your throat. 

“Hey, Y/N, can we talk?” His hair was a bit damp from the showers, and he was in his suit. 

Tim sent you a look. It was silent, but it asked you wanna do this alone? and you nodded, so the other referee walked off. 

It was just you and a former first overall draft pick in the hallway. 

“I was way out of line on the ice,” he said. “I shouldn’t have called you that, and I’m sorry.” 

“Well… thank you,” You answered. 

“It’s been a while since I got one of those,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

You narrowed your eyes, “I’m not going to take it back.”

“No, I know, it’s just-”

“Because you made it about me being a woman,” You plowed through his stammering statement. “If you have a problem with my calls, fine, whatever, that’s your right as an alternate captain. Call me an ass or a bastard, like the other refs. But calling me a bitch made it personal.”

“You’re right,” he said, and that took the sting out of your anger. You felt yourself deflate like a week-old party balloon. He seemed genuinely apologetic. “I really am sorry. I’ve been- It’s been stressful, without my line mates this month. But it wasn’t fair to take it out on you. It won’t happen again.” 

“Thank you,” You said softer this time. “It’s fine.”

“It wasn’t fine.”

“Okay, you’re right,” You agreed with a hint of a grin. “But it’s over and it’s fine now. Just… learn from it.”

He nodded.

God, he was intimidating, in a way that didn’t make you feel scared. He was just big and powerful, you saw it in the way he played. And it was crazy how he still had that intensity off the ice. 

“Well, I appreciate you owning up to it, but I have to go back to my hotel. Great game,” You said.

“Thank you,” he said, and you walked away.

+

The rest of November passed by easily enough, with you reffing games and calling penalties. You found face-offs to be one of your favorite parts, arguing with the players about where their skates were but it was probably the nicest arguments of the whole game. 

People kept asking you what it was like to be the only female referee in the NHL currently, but you didn’t know how to answer that question. That was all you were, you didn’t know how to be anything else. So you admitted that, then told some of your favorite stories. 

Like when Gabriel Landeskog taught you how to subdue someone with a headlock when a puck broke the glass. Or when a puck nearly hit your jaw and Brent Burns offered to give you his mouth guard because “he didn’t need it.” Or when Kevin Hayes kept backseat officiating during a Canucks game. Or Braden Holtby shielding you when a scrum happened between the Capitals and the Islanders and someone knocked you down hard.

It had its ups and downs, but you loved being a ref.

+

(December) 

You only refereed two Avalanche games in December, and both times, MacKinnon was respectful. Not to a fault, you kinda hated it when people over corrected instead of just improving.

He still said things like “what a fucking brutal call” or “that’s horseshit.” But he never called you a bitch again. 

He did call you an “asshole” once, but that did just make you laugh in his face. Surprisingly enough, that got him to smirk a little as #91 went into the box for cross-checking.

Unfortunately, you got a lot of Canadian attention when there was a big scrum between the Vegas Golden Knights and the Montreal Canadiens at the Bell Center. You intervened to break it up with the other officials, but an elbow flew as someone tried to grab a jersey and it knocked you in the nose.

You heard the crack before the pain hit. Resisting the urge to shout “fuck” at the top of your lungs, you swallowed your agony and separated the players, bleeding down your face to your chin. There might have been blood on the ice, but you were too afraid to look down to check.

Once the players were separated, Shea Weber #6 gestured to his bench and a trainer ran out onto the ice. But none of the players looked injured, just disheveled from the scrum.

Oh god, it was for you. 

“I’m fine,” You said listlessly as your head throbbed. 

“I’m sorry,” Alex Tuch #89 said. Oh, he must have been the one that hit you. It wasn’t going to be interference, you knew an accident when it hit you in the face.

“I’m fine, it’s okay,” You repeated as the trainer came up to you. Everyone was looking at you, and it was such a flashback to your first game it nearly bowled you over. You didn’t go into this job for any fame-quenching, you just wanted to be on the ice and help keep players safe. 

Now thousands of eyes stared at you, worried about you because you were weak.

“Let me look at it,” he said in a soft French-Canadian accent. You winced as his fingers gently tapped against your nose to where your bridge met your cheeks. “It’s broken.”

You almost said, no shit but bit it back. He handed you a towel and you held it to your face. 

“I have to set it,” he said. “We must go back to the room.” 

You looked to Wes McCauley, your other referee that evening, who nodded. “Go, Y/N.” 

Skating off with the trainer, you gasped when you saw the players tapping their sticks for you and the entire audience clapping for you.

“Wow,” the trainer, Jean, said in slight awe. You giggled, but stopped when you pulled the rag away to see all the blood. 

It hurt like a motherfucker when Jean set it back in the referee room, but you were able to go back on the ice with bandages up your nostrils as long as you promised to ice it when you got home.

The next day, you were reffing the second Avalanche game, one of the last before New Years. You had a big bandage over your swollen nose. The skin was discolored, and you probably looked like hell. But it was part of the game. 

You were talking to Kyle Rehman about the game plan for the match, when Avalanche #6 swooped past you.

“Marcia, Marcia, Marcia,” Erik Johnson sang, causing you to laugh. 

“Don’t be a dick, Eej,” Nate MacKinnon berated him, warming up nearby. 

“It’s fine,” You were still laughing, as they both skated towards you. “At least it wasn’t a football, huh?”

“No, just a 220-pound forward,” Johnson said. “You’re kind of a badass.”

“We knew that already,” Nate said.

“Thanks, guys,” You replied then teased. “But I’m not going to help you out.” 

“C’mon, get me a penalty shot,” Johnson playfully wheedled as #49 spun around him.

“Who needs that when you have him on a breakaway?” You said with a tilt of your head Nate’s way, and tried to school your embarrassment afterwards. Jesus, Nathan MacKinnon did not need you pumping his tires. 

“Yeah, he’s practically our own penalty shot,” Johnson tapped MacKinnon on the helmet with his gloved hand. 

“Shut up,” MacKinnon shoved back before focusing on you. “Seriously, that looked like it hurt. Glad you’re here tonight.” 

“Me too,” You said, and put the warm feeling that gave you in a box, locking it tight until the end of the game.

At your hotel room, you paced anxiously and unleashed the box. Were you developing a crush on Nate MacKinnon? That’d be devastating. 

Like, yes, he was cute and an amazing hockey player and learned from his mistakes, some amazing qualities that you found sexy in a man. 

But you could already see the headlines. Second Female Referee in NHL Actually a Puck Bunny. People would invalidate all the hard work you did, and say you were just doing it to get some hockey dick. You couldn’t let that happen.

All you had to do was move on. Your career was more important than some stupid fling with a hockey player, that wasn’t even interested in you anyway.

Just move on. 

+

(January)

You had four Avs games this month, which was not what you wanted to get over Nathan MacKinnon. They beat the Blues in the first of the month, and then you were in Denver again for two OT losses against the Penguins and Stars. 

But then the Sharks game happened, and all the players’ tempers boiled over in the third period. Dan O’Halloran warned you that this game might be rough with the longstanding animosity between Nazem Kadri and Joe Thornton, and you thought you were prepared. 

You skated between Avs #91 as Sharks #19 squared up to him as two other Sharks started to skate in.

“I’ll break your fucking hip, old man,” Kadri snarled at him. You kept yourself solid as he feigned on him. Just in case he was serious, you shouldered your way in between and held them apart.

You saw as the Avs Captain, #92, easily knocked Sharks #28 to the ice, who started shoving at #91. Another Shark player started grabbing at #91, so you muscled him away as Thornton kept jawing while the other referee held onto the other Shark. 

Once everyone’s blood had cooled and helmets were back on, the players started getting separated. You kept pushing Kadri out of the way of the scrum, murmuring, “It’s not worth it, c’mon, move on.” But he kept shouting vitriol that honestly wasn’t too egregious.

You discussed with the penalties with other referees once the dust settled. 

“I don’t think Landeskog should get a penalty,” You said, because you thought he was just being a good captain. “But I understand why.” 

“Cross-checking?” O’Halloran asked.

“Seemed more like roughing, let’s give him and number 11 roughings. Just minors,” You said, and O’Halloran agreed.

But Meier and Kadri both got misconducts, and got sent back to the locker rooms. 

Landeskog called you over to the sin bin, and he made his case, but you just shrugged and said, “Hey, my hands are tied. But you know I like your headlock move.” 

He gave you a fun wink. You laughed on your way back to the faceoff, and tried not to notice the way MacKinnon stared at you.

+

You actually didn’t want to go to the All-Star game. You wanted to enjoy the Bye Week and forget about hockey for five days. Maybe eat an entire frozen pizza in one sitting. 

But one of the marketing people at the NHL thought it’d be great publicity, so there you were on the All-Star carpet, even though you weren’t an All-Star.

Your outfit barely fought against the surprising chill in the St. Louis air. Your mom said you had to show off your femininity “for once”, which was why you were one of the few women involved in hockey wearing a dress on this dumbass carpet. It was bright blue and looked amazing on you, but your shawl was not doing enough. 

You were about to ditch everything to go find a merch stand to buy an All-Star sweatshirt, when you heard your name get called.

It was the two representatives from the BarDown website, an off-shoot of TSN. 

They wanted to do an interview with you, which they cleared in a Twitter DM beforehand. You started to walk over, but you saw they were still in the middle of a player interview with Nathan MacKinnon.

Just your luck.

Against all better instincts, you got close enough to eavesdrop.

“What’s the nicest thing you’ve said to a referee?” Luca Celebre asked, dressed like a ref. You actually wished you were wearing your stripes.

“I’ve said ‘good call’ a couple times,” he said, and you can hear a bit of Canadian sheepishness in his tone. “That’s about it, though. Maybe I should be a bit nicer.” 

A flush crawled up your neck even though that had nothing to do with you, and you decided to turn away and hide, but then Luca said, “Y/N! Hey, thanks for stopping by.”

“Of course,” You said. “Hey, MacKinnon.”

“Hey, Y/L/N.” 

“This one of the refs you’re not nice to?” Jesse Pollack asked with a wicked grin under his stupid fake mustache. 

“He’s fine,” You said with a smile because it was true. “Considering we’re natural enemies, everything’s been civil.”

“You excited to be at the All-Stars?”

You pasted on your PR smile that you’ve had to practice over the past five months. “Hockey’s just a fun sport, and it’s fun to celebrate it and explore the aspects here. Plus, it’ll be fun to see this one coach. Maybe you should ref next time.”

Nate rolled his eyes next to you, “I want to see you in fastest skater, then.” 

“Next year,” You agreed, causing Nate to laugh. God, why was his laugh so cute? 

Thankfully, someone called him for another interview, and you were spared the indignity of continuing a conversation with him on camera. 

Luckily, the rest of the interview was a breeze. Both Luca and Jesse were hilarious interviewers. You genuinely liked their quizzes and content. They even had a question about you for one of them back in December, and it actually wasn’t mortifying to watch.

The actual All-Star events went by in a blur. You did ref the games, and watched all the competitions. You talked to the players. Shea Weber, for having the hardest shot, was really soft himself. Mitch Marner was adorable. And Nathan MacKinnon still made your heart race. Luckily, you could pass it off as gameplay.

On the last day, a ton of players were going to dinner at the hotel, and they invited you to join them. It kind of made sense, you were one of the younger referees, not one of those guys in their 40s. You almost declined but Kendall Coyne Schofield hooked her arm through your elbow and wouldn’t let you resist. 

Wine and beer were flowing, foods with carbs were being eaten, and conversations were being had all over the place. You were sitting not too far from Nathan MacKinnon, and watched as he ate a salad. He’d given you his jacket when you kept shivering after the events, and it sat on the back of your chair now. The soft fabric kept bumping into you, a constant reminder of his kind gesture.

“This is technically bye week,” You said conversationally. “You could probably eat one piece of bread. I won’t tell.” 

He gave you a look but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, “24/7, 365. No days off.”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t just gone nuts and just demolished a pint of Ben and Jerry’s,” You shook your head. “I won’t believe you.” 

“Not Ben and Jerry’s.” He shrugged. “But I have been known to eat some Dairy Queen. But only in moments of weakness.”

“You? Weak?” You snorted, then bit your lip and turned away so you couldn’t see his reaction. Gathering your courage, you saw a flash of a smirk on his face.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Don’t mention it,” You said with a self-deprecating laugh. “Seriously, don’t.” 

He just chuckled, but thankfully didn’t bring it up again.

The conversations around you grew more lively, until it became a discussion of “Would you rather have your ice skates or your stick in the zombie apocalypse?” 

“I’d rather have my skates, what if I need to get across a pond?” Mitch Marner asked. “Plus, it’s a good weapon.”

“That’s way too close range,” Tyler Seguin said, and waved a hand around to show his range of motion. “Plus, what if they get dull?”

“The sticks would break way sooner than the skates would get dull,” Mat Barzal shook his head. “I’m Team Skates.”

The conversation got more heated, but in that fun way drunken discussions do. 

“What do you think?” You asked Nathan, who had been quiet for most of it.

“Skates,” he said. “Weapon and transport.” 

“I’d use a zamboni,” You replied, and he threw his head back laughing.

Later, everyone was one their way back up to their rooms. Some players insisted they needed to have a mini-sticks competition in the hallway. You were going to demure but then Nathan said, “C’mon, we need a ref.” 

The invitation was too soft to pass up, so you played referee with a bunch of drunk, elite hockey players. The tipsy part of you wanted to invite yourself to Nathan’s hotel room after, but you stomped it down.

Damn your integrity.

So you went to your hotel room alone and just thought about the centerman instead of doing something about it.

+

(February)

At the beginning of the month, you studied your schedule. Only one Avalanche game.

You did not like the fact you found that disappointing. 

The game did come soon enough, another game at the Pepsi Center. This time, the away team was the Tampa Bay Lightning. On a personal note, you hated that team. But they didn’t play too dirty which meant it shouldn’t be insane.

You watched as Nathan stood sturdy and reverse-hit Lightning #18, who went down hard. You knew it was clean, but you also knew it was kind of hot. Which was not why you were on the ice. 

Palat was bleeding, so you helped guide him to the Lightning bench. He started demanding that MacKinnon get a penalty, but you wouldn’t entertain that. Not because you have a stupid, hidden crush on the Av, but that reverse-hit was clean. What was he supposed to do, fall down? 

Behind you, a couple Lightning players came up to challenge MacKinnon, you can hear it in their vicious chirps. Avalanche #27 was already on his way over, and a scrum quickly broke out as more players on both sides started getting involved.

You skated up to it and started pulling apart bodies so their skates couldn’t connect with flesh. 

“It was a clean hit,” You said, not really to anyone. “Knock this off!” God, you felt like a schoolteacher. 

“I got one,” Avalanche #95 said as he pulled #13 Lightning out of there. You muttered a “thanks” as you pushed them away from the epicenter, and helped MacKinnon up.

Cernak and Landeskog were jawing at each other. Cernak was calling MacKinnon dirty, which really wasn’t the case. Landeskog wasn’t having any of it. Thankfully, the other referee was dealing with them. They were a bit out of your weight class. 

“There’s no need for a shit ton of penalties, so back off of each other,” You snapped again, and finally they seemed to listen. “The MacKinnon hit was clean, but Cirelli, go to the box.”

“What the fuck? Why?” Paquette asked, stepping up to you, but Burakovsky held him back. Cirelli was already on his way to the penalty box.

“Bullshit,” Cernak added.

“Cross-checking! Wait a fucking moment and I’ll call it,” You told him. 

Cernak scowled, but no one fought you on it. You announced it to the arena, and then the game moved on.

Afterwards, you ended up bumping into several of the Avalanche players in the home locker room hallway, including MacKinnon, but the conversation seemed to be dominated by pictures of Landeskog’s daughter, which you had to see. What a darling baby. You asked the appropriate questions about her, and the Captain obliged you happily.

The Avalanche looked a bit beat down. You had heard they were really going through it with injuries. 

“Fun game, you guys,” You told them. 

“Thanks, Y/L/N,” Landeskog said. “And thanks for not giving us a billion penalties at the end there.” 

“I only saw the cross-check,” You held up your hands as if to let your responsibilities fall. “And, MacKinnon, nice Forsberg hit.”

There were bags under his eyes, but he finally smiled, “Yeah, anytime.”

“He’s a fridge,” Number 95 said, hooking an arm around around his alternate captain’s shoulders. Nathan made a face, but the smile stayed.

Before you slipped and fell for him any further, you cleared your throat, “Well, I’m off, but thanks for showing off the baby pictures.”

“Happy to, Y/N.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Number 6 sighed, but he was smirking. The two shoved at each other, and you left the remaining Avalanche to their hallway. But you couldn’t help maybe feeling like it’d be the last time you saw them play.

+

(March) 

Hockey was officially, indefinitely paused and you were about to lose your fucking mind. You were so bored. If you weren’t a referee in the NHL, you’d be passing the time watching old highlight reels but you’re in some of them and you didn’t need to see yourself on screen. Or deal with the comments. 

So, you passed the time catching up on TV shows and texting various hockey players. Kendall Coyne Schofield made you watch Love is Blind and Gabe Landeskog, who you surprisingly texted occasionally after he taught you his headlock trick, made you watch Tiger King. Fucking wild. 

When you weren’t watching Netflix, you actually were using Twitter a lot. It was a lot of fun, and you kept in touch with fans and players. 

You even tried making sourdough bread, but lost patience for that quickly. Thankfully, you found a simple cinnamon roll recipe, and you made it your mission to perfect it.

You were letting the dough rise when you got a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey, this is Y/N right? 

You almost didn’t respond, but something fluttered in your chest when you saw it was a 720, which meant it was Denver.

You: depends, who’s asking?

Unknown: oh it’s Nate MacKinnon. Hope you don’t mind, Gabe gave me your number

A blush crept its way across your cheeks but you gathered your courage and forced yourself to respond after adding him to your contacts. 

You: I don’t mind what’s up?

Nate: I’m just bored with the pause

You: At least you can recover right? 

Nate: Yeah, hopefully by the time hockey comes back hope it’s soon.

You weren’t that optimistic. You knew a lot of people who worked at schools and hospitals and it seemed like this wasn’t just gonna disappear. But you didn’t want to dash Nate’s hopes, that seemed cruel on top of everything else.

You: Hopefully, I miss watching it. I’ve been watching Tiger King instead

Nate: Not you too Gabe won’t shut up about it

You: He made me watch it

You: He’s too charming

Nate: His cross to bear

You laughed.

You: Fine how are u coping with the pause? what are you watching? 

Nate: Watching old game footage trying to improve

You: I feel like we’ve had this convo before but you CAN take a break sometimes

Nate: This is my break i love hockey

Nate: But u sound like Burky

You: Andre Burakovsky?

Number 95 for the Avs, he didn’t take a ton of aggressive penalties. And if he had a problem with one of your calls, he pleaded his case kindly, at least in comparison to the other players.

Nate: Yeah

Great, how romantic.

Nate: he’s all about that work-life balance 

You: that bastard

You: how dare he

You: wanting to take some time to distance from work for his mental health

Nate: ugh maybe you two have a point but im not watching Tiger King

You: u can catch up on gossip girl

You: i heard it’s all the rage for hockey players

He just sent you the puke emoji ten times.

You: xoxo

Nate: what the hell does that mean

You: watch gossip girl and find out

Nate: no

Nate: literally anything else

You: well love is blind is WILD

Nate: what’s that one?

You: Kendall made me watch it, it’s a bunch of people getting engaged without seeing each other

Nate: that sounds ridiculous

You: Fine… you could watch Letterkenny like every other hockey player

Nate: they wouldn't invite me on the show :(

And that changed the topic to his old acting appearances. You had seen a couple clips, and it was fun to chirp him (“where’s your Oscar for best commercial??”) And it was fun to learn about him beyond his hockey career.

Nate: what did you do before hockey?

You: I feel like it was hockey always uknow? 

Nate: yep definitely

Nate: so i guess what did you do before being an NHL ref

You: but I reffed throughout college for our games. before that i wanted to play for Team USA

Nate: what changed?

You: my shoulder lol

Nate: what do u mean

You: tore my rotator cuff in high school. there was surgery but it’s still pretty weak

Nate: shit that sucks

You: Yeah it sucked and killed my career before it could start. But I love reffing

Nate: I dont think I ever said but it’s really amazing what you’ve done in the NHL

Nate: you’re pretty impressive

You pressed your knuckles to your cheeks, as if that would quell the flames burning there. 

You: Thanks that means a lot

Nate: i haven’t been the first anything

You: ur literally a first overall draft pick

Nate: oh right shit

Nate: U know what i mean

You: yeah

You: so thanks

Nate: anytime

+

(April)

The list of players you texted grew over the next month. You and Mark Scheifele texted each other about dogs you saw on your runs, Shea Weber gave you a list of hockey movies to watch (How had you never seen Slap Shot before?) You texted the Tkachuk brothers every time you saw one of their specials, and they always tried to make you pick who was the better brother. You checked in on the various guys who were parents in the league, even some of their wives. Mitch Marner’s twitch streams were hilarious and fun. 

But the one you texted the most was Nate MacKinnon. 

Nate: I don’t like Jessica, she shouldn’t end up with Mark

You: It’s midnight here i don’t even want to guess what time it is in Nova Scotia

Nate: can you tell me if Lauren and Cameron stay together

You: why don’t u google it

Nate: I can’t do that

You: so why would I tell you? 

Nate: Because u made me watch this dumb show and I don’t want to get invested if its gonna get dumber

You: no spoilers!! watch it

Nate: at least tell me that Barnett and Amber don’t stay together

You: i’m not telling you

Nate: ur evil

+

You: …so that’s what happened to Barrie back in 2018?

Nate: yeah it was kinda wild

You: Kinda??!???!!?!?!?!

Nate: lol 

You: i didn’t know those fit in hotel rooms

Nate: we were drunk and determined

You: I think the craziest thing I’ve done in a hotel room was that mini sticks competition back in January

Nate: u never did any stuff when you traveled with ur teams in high school?

You: we mostly just watched movies

Nate: well next time ur in a hotel room do something wild

Nate: get confetti everywhere

Nate: break the bed

Before thinking, you sent the EYES WIDE emoji.

Nate: fuck i didn’t mean it like that

You: i know what u meant haha

You: i could break a window

Nate: spray champagne everywhere

You: order room service until i explode

Nate: dent a wall with a hockey puck

You: how many of these things have u done?

Nate: not telling 

+

Nate: i refuse to do karaoke

Nate: I leave that to EJ and Girard

You: hockey blade to your throat pick a song

Nate: jesus that’s morbid

Nate: i guess Outkast’s “Hey Ya”

You: hahahaha that’s amazing

Nate: now u

You: I guess Waterloo

Nate: shit lol i’m picturing you and Landy do a duet of that

Nate: the swede loves Abba

You: Abba deserves all the hype and more

You: if u had to pick an Abba song to do karaoke to which one?

Nate: i’d have to be really drunk but probably dancing queen

You: good choice

You: if Gabe insisted on doing Waterloo alone I’d do Take a Chance on Me

You: or Super Trouper

Nate: have you ever been to the Abba museum in Sweden? 

You: No i’ve only left the country for hockey stuff, no fun trips

Nate: well if things stop being Unprecedented, you got to go there

Nate: but don’t go with Gabe he will talk your ear off

You: deal

+

Nate: in the event of a zombie apocalypse would you rather have a helmet or your skates

You: didn’t we already have this discussion? 

Nate: that was between skates and stick

Nate: And you picked zamboni anyway

You: skates

You: helmet can’t protect you from being bit really

You: barely protects your brain

You: if i had all your protective equipment??? different story

Nate: i dunno it’s so clunky

Nate: I’d probably stick with skates again

You: plan on holing up in a Costco near a frozen lake?

Nate: no way i’m going right to the hockey rink

You: what about food?

Nate: i’ll raid the concessions

You: Nathan MacKinnon??? eating nachos??? 

Nate: hey the world will be over

Nate: plus there might be other hockey players there

You: u know hockey players would probably be the best at surviving the zombie apocalypse

Nate: agreed

Nate: Hollywood should get on this.

You: hell yeah

+

(May) 

“This is stupid,” You said to Nate MacKinnon through your headset.

“You’re just saying that because I’m winning.” His competitive glee obvious as he danced around your corpse before it disappeared.

You lost a bet, so Nate was teaching you how to play Fortnite before the NHLPA charity tournament. He was playing with two of his teammates, and he insisted he did better practicing while teaching someone else. You refused to participate, but you did donate money to help starving families. But you didn’t see why you had to do it and then play Fortnite.

You had a feeling he just wanted to watch you fail.

“Can’t we play Solitaire or something?” You asked. “Or Minecraft, don’t you remember Minecraft?”

“There aren’t colorful guns in those,” he explained. “Just those weird hammers.” He was right, all the colors in this game were practically assaulting your eyes. 

“Is this the one with teabagging?” 

He chuckled, “No, that’s Halo.” 

“Oh right, this one has dances.”

“Yep, and they all suck,” he said. “So, we normally play duos. Today, we’ll be a trio, I have Nietsy on but his mic is off so we can focus on teaching you.”

“Number 83 right?” 

He made a vaguely impressed sound. “Do you have all the rosters memorized?”

“Not all of them,” You answered, since any players that bounced between the NHL and the AHL you had a tougher time keeping track of. 

“You can do this, Y/N, it’s just like skating.”

“I don’t see the correlation.” 

He just laughed, and continued guiding you through the game. You failed and fucked up for two hours straight, but you finally killed one of the enemies. 

You cheered, exuberance coursing through your veins.

“You did it!” Nate exclaimed in your ear.

Once you finally stopped jumping around, you said, “Thanks, Nate. You’re a great teacher.”

“Anytime.”

“Nope, one and done,” You said as your adrenaline crashed. 

“Fine, deal,” he said. “But, hey, if you’re not busy, you should watch the tournament.”

“If I can, I will.”

“Great.”

“Awesome.”

+

You did watch the charity tournament live on the NHLPA YouTube. And you even ditched a referee Zoom meeting to do it. You found yourself rooting for MacKinnon’s username whenever you saw it, even though it was hard to follow.

You: good game?? i think?? i can’t tell what happened

Nate: yeah my sister Sarah told me she stopped watching bc it was too hectic

Nate: we didn’t win but I did kill Cale so that’s good

Nate: plus it was great to raise money for charity and play fortnite at the same time

You: poor rookie

Nate: he’ll be fine

Nate: fortnite hazing

You: i liked ur beanie btw you looked like a Home Alone villain

Nate: oh my god shut up

+

(June)

Against your smarter instincts, the conversations with Nate MacKinnon had progressed to FaceTimes. Not sexy FaceTimes or even salacious, just platonic and interesting.

But Nate had been shirtless for most of them. You could only see his shoulders, but what great shoulders they were. 

Was it bad you wanted to bite them? 

Ugh.

“How do you feel about Return to Play?” You asked, laying on your stomach in your bed. Your feet vaguely flailed behind you because you couldn’t stop moving. Hockey was going to be coming back, during a global pandemic. You felt so torn you might as well be in two.

“I want to do what the League feels is safest-”

“Oh, don’t give me your bullshit PR answer.” You kicked your head back with a light groan. “C’mon, Nate, how do you really feel?” All the hockey players and referees you talked to always said “I’m leaving it up to the league” and all you wanted was an honest answer.

He gave you a look and went quiet. For a terrifying moment, you wondered if you pushed it too far, but then he said, “Am I an awful person if I’m really excited we get to play hockey again?”

“No,” You were quick to answer. But he continued. 

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt or sick but, Jesus, Y/N, I miss skating. I miss the guys, I even miss getting checked into the boards.”

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Only if you’re there to call it boarding,” he said, causing you to laugh. 

“They did ask me if I wanted to join the Bubble,” You brought up.

His eyebrows raised. “Really? What did you say?”

“That I needed time to think about it.” Which was true. “I’m not living with anyone, and I don’t want the guys with families to have to leave them in my stead. But it just seems so crazy. Part of me thinks hockey shouldn’t even be happening until it’s completely safe.” 

“Colesy is on the committee to decide the set up,” Nate said. “If you have questions, I can ask him.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. it’s just the whole notion. It all just feels so sudden. You know?”

“Honestly? No. This feels like a billion years in the making. I miss skating like I’d miss a limb.”

“Have you been able to at all?”

“No.” He frowned. “Not really. They closed the rink down by my house so I’ve just been rollerskating. It’s not the same though.”

“How are your hands?” You asked.

“Elite.”

“Fuck off,” You laughed.

“I’m kidding, but I’ll prove it,” he said, and there was something wicked about the way he said it. He disappeared off screen, leaving the camera to stare up at his ceiling. Just as your imagination was about to run wild with ways he could show you how elite his hands were, he propped up his phone and bounced around a roll of toilet paper on his stick, keeping the balance and utter control of it.

You clapped and he bowed. “So that’s where all those went,” You said. 

“All the hockey players hoarded them to practice our puck-handling.” 

And you two continued talking about whatever, and even though nothing had really changed about the potential Return to Play plan, you couldn’t help but feel better about it.

The next week, as the referees all discussed it, you agreed to enter the Bubble. 

+

(July)

Scrolling through hockey twitter during breakfast, you saw that Nathan MacKinnon was one of the finalists for the Lady Byng. You grinned and texted him your congratulations. 

Almost immediately, your phone rang. It was Nate, and you smiled.

“Hey,” You greeted. Normally he texted before Facetiming you. This was the first call out of the blue.

“Hey,” he said, and he sounded sheepish again. “Are you okay?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

His line went quiet, but not dead. “I guess I figured you wouldn’t think that I should be a finalist.” 

“Why?” You asked.

“Because I called you a bitch during the game. That’s… That’s not very gentlemanly.” Shame permeated through the phone.

“Oh…” You said. “Honestly, I kinda forgot about it.” A global pandemic and recession happened since Nate called you a bitch and you gave him an unsportsmanlike minor for it. Plus, not to mention all the ways he proved himself as a good person since. It hadn’t even crossed your mind.

“I didn’t send you it sarcastically,” You kept your voice gentle. “I’m genuinely happy for you. You deserve it.”

“But-”

“You apologized and never did it again,” You told him. “In fact, it seemed you learned from it, like I told you to.”

“Thanks,” he said after a moment.

Before you could think better, you said, “Do you remember an interview you gave back in November?” 

“No, they all kinda bleed together.”

“Oh.”

“What about it?”

“Well… you were asked about me, about having a woman as an NHL ref. And you said that you thought I was good on the ice. After that, a lot of the public backlash died down. I never told you, but it meant a lot.”

“I meant it,” he said. “You’re a really good ref, Y/N.” 

“Thanks, you’re a really good hockey player,” You said, even though that felt like a gross understatement.

God, how were you going to get over this man?

+

Nate: the fucking seattle kraken

You: I KNOW IT’S AMAZING

Nate: it’s insane

You: I know!!!! Best team name ever

Nate: that’s ridiculous

You: u can’t talk the original name for the Avalanche was gonna be the Rocky Mountain Extreme

Nate: no way

Nate: holy shit you’re right

You: GoExtremeGo

Nate: stop

You: With the first overall pick… the Rocky Mountain Extreme select… Nathan MacKinnon.

Nate: stoooppppp

You: fineeee

You: but those in glass houses can’t throw stones

Nate: deal

Nate: but i still think the Kraken is a dumb name

You: you’re entitled to your wrong opinion that’s fine

+

(August)

You stepped into the Edmonton Bubble. You wore a face mask with black and white stripes, and Dan O’Rourke was by your side in his matching mask as you two checked in and got your temperatures read.

“You’re both clear, you can go in for testing,” Marissa, the personnel member, said and the two of you headed off.

“Two months,” You said to him as you walked through the sectioned-off area. There was nobody else around. “Getting tested every day, not seeing our families…” 

“And we don’t even get the Cup at the end,” O’Rourke said with a shake of his head, but his forlorn tone was so despondent it was hilarious. 

The first week passed by a blur that was still somehow so slow it was like maple syrup dripping out of the bottle. You couldn’t interact with players, but you were still texting some in the bubble before the exhibition games. 

The NHL had you do a video showing off the referees’ hotel, and you did even though you felt awkward and clunky in front of the camera still. 

You passed the time waiting for the exhibition games by playing cards or teaching yourself how to cross-stitch. O’Rourke even joined you, but he kept bitching about pricking his fingers with the needle. 

You ate the food the workers prepared, and watched more shit stuff on Netflix. You tried watching Tiger King again but it didn’t hit the same four months into Coronavirus. 

You debated texting Nate, but you didn’t want to distract him. But you ended up missing the conversations a lot more than you thought you would.

+

Before the games started, all the referees in the Western Conference gathered to discuss what to expect. The biggest thing was that players were probably more likely to take lazy penalties.

And, damn, did they prove you all right. 

So many Too Many Mens over the past two days. So many lazy hooking or slashing penalties that probably could have been passed off as getting used to their sticks again. 

You were one of the three refs at the Wild/Avalanche game, and it was amazing being on ice again for a real game. Like, yeah it didn’t count, but who cares? 

As you watched the game play, you noticed that the Wild were going hard after Kadri, and he almost fell for it. He shoved back, but didn’t instigate.

“Don’t do it,” You told him as you helped separate the two rival teams again. He snarled a little and continued to chirp, but nothing even worth a minor for unsportsmanlike.

Another scrum broke out near Kadri, and Landeskog was quick to jump in, which meant he had to get a roughing. But Kadri kept his gloves on.

During a TV timeout, you skated up to Nate. “Hey, I don’t want to be out of line, but I think it won’t just be the Wild going after 91.” 

You could have said more about his history with postseason-ending penalties, but you figured Nate knew that. From talking to him, you’d already gathered he was a huge hockey fan. He could rattle off stats like analysts. You two once had a two-hour-long discussion about the Wayne Gretzky rule. 

He held his stick against his hips, and surveyed the ice. 

“Yeah, we’d been talking about that,” he said, and then looked down to meet your eyes. “Thanks, Y/N.” 

“Don’t mention it,” You said and you weren’t exaggerating, and skated off to get ready for the faceoff. 

Later, in your hotel room, you finally texted Nate.

You: Hope I wasn’t out of line earlier. I was just worried about Kadri. 

Nate: hey i was just about to text u

Nate: And yeah it’s all good, we kinda figured that. But we saw it in full force today. 

Nate: U weren’t out of line. 

You: Cool, just wanted to check. 

Nate: How you liking the bubble?

And the two of you continued to text, and you tried to not fall a little bit deeper.

+

You’d thought you’d seen everything in hockey, but Game 4 between the Avalanche and the Coyotes was shaking up every foundation. But you figured any hockey game in this bubble had no foundation. Everyone was playing on metaphorical quicksand instead of ice. 

The Avalanche were kicking ass after a pretty rough loss. You didn’t ref that game, but you caught the highlight reel. You almost texted Nate to say good game despite the loss, but you figured that would be weird. He probably didn’t want to hear it.

This game was a return to force. Number 8’s goal was beautiful, and it was pretty cool to see how well Kadri was playing and all the penalties he wasn’t taking. But you called the Avalanche’s penalties as necessary. Your newfound feelings for this team weren’t going to affect your impartiality. 

You turned as you heard the whistle go off, since you were keeping your eye on the puck. You turned to see #67 Coyote bash #8 Avalanche into the boards between the benches, and both teams swarmed. 

The other refs blew their whistles, but you helped pull Makar from the pile since he was still down on the ice and slow to get up.

“You okay?” You asked, and he nodded. “He’s gonna get boarding for that-”

But you cut yourself off as you focused your attention to the new scrum by the Avalanche bench. Nate MacKinnon was throwing #36 Coyotes around like a ragdoll. 

“Beat his fucking ass!” You heard one of the Avs players shout, but most people seemed to be reverently watching or just wordlessly cheering. 

But Nate didn’t beat him down, he just kept him down. 

You skated with Makar over to the bench so he could get checked by their trainer, and helped separate MacKinnon and Fischer. 

The other refs started going through the calls with Landeskog, whose lid was ripped off apparently in the middle of all that. 

“Way to go, Lady Byng,” You whispered with a hidden smile. He snorted next to you as you corralled him into the penalty box. The other referee called it after getting the Coyotes, but you sent one last look to MacKinnon in the sin bin before refocusing on the game. 

+

The next day, you acted as a lines official for the Flames/Stars game. Both teams were going hard since they were tied 2-2, but both were missing key players. It should be interesting. 

Understandably, a scrum broke out in second, and you helped by separating, but one of the Stars players held on when they normally let go, and you fell backwards with a Flames player, causing your shoulder to stretch out way past what’s comfortable.

You cried out in pain, unable to swallow it, and fell down in the scrum. Cam Talbot helped pull you aside out of the way of skates. The ice soothed some of the burning pain through your referee shirt, but you felt like your arm had popped out. Like you were a deranged boy ripping off the limbs of his sister’s barbie dolls.

Another trainer came by, this one with a soft Southern accent. He knelt down to your side. 

“Let’s get you off the ice,” he said, and you whimpered as your shoulder moved with the effort of standing. 

You couldn’t fake being fine, so you gingerly held your side and skated off with him, and a couple players wished you were okay as you went by.

In the medic room, you sat as you got poked and prodded.

“I don’t think it’s a broken bone,” Dr. Jain said as she studied you. “We can take you in for an X-ray. But you said you tore your rotator cuff before, correct?”

You nodded and tried to focus on the positives. Like you didn’t cry on television. And your arm wasn’t out of its socket.

Since you couldn’t go back to the game, you waited for the results in the medic station, bored out of your mind and wishing you could go back to the game.

“Looks like it’s just exacerbated from the old trauma, but I don’t think it’s entirely torn. I’ll tape it up for you to ease the moving pain. Take these anti-inflammatories. I recommend you keep it in a sling to prevent you from using it, at least for the first week. And we’ll see about some steroid injections if the pain gets worse.”

“Am I allowed to ref?”

The doctor rolled her eyes, “All you hockey folks are the same, wanting to get back out there. No. Not yet. But come back and let me monitor you, and we’ll see about a time frame. Sounds fair?”

“Yes, Doctor.” 

You swallowed the ibuprofen she handed you as she taped up your shoulder. You winced, but kept your composure for the rest of the treatment. 

You walked back through the gated off hallways back to the hotel, when you checked your phone. After responding to frantic texts from your mother, you got a new message that caused your heart to skip.

Nate: I saw what happened u ok?

You: I aggravated my shoulder but I should be ok soon

You: Thanks for checking

Nate: You should come by the JW later

Your jaw dropped.

Nate: if u want

The word NO in big red letters flashed in your mind, but what you said was,

You: okay

+

For some unknown reason, you were at the JW Marriott. With hesitant fingers, you texted Nate’s number that you got through security and were in the lobby. Like all referees in the Bubble, you’d been social distancing and being careful, sticking to the hotel or the rink. It was great because you cared about all the guys you were staying with, but this was the first time you were in the players’ hotel.

Nate: Be right down

You waited by the elevators and studied the decor of the lobby. He stepped out from the staircase, wearing a simple t-shirt and shorts. He looked so casual, but still had the swagger he had on the ice. Truly impressive. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How’s your shoulder?”

You made a face as you stepped onto the elevator with him, “It’ll be better soon. I should be back to reffing at least by the second round, but if not that, the conference finals should be fine.”

“You didn’t tear your rotator cuff again?” 

He remembered.

“No, thankfully,” You said as he led the way into his hotel room. It was unpacked and decently put away. There was a gaming set-up in the corner, and you grinned. 

“You can’t stay away from Fortnite, can you?” 

“Gotta do something here, and I hate playing cornhole,” he said, reaching into the little mini-fridge. You thought he was going to pull out tiny bottles of tequila or wine, but he handed you an ice pack.

“Here, you should be icing that.”

The gesture was so sweet that you grabbed the fabric of his t-shirt with your fist and pulled his lips down to yours. 

His lips parted in surprise against yours, and the gravity of what you’d done hit you like a freight train.

“Oh god,” You jumped away just as quickly as the kiss had happened. “I’m so sorry. Jesus, I-”

But he grabbed you by your hips and tugged you flush against him, tilting away so your bad shoulder wasn’t affected.

He was kissing you.

You were kissing Nathan MacKinnon. A gaming, hockey nerd who gave you an ice pack after seeing you get injured. The guy who was up for the Hart and the Ted Lindsay this year.

You were kissing Nate. 

This was so stupid.

But you didn’t want to be doing anything else.

Note: thank you for reading!!! let me know if u caught the Brady Bunch reference. Orrrrr if you want a part two?

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 30

A/N:  Okay, so, special announcement.....

The President Wears Prada is ending at Chapter 35.

I know a lot of you weren’t expecting this, but that is where I have planned it to end.  It’s a natural end.  Nothing will be forced.  There’s still a lot left to go, a lot to happen with Aberdeen, Willy, and everybody else, and a lot to write about.  I haven’t written up to it yet, but I know exactly what is going to happen.  I didn’t want the end to come as a shock to you, which is why I’m announcing it now.

In the meantime, enjoy this chapter!

July 1st, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was with William on the rooftop of his condo building.  

She’d spun a wild web of lies to make sure she could be with him after he begged to see her for Canada Day.  It was a bit awkward this year, because it landed on a Wednesday, right in the middle of the week, but she’d managed.  She’d told Kasha she was with her family.  She’d told her family she couldn’t stay the whole day, and because they spent the morning and the afternoon together already, they were okay with that.  

She was getting too good at lying.

“What are you thinking about?” William asked as they lay together on a recliner they had dragged from underneath pergolas so they could see the night sky.  Though there was too much light pollution in Toronto to see a sky full of stars, there were still some bright stars in the sky along with the glowing moon.  From all the way atop the building, they could barely hear the noise from the city below.  

She smiled.  “For the first time, nothing,” she said, cuddling her head onto his chest even more as he held her hand against her heart.  “My mind and my heart are at ease right now.”

She could feel him smile.  He liked how she felt so at east with him.  He liked how he could make her feel that way in between the stress of her job and moving forward in her career.  He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

She raised her head from his chest to cock an eyebrow up at him.  “We’re not having sex on the roof of your condo,” she deadpanned.  

He snorted.  He didn’t blame her for thinking that’s what he wanted.  Ever since he got back to Toronto, they fell back into the habit of sneaking around.  Most of it happened at his apartment now, in between skating at Scotiabank Arena and Aberdeen telling Kasha she’d have to be there the whole day and not just the few hours when they boys were in.  “No, minskatt.  Something else.”

“What something else?”

William shifted his body so he was sitting up more, causing Aberdeen to shift too, straddling his lap to face him instead.  She ran her hands over his chest quickly before he took them, kissing them both, before she watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.  “You weren’t the only one I was talking to during quarantine.”

She furrowed her brows at him.  She knew he wasn’t cheating – he wouldn’t be risking her career and her reputation if he was just going to cheat on her – so she had no clue what he meant by that.  “What does that mean, exactly?”

“I thought you deserved some good news during the lockdown…quarantine…whatever,” he began.  “So I got Kyle to send me Max’s number.”

“Who’s Max?”

William rolled his eyes and giggled.  “Max Kerman, minskatt.  From the Arkells.”  He watched as her face lit up before he continued.  “He told me to tell you they’re coming out with a new album.  Well – new.  It’s, like, an acoustic album.  They’re re-imagining all of their songs as if you’re singing them around a campfire,” he explained.

“Really?” Aberdeen was excited by the news.  “That’s so cool.  I love when they do acoustic sets.”

“Mhm,” William nodded.  “They’re releasing it in August.  But they’re actually including one new song.”  He paused for dramatic effect.  “Want to hear it?”

Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out of their sockets.  “What do you mean want to hear it?  You have it?!”

William nodded.  “Max sent it to me.  I told him about how much of a fan you were, and he remembered you from the mentor’s trip, so he didn’t mind so long as we were the only ones who heard it.”

He could see her eyes light up like fireworks.  “Well—well of course!  I’m not gonna leak it!” she said as if Max were standing in front of them.  “Is it acoustic too?” she asked.  William nodded.  “What’s it about?”

“Let’s see,” he smiled, fiddling around with his phone, shaking slightly.  “I’ve listened to it once or twice.  I think it’s a love song.”

Aberdeen waited impatiently as William found the song.  He turned the audio up on his phone to the highest level as she heard Max’s voice count the beat in.  When the acoustic guitar started, she automatically fell in love with it.  Melodic, as always, sounding like a perfect Arkells song.  She swayed back and forth gently, and at that point, she saw William staring at her.  

I think about you all the time I can’t get you off my mind

Aberdeen’s body seized up immediately.  I think about you all the time.  I can’t get you off my mind.  I think about you all the time.  I can’t get you off my mind.  I think about you when I’m not even thinking.  I think about you when I’m not even thinking.

A rush of emotion flushed her entire body.  “Willy—” she tried to get out, her voice strained as she pushed away from him.

“Minskatt—” he grabbed her hands on his chest as she pushed away so she couldn’t push away any further.  “Minskatt, come on—”

“—Willy what did you do—”

“—Minskatt, minskatt shhhhh,” he cooed as he saw tears begin to fall down her cheeks.  “Minskatt, listen to me—”

“Willy,” she stressed, looking him in the eye.  “Willy, is this song about me?  About us?”

He nodded softly.  “I got him to write a song about you.  Like your dream.”

Aberdeen burst out into tears, covering her face with her hands as she sobbed into them.  William stopped the song and leaned forward to wrap his arms around her, bringing her into his chest to cry.  He held her tightly and placed a kiss on the crown of her head.  “Why are you crying, minskatt?” he asked.

She didn’t respond at first.  But when she lifted her head from his chest and wiped her eyes to be able to see him clearly, she finally did.  “Are you joking?  Why am I crying?” she asked rhetorically.  “My boyfriend just got my favourite band to write a song about me!” she exclaimed.

“But you like that I did that though, right?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes.  That at least made her smile.  “Of course I like it, you Costco hot dog,” she said, making him chuckle.  “But I don’t – how did you – I mean what – how—”

“I called Max, and I told him about how there was this girl,” William said.  “I didn’t tell him too much.  Don’t worry.  I didn’t tell him it was you.  But I told him what was important, and some things to include.  And he wrote it, and sort of filled in the rest with his own stuff.”

Aberdeen couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  William had gotten Max Kerman to write a song about her.  About them.  Without even revealing their secret.  And he’d recorded it.  Mastered it.  Put it on an Arkells album.  Would tour with it.  Sing it to crowds—

“The best part about it is whenever we hear it on the radio, we’re the only two people in the world who know it’s about us,” William said softly, looking her in the eye.

Aberdeen started crying all over again.  She let her face fall back into his chest as he held her again.  She cried her eyes out.  This was, bar none, the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her, let alone a boyfriend.  She was so overwhelmed with emotion that she almost couldn’t handle it.  William, for his part, let her cry until she was all cried out – until she lifted her head again and wiped her eyes again too look at him.

“Can I play it?” he asked.  

She nodded her head, preparing herself.

I think about you all the time I can't get you off my mind If they only knew Who I've been talking to You got a place off the park I'll come on by after dark Was nervous then When you let me in

We were hanging at cross town parties, oh Just killing time until the main event

And it hurts All throughout my insides I couldn't stop if I tried Loving you I'll never learn So I'll call you when I'm outside You said, "The key's behind the porch light for unit two" I thought of maybe quitting But there's no quitting you

You said that the fridge is dry But you got some red, you got some white The drunks outside Singing lullabies Slow dance swaying back and forth Whispering "What's mine is yours" When you say my name Hits in a different way

You call me out when I'm talking nonsense, oh And I'll kiss you when I got nothing to say

And it hurts (oh oh oh) All throughout my insides I couldn't stop if I tried Loving you I'll never learn (oh oh oh) So I'll call ya when I'm outside The key's behind the porch light for unit two And I thought of maybe quitting But there's no quitting you

My whole life I'm scanning for the exits, oh Lying next to you I don't wanna leave

And it hurts (oh oh oh) All throughout my insides And I couldn't stop if I tried Loving you I'll never learn (oh oh oh) So I'll call ya when I'm outside The key's behind the porch light for unit two And I thought of maybe quitting But there's no quitting you There's no quitting you

By the time the song finished, Aberdeen had stuffed her face into the crook of William’s neck.  She let some last tears fall.  “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said in his ear.  

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, minskatt.  Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker.”

“Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker.”

***

July 10th, 2020

The NHL announced its Return to Play Plan on May 26 with 24 teams in competition for the Stanley Cup.  The tournament begins with the Stanley Cup Qualifiers, which include 16 teams paired in eight best-of-5 series and a round-robin among the top four teams in each conference to determine seeds for the Stanley Cup Playoffs. "I want to make clear that the health and safety of our players, coaches, essential support staff and our communities are paramount," Commissioner Gary Bettman said when announcing the Return to Play Plan. "While nothing is without risk, ensuring health and safety has been central to all of our planning so far and will remain so. "Let me assure you that the reason we are doing this is because our fans have told us in overwhelming numbers that they want to complete the season if at all possible. And our players and our teams are clear that they want to play and bring the season to its rightful conclusion." The format was determined in meetings of the Return to Play Committee, which included executives from the NHL and NHL Players' Association, and five players: Ottawa Senators defenseman Ron Hainsey, Edmonton Oilers center Connor McDavid, Winnipeg Jets center Mark Scheifele, Toronto Maple Leafs center John Tavares and Philadelphia Flyers forward James van Riemsdyk. The qualifiers are being held at two hub cities: the 12 Eastern Conference teams are in Toronto, and the 12 Western Conference teams are in Edmonton, also the site of the conference finals and Stanley Cup Final.  A comprehensive system for testing is in place in each hub city, and each team was permitted to travel a maximum of 52 personnel, including players, coaches and staff. "Obviously, we anticipate playing over the summer and into the early fall," Commissioner Bettman said in May.  "Obviously, these are extraordinary and unprecedented times.  Any plan for the resumption of play, by definition, cannot be perfect. And I am certain that, depending on which team you root for or which team you cover, you can find some element of this package that you might prefer to be done differently.  But we believe we have constructed an overall plan that includes all teams that, as a practical matter, might have had a chance of qualifying for the playoffs when the season was paused. And this plan will produce a worthy Stanley Cup champion who will have run the postseason gauntlet that is unique to the NHL."

***

This was Aberdeen’s second training camp for the same season.  She never thought she’d ever experience a professional sports team’s training camp in her entire life, let alone two.  But her life had taken a turn one year ago (thirteen months now, if we were really counting) when she met William at that bar and had slept with him.  Everything she had experienced this year was…surreal, to say the least.  And that was just in her personal life.  Never mind her professional life.

Although the lines were blurred these days between her personal and professional life.

At Scotiabank Arena, she knew the entire team was on the ice a few floors below Brendan’s office.  She knew Sheldon was putting them through drills, making them skate laps around the rink, shoot at the net – whatever they needed to do to feel like hockey players again.  Whatever they needed to do to go all the way.  Whatever they needed to do to win the Stanley Cup.

“Aberdeen,” she heard her name being called by Brendan.  She shot up from her seat and made her way into his office.  He looked up at her through his glasses as he continued to focus on his laptop screen.  “Close the door behind you, please.  And sit.”

Suddenly her nerves got the best of her.  He never usually needed her to shut the door unless they were talking about something confidential.  “Is everything okay?” she asked, sitting.

He sighed, taking off his glasses and laying them beside his laptop.  He took a good look at her before he began speaking again.  “Aberdeen, I’m going to ask you a serious question, and I need you to think about it before answering me.”

She gulped.  “Okay…”

“Do you want to come into the bubble?”

She was shocked.  He hadn’t spoken to her about the bubble yet, and on the first instance he did, he was asking her to go into it.  This was a grand total of three days before the clubs had to submit the final list of the 52 personnel who would be going in, so she was sure she wasn’t being considered anyway.  “Me?”

He nodded.  “You’d fulfill roles for both Kyle and I, and you would be helping the content creator with the social media aspect of the bubble,” he explained.  “But Kyle and I were speaking, and as we were going through the list of employees to bring, your name came up.”

“I…me?”

“You’re reliable.  Your hard-working.  We know you’re not going to break any rules.  And fuck, there’s some extensive rules,” he picked up a heavy duotang, wagged it at her, before plopping it down on his desk again.  “But it’s going to be tough going in there.  Psychologically.  It’s not going to be easy.  Especially if we go all the way.  And believe me…we want to go all the way,” he stressed.  “That’s why I want you to think about it.”

***

“Brendan asked me to be in the bubble.”

Aberdeen and William had a bad habit of asking things or blurting things out after sex while they were lying in the bed, she with her tits out, trying to catch their breaths.  When she looked over at him, his eyes were bulged out.  “What?”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head.  “He wants me to fulfill my role and help the content creator with the social media aspect.  But yeah…he wants me in there.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what she was expecting to hear from William, considering the information they already knew about the bubble and knowing that much more information was to come, but it definitely wasn’t a decisive, stern, “No.”

It was her turn to whip her head to look at him.  “Excuse me?” she asked.  “No?”

“No,” William shook his head.  “I don’t want you in there, Aberdeen.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows, not understanding why William was acting like this and saying these things.  She shifted so she was propping herself up on her elbow.  “William…I…what?”

“You…I…listen,” he began, sighing, “as much as I love you and as much as I’m gonna miss you when I’m quarantined in there, I don’t…I don’t know if I want you being in there.  I don’t want you to experience that.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve already gotten the rules.  We can’t be in each other’s rooms.  Aberdeen, we can’t even speak in the elevators.  It’s…I don’t know if I’d be able to do all that knowing you’re there too.  But even more important than that, I don’t want you to risk anything.  Your safety, your health.”

“Willy…” she cooed, bringing an arm up to drape around him.  In turn, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, placing a quick kiss on her shoulder.  “I know you want me to be safe, but I’ll be safe in there.  If you’re safe, I’m safe in there too.  What’s the difference?”

William continued to shake his head.  “I don’t want you to have to go through, psychologically, what I’m gonna have to go through.”

She brought a hand between them to cup his face.  “You don’t have to be the martyr here, Willy.  It’s not like I want you to go through it either.”

William sighed, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.  She could feel his lips graze her skin on her neck and shoulder, but he stayed silent.  He didn’t say another word.

***

July 12th, 2020

“I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do what?”

“I’ll come into the bubble.”

Brendan looked up from his desk, finally.  He took off his glasses.  “You’re sure about this?”

“Positive.”

“Because once you say yes you can’t back out.  We have to submit the names to the NHL officially tomorrow.  And once you’re in the Royal York, you can’t leave unless it’s a family emergency – death, birth of a child—”

“I know.  I read the package,” she nodded her head.  “I understand what I’m getting myself into.  I’ll do it.”

***

July 16th, 2020

Aberdeen walked gingerly into the coffee shop Brendan had sent her to.  In the middle of a pandemic.  She understood cases were now fairly low in Ontario, but she was still apprehensive.  People shouldn’t just be…going places.  Walking into offices that weren’t their places of work or coffee shops that weren’t their regular coffee shops or grocery stores that weren’t their regular grocery stores.  Places that they didn’t know.  That they weren’t used to.

Yet here she was.

She stood at the door awkwardly.  There were exactly three spaces for indoor dining when, in regular times, she knew there would be much more.  At one table, a couple sat with masks on and coffees in front of them staring at their phones.  At another, a girl who couldn’t have been older than here was sneakily taking a Snapchat selfie.  At the third—

“Aberdeen Bloom?” the woman sitting at the table asked.  Her eyes crinkled slightly, signaling to Aberdeen that she was smiling behind her mask.  “Please, sit!” she motioned to the chair.  

“Hi,” Aberdeen said awkwardly, extending her hand but then pulling it back violently before half bowing as a form of saying hello.  She was so fucking awkward.  She didn’t even know what this was for.  “That’s me, Aberdeen Bloom.  I’m Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.  And your name is…”

“I’m Beth Zadakis, the major features editor of Toronto Life magazine.”

Aberdeen’s breath hitched in her throat.  She was going to fucking kill Brendan.  She was going to go back to the office and murder him in cold blood.  “It’s so nice to meet you,” she said politely, thinking about the gold-plated envelope opener in Brendan’s desk she could use to stab him.  “You’ll have to forgive me, but Brendan didn’t really give me any information about this…uh, meeting,” she said.  “What is it that he needs from you?  Or you from him?”

“Nothing, actually,” Beth’s eyes crinkled again.  “It’s actually more so about you.  Brendan tells me you’re a writer.”

Aberdeen gulped.  “I’m definitely trying to be.”

“Have you submitted to us before?”

Aberdeen nodded.  “Just to the memoirs section.  I think it was Sandy who read my work, but it was ultimately rejected.  At least, that’s who I got the email from.”

Beth nodded.  “Sandy’s actually left to take a job with The Globe and Mail.  And due to some promotions and transfers, there’s actually an opening for a contributing editor – it’s what we call our writers.”

Aberdeen knew very well what Toronto Life called their writers.  She had dreamt of seeing her name on that list for years now.  “Why…I mean—how do I factor into this?” she stuttered out.

“Brendan tells me you’re going into the NHL bubble.”

“I am.”

Beth leaned in slightly.  “We’d like for you to write a feature for the magazine about life in the bubble.  The hotel, the boys, the games – everything.  Hockey in a pandemic.  A full feature, anywhere between five to ten thousand words.”

Aberdeen’s body felt like it was on fire.  She was sure her eyes were bulging out dramatically, but at this point, she didn’t care.  “I can do that,” she said, nodding her head.  “I can do that.”

“If you can pull it off, Aberdeen, you’ve got a job with the magazine.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest.  “I can do it.  I won’t let you down.”

Beth shifted slightly in her seat and took out a piece of paper.  “I’m going to write you the name and contact information of my senior editor, Alec,” she said.  “He’ll want to meet you and speak to you about the piece.  But it’s a go, Aberdeen.”

***

“A major feature, minskatt?” William’s eyes lit up at the news Aberdeen had just shared, her giddiness and excitable energy rubbing off on him quickly.  “That sounds important.”

“Is is important!  It’s the longest feature of the magainze!  Willy, it’s usually the cover!” she exclaimed.  “The—the cover!  Do you know how much of a big deal that is?!”

“I can tell from how much you’re freaking out about it,” he smiled.  He reached to grab her hands and intertwined their fingers.  He pushed them and crossed them at the small of her back before moving closer to her body and giving her a quick kiss.  “Look at you, minskatt.  I’m so proud of you.”

“Well, I haven’t written it yet.”

“Yeah, but you’ve shown me your writing.  And it’s fantastic.  So you’re gonna knock this one out of the park.”

Aberdeen knew how lucky she was to have someone like William in her life, always supporting her and always being her biggest cheerleader.  While other people had told her to pursue other things, he was there encouraging her – the silent support she always wanted and needed.  “I love you.  D’you know that?” she asked tenderly, looking up at his big blue eyes.

He could only smile.  “Not as much as I love you.”

She chuckled slightly.  “You realize if I knock this out of the park, that means I become a contributing editor at the magazine.  I become a writer.  My dream.  And that means I leave the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

“That means I can finally kiss you in public.”

Aberdeen smiled.  It did mean he could finally kiss her in public.  It meant a lot of things.  They could finally be open with their relationship.  They could go out on dates publicly.  They could go out to dinner.  She could bring him to San Remo Bakery.  They could have picnics in the park.  They could walk along the lake.  They could post on Instagram about each other.  She could finally have the name set as ‘William Nylander’ on her phone as opposed to ‘Head Empty’ (maybe she’d keep it that way).  They could do so much.  So so so much.  “It would be bittersweet leaving…” she bit her lip.  “I mean…I love my job, Will.  I love all the guys.”

“Brendan wouldn’t have put you up for the job if he didn’t think it would be a great opportunity for you,” he shrugged his shoulders.  “The guys would miss you but they know you want to become a writer.”

“But what if I can’t deliver?”

William shook his head.  “Brendan wouldn’t have put you up for the job if he didn’t think you’d be able to deliver, either, minskatt,” he said.  “I know you can do it.  We all do.”

***

July 17th, 2020

“You must be Aberdeen Bloom,” Alec Young said with no hint of any emotion in his voice as Aberdeen stood in the doorway of his large, expansive office.  As per COVID-19 protocols, there were very few people in, but apparently Alec was important enough to be in the offices working instead of working from home.  She imagined he had piles and piles of articles to edit for future issues.  She was surprised he even had time for her – granted, it was a quick lunchtime visit, but still.

“Yes sir, that’s me,” she nodded quickly, clutching her purse handles in her hands.  

“Beth tells me you’re going to be writing a feature for us, possibly,” he said.  “About the NHL bubble.”

“That’s the plan, sir, yes.”

He eyed her.  “Sit.  And close the door behind you.”

Aberdeen did as she was told, sitting in the plush chair more than six feet away from his desk – his office was that big.  She settled in but he made her wait as he typed away furiously into his laptop before he finally stopped and turned towards her.  “She told you the length?”

“Yes.  5,000-10,000 words.”

“And what we’re looking for?”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows slightly.  “I…I assume about life in the bubble.  Playing professional sports during a pandemic,” she said.

That was when he smiled.  “No Miss Bloom.  We’re looking for…more.”

“More?”

He clasped his hands together on his desk.  “We know what hockey players are like, Miss Bloom.  You’ve been working for the team for about a year now, right?  I’m sure you’ve seen the shenanigans they get up to.”

“Shenanigans?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.  The booze, the drugs, the women.  They’re professional athletes,” he said.  Aberdeen thought back to a hotel visit in Calgary where she found Mitch Marner and Jake Muzzin playing mini-sticks in the hotel hallway like they were a peewee team on their first-ever road trip; she also thought back to the snowball fight a bunch of them had in Montreal where they were giggling like schoolgirls while also deliberately aiming for each other’s nuts.  If Alec only knew.  “That’s what you’re covering for us.  The shenanigans.  Sneaking women into the bubble, the fights, the booze – everything.”

“I…” she began to protest, not knowing which words should come out of her mouth first.  “They’re…they’re nothing like that anymore.  They’re just not,” she said.  Alec looked unconvinced.  “These are guys that are bringing their gaming consoles into their rooms at the Royal York.  They’re worried about the wifi being too weak when everyone’s gaming that it’s gonna lag or something.  They’re not sneaking in women—and drugs?  I don’t even know where to—”

“Listen,” Alec said firmly, holding his hand up to get her to stop talking.  “Either you get us the scoop, or you don’t.  If you get it, you have a job here, and the guarantee that your article will be on our cover and be front page on the magazine racks and newsstands.  If you don’t get the scoop, you don’t get the job.  It’s up to you.”

Aberdeen thought back to when Mike Babcock got fired.  She thought back to getting called by Brendan late at night and less than an hour and a half later she was on the MLSE private jet.  She thought back to just before going into the locker room, and what Kyle had said to her.  “You know Aberdeen, Brendan trusts you.”  She thought back to what he said after he thanked her for not leaking the information.  “You could have sold that information to any newspaper or reporter and they would have offered you a job.  But you didn’t.”

She remembered what she told him.  “I would never burn this bridge.  I’d never sell Brendan or the team out like that for personal gain.”

And then, what Kyle followed up with.  “This city is rife with opportunity for people who take advantage of others.  But you’re not like that – at least yet.”

That was before everything.  Before she had sex with William.  Before she carried on a secret relationship with him behind everyone’s back.  Before she started lying to everybody.  Had she changed?  Was she a person, now, who would take advantage of others?  Would she take advantage of the organization that had given her so much for her dream job in writing?  Was she that person?  A person who would lie to get what she wanted?  Fabricate entire stories just to secure a dream job?

The answer, to her, was immediate.

No.

But she looked at Alec.  “I understand,” she said instead.

He smiled.  “Good.”

[bqstqnbruin]

See you soon

So the Cale blurb turned out differently than I anticipated once I started writing but like, whatever, I think you’ll like this better. It’s also like a three page google doc, so I’m not sure if this counts as a blurb or not, but oh well.  

Warning that there’s mentions of quaratine (indirectly) since this takes place the night of the NHL awards.

Flashbacks are in italics.

I hope you like it!

_________________

“And the winner of the 2019-2020 Calder Memorial Trophy is,” the announcer says, you glued to the TV as you prayed you would hear his name, “Cale Makar!”

You start screaming to your parents that Cale won, jumping up and down as your boyfriend’s face appeared on your TV screen for him to talk about how happy and honored he was that he won the award for the league’s best rookie. As soon as the awards were done, you had planned to Facetime with each other, and now there was even more reason to celebrate. 

You wish you were there with him; he was home in Calgary and you were back in Springfield, Massachusetts, home from school because of the pandemic, 9 hours away from him by plane, on the other side of the continent. “Tell him congrats for us, sweetie,” your mom tells you, kissing your cheek before you head off to your room to call Cale.

As soon as his face appears on your computer screen, rosey cheeks and all, your heart skipped a beat. You had been videochatting as much as you could, but with him playing in the bubble in Edmonton, the calls were much less frequent than either of you had wanted them to be.

“Hey, baby,” he says, in a soft, kind voice. 

“Hey veggie boy,” you call him the nickname you had been calling him since you met. 

Everytime you see him, you can’t help but think about that night you met. 

You were at a party in the Southwest area of UMass during your freshman year, not really wanting to be there, but dragged out by your roommate and the other guys and girls on your floor in one of the Orchard Hill dorms. Not a big party person, you were off to the side, nursing the drink your roommate forced in your hands upon arrival, watching the scene of drunk college students unfold around you. 

“Not much of a party person, either?” you hear someone ask you, taking your attention away from the two girls owning two guys in a game of beer pong. You look to see Cale Makar, the freshman on the hockey team everyone was excited for. Hockey East was arguably one of the biggest and best college hockey conferences, at least in your opinion, and hearing someone like Cale had committed to your school was exciting. You thought you would see him play on the ice; UMass had thirty thousand undergraduate students, what were the chances of meeting him?

“Nah, not really. It’s more fun to watch.” You introduce yourselves, trying to play it cool on the boy you were already forming a crush on. You spent the night thinking up the backstories of the people around you. Whoever came up with the most absurd one would buy breakfast off campus the next morning. 

“Y/N?” you hear Cale ask, bringing you out of your memory and back to reality. “Are you alright? You look upset.”

Looking at your own face on the screen, you hadn’t realized the smile that was on your face when he first picked up was gone, tears starting to form in your eyes. “Yeah, I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

“The night we met. How far you’ve come,” you tell him, “How far away you are.” 

His smile fades away as well, sadness covering his face, practically forcing the tears down your cheeks. You hated that you were making him sad, especially since he just won an award. “I miss you so much,” he whispers, sounding like he was choking back a sob as well.

“I miss you, too,” you manage to let out. “But, hey, babe, you won the fucking Calder! I’m so proud of you. You deserved it.” 

A small smile returns to his face. “Thanks, baby. Did you hear me thanking you?”

You chuckle, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I was too busy screaming to pay attention,” you admit. “The Avs have already posted a video, so I’ll watch it when we’re off.”

You two spend hours catching up on life since the last time you talked to each other a week ago. You had just started your senior year at school, counting down the days before you could graduate and move to Denver to be with Cale, like you had been talking about the last three years. 

The night Cale came back from the Frozen Four game in Buffalo was heartbreaking. It was one of the first nights he didn’t want to talk about hockey, coming to your room and getting into your bed without saying a word to you or any of your suitemates. You had seen him after a tough loss before, but he was never like this. It was never them getting shut out in the national championship. 

“Colorado wants me to start playing with them in the rest of their playoff run,” he finally says, running his hands through your hair as you try to concentrate on the readings you had to do for your class the next morning.

You were used to him travelling for games, but that was with him living in Massachusetts, not in Colorado. “Oh,” you let out, not sure what else to say. “When are you going to join them?”

“I sign the contract tomorrow, and they have a game the next day.” 

You sit up, pulling yourself off his chest to look at him, “Tomorrow?”

He doesn’t look at you, fidgeting with your sheets instead. “Yeah. I want to go, but,” he stops looking up at you and taking your face in his hands. He runs the pads of his thumbs on your cheeks, you reaching up to touch his hands, “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Cale, you have to. If they want you, this is your dream. I’ll be fine.” 

“Yeah, but will I be?” he asks, a small laugh escaping his lips. “I love you,” he says, pulling you in for a kiss. It was soft, sweet, you could tell he felt bad about leaving you. It was the possibility of being your last kiss for who knows only how long that made him kiss you with urgency.

When he finally pulls away, he keeps his forehead pressed against yours. “I’ll still see you when you play in Boston; it’s only two hours away. And, we can call, we can text, or snapchat, or Facetime; we have each other in our pockets at all times,” you try to reassure him, wiping the tears from his cheeks. 

“When you graduate, will you move to Denver, or wherever I’m playing?”

“You think we’ll still be together by then? That’s two more years.”

“I hope so. I don’t plan on stopping loving you.”

“Hey, Cale,” you ask him after sitting there just working, him watching you in the background like he used to when you were still at school together, “Will I like Denver? When I move out there?”

A smile forms on his face at the idea of you two finally being together again. “Yeah. You’ll love it. I do, at least. But it’ll be even better when you’re there. I can’t believe I haven’t been able to see you since May,” he says, looking off to the side as if to not let you see him cry. 

“I know,” you swallow another bout of tears coming on, “But, hey, I’ll be moving out there in June. That’ll go by so fast,” you tell him, excited at the prospect of seeing him in person again. 

“You promise?”

“I mean, I can’t control how you perceive time,” you joke, smiling at the sight of him throwing his head back in laughter. “But I have to watch some video lectures for class, so I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you soon?”

“Tomorrow?” he asks, excited by your nodding in agreement. “I love you. I’ll see you soon.” 

[woah-were-halfway-there]

Leafs in 5

A/N: I was inspired after game 4 against Columbus, what can I say

Word Count: 4.1k

Going into the NHL’s alternate version of the postseason playoffs that 2020 decided to sprinkle in on top of everything else going on in the world, you knew it was bound to be interesting. There was a plan set in motion to keep all the players and staff safe and strict rules that needed to be followed for everything to work the way it was supposed to. Both of these resulted in your boyfriend, Auston, having to stay in a bubble at the Royal York while you stayed alone in your shared condo in Toronto that was just a few blocks away, for who knew how long. 

You were lucky that when the NHL season ended back in March, you were able to travel to Scottsdale with Auston and not be separated. At the beginning of the lockdown, your workplace closed down and moved to a work from home setting until further notice. After clarifying that it’d be at least a month until you could go back, you figured it wasn’t the worst idea to go along with your boyfriend back to Arizona after asking if you’d go with him. Little did you know the two of you would be there for almost four months. 

Although it was a relaxing time, it was also weird. All you really did was hang out with Auston, his family and Freddie while waiting to hear literally anything about things going back to normal, but that never happened. Your work decided that going back wouldn’t be an option even as Toronto entered its reopening phases as a safety precaution. Therefore you’d be working from home for the foreseeable future. 

It sucked a lot. You liked your job, your co-workers, and having your own way to be independent in a professional setting, but a global pandemic makes things a bit pretty difficult at times, and sometimes sacrifices need to be made. Lucky for you, though, it could have been a lot worse. And Auston played a massive part in you being able to adapt as well as you have. 

The time the two of you spent in Arizona together was great. Obviously, during it, you worked, spent time with the boys and the Matthews family, but a lot of new things happened too. You and Auston welcomed Felix, a Bernedoodle puppy home to be part of the fam, and dealt with life as living in a pandemic continued. 

Then the NHL announced its return to play action plan, and things got wild all over again. 

Auston began skating and practicing intently again. Plans were being made to get back to Toronto for training before having to go to whatever hub city was chosen for the Eastern Conference teams. With all the talk of possible locations for the playoffs to take place, you weren’t expecting Toronto to be one of the cities in deep consideration, let alone for one of the so-called bubbles actually to be there. But, that was exactly how things played out, so you and Auston prepared accordingly. 

After some deep consideration and conversations with your boyfriend, you decided that when the time came, you would go back to Toronto when Auston needed to go. However, there was a period where Auston was sick, and that changed things up a bit even more, but eventually, the two of you and Felix were all set and ready to head back to the 6ix without any further delays. 

The two of you settled to being back in Ontario without difficulty. You followed the rules of self-isolating for two weeks upon arriving back to the country, and so did Auston. If he wasn’t at the condo with you, he was at the rink practicing alone, since it wasn’t safe for him to be around his teammates, or the public until those 14 days were up. That was fine though, you both just chilled with Felix, watched the entirety of Sons of Anarchy and Schitt’s Creek, and prepared for how things were bound to change again once the playoffs finally started. 

“I feel bad,” Auston said loudly from the bedroom as you walked down the hallway towards it with the basket full of clothes you’d just taken out of the dryer. 

“Why is that?” You asked once you entered the room, tossing the clothes on the chair, and got ready to fold them. It was his last night in the condo before having to relocate down the street at the Fairmont for the entire Maple Leafs playoff run. He was busy packing, and you were busy making sure everything was organized and ready for this transition. Even Felix was taking part by laying on the bed and demanding attention from both you and Auston every once in a while. 

“You know why,” he deadpanned while looking at you pointedly. 

At that, you sighed.

“Aus, we talked about this.”

“I know we did, but now that it’s actually time for me to leave, I’m dreading it even more.”

As much as you tried not to let the situation bug you, it still did. Throughout your entire relationship, there were many times when you and Auston would spend time away from each other, so that part was nothing new. However, you’d never been in the same city without being able to see one another or know when you’d be able to talk face-to-face and not through a screen again would be. And although the whole bubble situation was something you and Auston had talked about a lot over the last month or so, what it entailed still hadn’t quite set in until that moment. 

“Me too,” you responded quietly and stared down at the pile of clean clothes, knowing that if you looked at your boyfriend, the tears you felt pricking your eyes would undoubtedly spillover. “But it has to happen, Auston. There isn’t much else we can do, unfortunately.”

“But-.”

“No buts,” you cut him off and snapped your teary gaze to him. “This is your career. And the playoffs! Those are no small things. Regardless of how crappy this entire process is, I’m still going to be here, cheering you on as much as possible. It just sucks so bad that things aren’t normal. That I can’t go down to SBA and watch you be the amazing hockey player that you are with our friends and family, or hug you as soon as you’re done your postgame interview and tell you how proud I am. I’m just so over everything right now, and I’m sorry to be taking this out on you, this is the last thing you should have to deal with before going into the bubble. I just-.”

The way your voice cracked at the end of your spiel had your boyfriend next to you and pulling you into his embrace in a second. 

You were on an emotional rant, and Auston knew that. He knew that you had been holding in how you really felt about the NHL’s plan to go ahead with the playoffs, and it was time to let it all out. Although you never expressed your frustrations, you did have quite a few, and Auston was determined to get you to talk about them, especially before he had to leave.  

“I’m sorry I’m a mess,” you mumbled while wrapping your arms around his waist and leaned against his chest. 

“You’re allowed to be a mess,” he replied and squeezed you. “This isn’t an ideal way for the playoffs to happen, believe me, I know, and I’m still not sure how it’s all going to play out. But know I’m sorry you’re feeling the way that you are because of something I have to do.”

“That’s the thing though, Aus, there is literally nowhere else I’d rather be than here for you... but I’m worried. What if you, or another player, or staff get sick? What will the league do then? I get that they’re strict on how things in the bubble will work and everything, but we’re still in a freaking pandemic. I just don’t think it’s necessary. But regardless of what I think about the NHL’s decision to resume, it doesn’t matter. I’m the one who agreed to come back with you, and I’m going to be here still even if you and the team end up in Edmonton for the finals, and I won’t see you until October. Wow, it sucks, even more, talking about it.”

“God, I know,” he responded before pulling away slightly to look down at you. “I’ll never be able to explain how much I appreciate you coming back and being here with me for all of this. I hate that I’m going to be so closeby and not be able to come home to you and Felix and that you’re going to be here alone, but thank you for being willing to do this for me.”

“Of course, I want to kiss your stupid face again as soon as I can after this,” you pouted. “Even if I have to fly to Alberta in order to do so.”

“Wouldn’t exactly be opposed to that idea,” he told you before leaning down and catching your lips in a soft, sweet kiss. It didn’t take long for you to deepen the kiss by wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and pulling him closer. He smiled against your lips, letting his hands linger on your waist a bit as he waited for you to make the next move. But then, you unexpectedly broke the kiss and turned away from him. 

“Well, I guess we better get back to packing, yeah?”

You had the goofiest grin on your face as you reached down to grab one of your t-shirts from the laundry pile, but then Auston let out a dramatic groan from where he stood, and you had to cover your mouth so that you wouldn’t burst out laughing.

“Now you’re just being cruel,” he said as he walked up behind you and leaned his head on your shoulder. You bit down hard on your bottom lip to keep yourself from smiling any wider than you already were as he wrapped his arms around your waist, before eventually turning around to look at him again.

“How so?”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I think I hear Felix getting into something,” you lied as you tried to worm out of his hold, wanting to mess with him a bit more. But he was on to you, which is also why you didn’t put up a fight when he didn’t let go. 

“Babe,” Auston whined. “You’re killing me.”

“Well we can’t have that, you have to go into the bubble tomorrow-.”

Before anything else could be said, Auston pressed his lips against yours again, and you let him. You chuckled slightly before reaching up to tangle your hands into the curls forming due to him not getting a haircut. But you didn’t mind, loved it even, and used it as a way to keep him close. 

“You’re full of jokes tonight, huh?” He mumbled against your lips as he slowly guided you towards the bed, all while tugging at the bottom of the hoodie you wore. 

“Just for you,” you replied before pecking his lips and moving away just enough to pull the sweater off and toss it on the ground before quickly kissing him again. You then came in contact with the mattress and let Auston lay you back on it. It wasn’t long before he was leaning over you and letting his lips roam to that sweet spot along your collarbone that he knew would have you seeing stars. “I thought you needed to pack.”

“I’ll do it in the morning.”

“You’re going to regret that decision once you realize you’ll have to get up early to get ready,” you challenged.

“No, what I’ll regret is not finishing what we’re starting before I have to leave tomorrow,” he quipped and continued brushing his lips against your skin. 

“Alright, fair,” you responded, figuring you’d given him a hard enough time and guided his lips back to yours; the night soon fading around you as melted into each other’s touch. 

The next morning, you woke up alone in bed. The blinds were still drawn, Felix was asleep on the rug, and the AC was cranked for some reason. The cold air made goosebumps rise on your exposed skin, causing you to shiver as you pulled the bedsheet up higher to cover more of your body. Just as you started wondering where Auston had gone off to, you heard the shower turn on from the ensuite and suddenly knew where he was. Part of you wanted to just lay in bed for the whole day, but the other more logical part knew there was still a lot to be done before Auston’s departure and that you should probably get up.

You grabbed your housecoat from its place in the closet and put it on before sneaking into the washroom to brush your teeth. Auston didn’t know you were in there with him, but that changed as soon as you finished rinsing off your toothbrush and decided to join him in the shower.

Once the two of you were done in there, you eventually did get dressed and ready to start the day.

Leading up to his last day at the condo, you made sure any running around for him was done so that there would be no added stress, and that’s precisely what happened. The two of you shared a chill morning consisting of a homemade breakfast, packing, taking Felix for a walk, and simply enjoying the other’s presence before Auston had to leave.

And that time came up way too fast.

“I’m going to miss you,” Auston said in the parking lot of the Ford Performance Centre before pulling you in for a hug. You were dropping him off for his last team practice before going into the bubble, but you both knew it’d be the last time the two of you would see each other for a while.

“I’m going to miss you too, so much,” you replied and squeezed him a little tighter. “Even though you’ll be only a few blocks away.”

“It sure won’t feel like it.”

“I know.”

Gradually, some of Auston’s teammates started walking by, and you knew one of you would have to pull away sooner or later. Reluctantly, you were the first to do it.

“You’re gonna be late, Matts,” Mitchy stated as he walked by juggling his suitcase and bags he planned on taking into the bubble. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, Mitch,” you smiled as you leaned back against your car, Auston’s hands still on your waist. “Is Steph still here?”

“She’s just about to leave, I think. Are you two still hanging out this week?”

“Yeah, I’ll probably take Felix over to your house to hang out with Zeus while we watch the game and drink some wine.”

“Sounds like a typical night for you two,” he chuckled and adjusted one of the straps of his bags. “Anyways, I gotta get in there. Actually, we both do.”

He gave Auston a pointed look, and your boyfriend just rolled his eyes.

“Get off my back. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Yeah, ok,” Mitch responded and started walking again. “See ya, Y/N!”

“Bye, Mitch, good luck!” You called after him before looking back to Auston and smiling at him sadly. “You really do need to get going.”

“I know,” he sighed and began picking up his bags so he could start heading towards the building. “I’ll call you tonight once I’m settled in?”

“Yes, please do,” you replied as he looked to you and nodded. “Just give me a heads up when. I’m supposed to Facetime your sisters tonight to give them a Felix update and catch up.”

“Fair enough,” he smiled, to which you returned before pulling him in for one last kiss. 

“You’re going to do great, Auston. I love you.”

“And I love you,” he pecked your lips again. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sounds good,” you said as he began walking away. “Good luck, babe.”

At that, he smiled to you over his shoulder before continuing on his way. You stood there for a moment after he disappeared out of sight, clutching onto the little 34 necklace he had gifted you for Christmas two years prior, before sighing and climbing into your car so you could head back home. 

~*~

After Auston entered the bubble, the two of you FaceTimed every day, it wasn’t always planned, sometimes just in the spur of the moment when you were both bored and missing each other, and it really did make the whole transition a lot easier. 

The first night, Auston gave you a virtual tour of the Leafs floor at the Fairmont. Then, he told you all about the practice and how the guys chirped him for bringing so many clothes. You couldn’t help but laugh, seeing as you knew it was true, before asking you about your day. Your day was much less eventful, so the topic of conversation shifted rather quickly. You somehow ended up playing Mario Kart on the switch from your living room against Tyson, Kerf and Freddie, all while still on FaceTime with Auston. After a few rounds of that, you were more than ready to call it a night. 

Once you had said goodbye to Auston, you curled up in bed with Felix and soon passed out. 

That quickly became a routine almost every night the Leafs didn’t have a game. You and Auston would catch up about the day’s events before getting into some friendly competition with the guys over something that would sometimes involve other wives or girlfriends trying to keep their men at bay as well. 

On the nights the Leafs did play, you always watched the game in some way. You watched their exhibition game against Montreal with Steph at her house, FaceTimed Auston’s family while watching the first game against Columbus from the condo, and so on.  

You witnessed Auston’s goal against the Blue Jackets in Game 2 and couldn’t wait to express how proud you were of him once the two of you were able to talk again that night. You also got to see the 3-0 lead the Leafs lost in Game 3 and listened to your boyfriend vent about it, but still made sure to tell him that you were insanely proud, because you were. 

And then Game 4 happened. 

Going into that game, you didn’t know what to expect, think, or feel. Obviously, you wanted the Leafs to win. You didn’t want their (sort of) playoff run to be over so soon, but also, the selfish part of you couldn’t help but think about how there was a chance Auston might be home that night. The conflict you felt made you anxious for the actual game, which is why you opted to watch it at home alone with Felix. 

You sat on the couch, clutching onto a cushion for the entire game. Before the game started, you decided that although you would have loved for Auston to be home, you wanted the Leafs to push a Game 5. You knew they were capable of going much further than just the qualifying round and were rooting hard for them to win. Still, you gradually became a little less hopeful leading into the last four minutes of the game when Columbus was up 3-0. 

But then Willy scored. Less than a minute later so did John, and then Zach managed to tie up the game with just 22 seconds left on the clock. To say you were on the edge of your seat would’ve been an understatement because it was so much more intense than that. You didn’t think what was happening was real, but the flood of texts you received from friends and family about what happened proved you wrong. 

During the commercial break, you called Ema, Auston’s mom, who was absolutely losing her mind. You stayed on the phone with her, talking with Auston’s family as your heart pounded in your chest while for overtime to begin. 

Then Auston scored the game-winning goal, and you literally screamed. You stood up, staring at the TV in complete awe while his teammates engulfed your boyfriend, and all the Columbus players skated off the ice. Felix looked at you oddly, and you wasted no time in picking him up and pointing to the screen, telling him what his dad just did. 

After the reality of what just happened settled in, you said your goodbyes to Auston’s family before texting Steph and some other friends, still losing your mind. You watched the postgame interviews, chuckling at how it was undeniable that even Auston still hadn’t entirely accepted what happened and couldn’t wait until you received the call from him you knew was coming. 

About half an hour later, your phone rang, and sure enough, it was Auston.

“I am so proud of you,” you stated as soon as the FaceTime call connected. Auston was walking down the hallway of their hotel floor, smiling widely, and you could see some of his teammates in the background on the phone with loved ones as well. “All of you. Holy fuck, you guys did that!”

“It still doesn’t seem real,” Auston responded. “Like this is real, right? I didn’t dream it?”

“It’s real, babe, you’re going to Game 5!”

“Holy shit.”

You could tell he was in his room by that point with the way he flopped on a bed and couldn’t stop smiling. 

“How’s the adrenaline?” You asked and patted the space beside you so that Felix would lay beside you and be in the camera frame.

“Hi buddy,” Auston breathed out, before chuckling. “And oh, it’s pumping. I think I’m going to be up for a while after this.”

“Then what are you doing in your room? Go celebrate with the guys.”

“I know, I will. But I wanted to say goodnight to you first.”

You smiled at how soft he was even after such a significant game, and couldn’t help the blush that burned across your cheeks. 

“You’re too sweet,” you said while shaking your head.

“Only for you,” he replied and sat up as someone knocked on his door. 

“I think you’re being summoned,” you laughed as he rolled his eyes.

“It’s Mitchy telling me to get out of my room.”

“I think you better listen before they barge in.”

“True,” he responded. “I guess I will go. I’ll call you tomorrow? We’re off for the day.”

“I’ll be here,” you answered him softly. “Now, go be with your team, and don’t forget to call your mom.”

“Oh, yes, right, I’ll do that right now. I love you. Thank you for always supporting me.”

“And I love you, babe, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Ok, bye,” he replied and blew you a quick kiss just before the call ended. 

You stared at your screen for a minute until it went dark and shook your head. Your heart was bursting with how proud you were and how much you loved your boyfriend, that even you weren’t sure if you’d be able to fall asleep right away. After scrolling through social media for a bit and liking every Maple Leafs post that showed up in your timeline, you eventually called it a night and set your phone down.

Just as you did that, though, your phone buzzed with a goodnight text from Auston.

Auston

Sleep tight. I love you.x 

You laid there, smiling at the device for a moment before texting back.

Y/N 

I love you more. Goodnight Auston.x

Auston 

Not possible

Your heart swelled as you read over his last message multiple times before deciding what to text back.

Y/N

Bet. 

Now go, babe. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you.

Auston

Love you too <3

After shutting your phone off again, you finally let yourself relax even while being overcome by an emotional wave of just how much you loved your boyfriend. You knew that whether or not Auston came home after Game 5, the two of you would be ok. The distance hadn’t affected anything, and you knew it wouldn’t even if the Leafs did make it to the finals, and you and Auston were separated for a long time. It’d all be worth it in the end, and you couldn’t wait to see how the rest of the Leafs playoff run was bound to play out.

Hello friends! Somehow I managed to write this in a day, anyways, I’d love to hear what you think! And Go Leafs!

[leafs-lover]

Because Two People Got Drunk: 4

Series Masterlist

Summary: You and Fred begin to figure out your friendship moving forward, or you thought you did.

Warning: Swearing, smut, unprotected sex

Word Count: 1,866

May 10, 2021

You haven’t heard from Fred since that day.  You don’t know if he is coming but sitting in the empty exam room you realize he may not be. The doctor opens the door. “Hi (Y/N). How are you doing, any morning sickness, hormonal changes?" 

 “Yes and yes! The morning sickness was really bad for a few weeks, like all day every day but it seems to be dying down. Still have it sometimes but it’s not as frequent. But I find my hormones off the wall some days.” 

 “All very normal. But the hormonal changes will likely get worse" you groan “you’re approaching you’re second trimester so the morning sickness should subside, but…that’s when a woman’s sex drive normally goes into high gear, urges all the time…” the door flies open. 

 “Sorry was caught at work, I’m Fred the father” he sticks his hand out. 

 “We were just getting started, if you want to take a seat" she points to the chair beside the table. As he hits down you shift in your chair, you smell his cologne mixed with sweat, intoxicating. She lifts your gown pouring some cold jelly on your stomach and begins moving the wand. She stops and points to the screen “this is your baby" flicking on button “and this is its heart beat, sounds good and healthy." 

 Fred’s absent mindlessly grabs your hand. You sit there barely listening to the doctor as you focus on the heartbeat. She hands you each a picture “If you don’t have any questions then I will see you at your next appointment and good luck with what we talked about." 

 With that the doctor leaves the room and Fred stares at you “I need to get dressed” you whisper to Fred “and I need my hand back." He releases your hand and gets up and leaves the room. You walk into the waiting room and see Fred there he gets up to leave with you “Can we go somewhere and talk, maybe grab a coffee” you nod. 

 “I wanted to apologize for how I reacted last time. It was a lot to process all at once.”

 “It’s okay” you respond.  

 “No it wasn’t” he exclaims. “So what was the doctor talking about at the end? The good luck thing?” A light blush comes across your face “oh nothing” you respond.

 “Are you sure? If there’s something going on with the baby I feel like I should know” he says getting offended.

“Oh no, it’s nothing with baby it’s just stuff with hormones.” He doesn’t look convinced. “I promise it’s just something that every woman has to deal with when they’re pregnant it’s not a big deal if it was anything with the baby I would let you know right away.” Fred lets it go, but you can tell he still has questions.

_______________________________________________________________

Mushrooms?” He questions. “I thought most women crave pickles or ice cream.” 

 “Yeah I know it’s weird they have to be cooked though, grilled, fried, baked, in a sauce, no sauce doesn’t matter just as long as it’s cooked. Like every meal I eat has to have mushrooms, sometimes I just eat mushrooms as a snack. I know its super weird.” You laugh.

 Fred and you have been talking a little bit since the last time you saw each other. He’s been checking in on you, your morning sickness and asking a million questions from things he has googled or the book he’s been reading. You are trying to figure out how co-parenting is going to work once the baby is born and having some form of friendship will likely help. 

“But otherwise the appointment went fine. The doctor says that we can probably find out the gender in a few weeks if we want” Fred is silent and you can hear a commotion on the other end. “You okay?”

 “Oh sorry I got to go we’re having an unscheduled team meeting, you know playoff stuff.” 

 “No worries I’ll talk to you later.”  

 ______________________________________________________________    

June 1, 2020

 A few days later Fred’s at your door, with the Leafs recently being eliminated in the second round. “Hey what are you doing here?” He reaches into the bag and pulls out mushrooms, you just laugh letting him into your apartment “I thought I could make you lunch” he says.  

 He looks down to your stomach “wow really popped these last couple of weeks.” 

 “Yeah growing a human does that to a woman.” You laugh, “you can touch it if you want." 

 He walks over “you sure?” you just nod. He slowly takes his hand and places it on your stomach, a smile spreading across his face. You feel wetness pool as you remember the last time his hands were on you and how they felt. How his fingers were in you, with your juices dripping down them, how they felt around your neck. 

 “Have you felt anything, like kicks?” he asks bringing you back.

 “No nothing yet but it’s still kind of early to feel kicks. Likely not for a bit longer, I’ve heard with first pregnancies it can be later on too.” He takes his hand off and turns back to the food. You finally take a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in.

 “How have you been feeling” he asks looking through your cupboards to find what he needs to make food but you get lost staring at him. You can tell the playoffs have taken a toll on them he looks tired with bags under his eyes, but he still looks really good tight t-shirt, khaki shorts. Those second trimester hormones have really kicked in. 

He stops cooking to stare at you waiting for your response you shake your heads “I’m sorry what?” you look at his hand wrapped around the knife.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

 “Yeah sorry these uh hormones, and pregnancy brain, and stuff it’s all bugging me, didn’t realize how badly were until you got here.” He looks almost offended by that comment but keeps cooking. A few minutes later you are on your couch eating stuffed mushroom caps. He still hasn’t said anything. 

 “Remember that thing the doctor mentioned at the last appointment?”  He nods. “Well during the 2nd trimester hormones start to go all over the place, including my sex drive. Like everything turns me on. I’ve tried to deal with it myself” you pause for a minute “but it just isn’t doing it. And it’s not like I can ask someone to help me. I mean who will sleep with a visibly pregnant woman? I just have to deal with it during the pregnancy...” 

 You stop rambling and sit silently finishing your food. You take your plate to the kitchen “why did I say all that “runs through your mind. You sit back down beside Fred, what feels like hours pass before he finally speaks. 

 “Did you ever consider asking the person who got you pregnant to help" his hand resting gently on your thigh sending a shiver up your spine.  “I mean I get not wanting a random person, but I already slept with you once, what’s another time? And from what I remember it was unbelievable. 3? Or was it 4?” He smirks, leaning closer inches from your face now whispering. “I’m sure I can do a better job than what you have been doing yourself.”

 “What if things get complicated? I want us to have a good relationship going forward for when this baby is born.” 

 “When has sex ever made something complicated?” he questions with a smirk. “We can stop at any time. We don’t have to just thought I could help you out" he begins to lean back but you quickly jump to straddle him. His hands go to your hips and you grind against him, feeling him grow hard under you. 

His lips connect with yours as his hands begin to slide up, bringing your shirt off. He slides your bra down, His mouth connects to your nipple, you lean back and groan. His hand making quick work of your bra clasp and his hands slide into your pants and cup your ass. 

 You tear his shirt off and begin kissing his chest, he quickly flips you so you are lying on the couch and undoes your jeans and slides them down. He returns placing soft kisses on your inner thigh and your back arches forward. 

 Fred chuckles, coming up to you and kissing you. One of his hands goes to your hardened nipple and begins massaging it as he deepens the kiss. Your hands rake down his back. His hand slips down into your underwear sliding it over your clit as he feels your wetness “you weren’t lying, you need this bad.” 

“Fuck you have no idea.” 

 He uses his 2 fingers to play with your folds gently opening you up and uses his other hand to pull your underwear down. He slips two fingers in, causing you to moan in pleasure as your back lifts. He uses his other hand to apply pressure to your hips to keep you from moving.  His mouth moves to your neck, lightly biting you, as his fingers continue to fuck you increasing the pace. “You gonna cum for me babygirl?”  

“Close" you respond. He picks up the pace, his mouth moving back to your nipple swirling around it. His thumb comes up to rub your clit sending you over the edge.  

His fingers slowly leave you as you come down from your high. He removes his belt and pulls his pants and boxers down. You reach to stroke his dick and he grabs your wrist “this is all about you, and making sure you feel good" he says. 

He returns over you and kisses you lightly and he shows you a condom “Do I need this?” 

“Well you already got me pregnant” you chuckle. “And since I’m pregnant I’m not sleeping with anyone else” 

 “I haven’t since before we were last together” he says dropping the condom on the floor. 

 He lines himself up and pushes into you. You moan loudly, you had forgotten how large he was, how he stretched you out before. He slowly pulls out and pushes back in, a whimper leaving you. 

He continues this slow pace and your hands grab onto his shoulder, holding him close to you as he begins to speed up. 

“Fuck.” He pulls out and slams back in “Oh fuck! Yes!” his pace is very fast now as you begin to grip his back hard. You can feel his thrusts getting sloppy so you reach down and begin to stimulate your clit. 

Danish swear words spill out of his mouth as he slams into you “Fuck let go. I want to see you" he snarls as his mouth connects to your nipple gently biting. 

 You come undone around him. You clench and lean your head back. Shortly after you feel yourself fill up with Fred’s warmth as he collapses onto you. A few moments later after you’ve both caught your breath, he pulls out and looks down at you.

 “So did this help?”

“You have no idea" 

Next Chapter

[zashamalkin]

Geno, on goaltending and his contract.

Pittsburgh forward Evgeni Malkin shared his opinion on the changes in the club's goalkeeper line.

“You can't compare Murray's departure with Fleury. Count yourself how many years we played together in the club. He left Pittsburgh in 2017. And before that, we spent 12 seasons together. You can say we grew up together - with Crosby, and with Fleury, and with Letang. And the four of us became three-time Stanley Cup winners with Pittsburgh. These are the closest people to me - they were and are.

Of course Murray became our main goalkeeper. He has already begun to show himself, we won the championship title twice. But I won't say that I was with Matt as close as I was with Fleury. There is a rather tangible difference.

I would like to believe that Jerry can handle it. After all, we play in the same team. I really want Tristan to have his best season and to really pull. The hockey goalkeeper is half the team. Not trivial words at all. Especially in the playoffs.

You yourself saw how Anton Khudobin and Andrei Vasilevsky turned on during difficult moments in the final. They really pulled their teams. And what Dobby did is a real sporting feat.

Because Dallas had a lot of injuries. I talked to Alexander Radulov and he told me that many of their main hockey players played with serious injuries. Well, Khudobin really did. Yes, a lot depends on the goalkeeper in modern hockey, ”Malkin said.

Pittsburgh forward Yevgeny Malkin said that he did not negotiate with the NHL club management about a new contract.

His current agreement is valid until 2022.

“I don't know where this information about three years came from. Who launched it? I have not yet had a conversation with Pittsburgh management about a new contract.

Maybe it will happen after this season, when I have the last year left and it will be possible to negotiate. And the remaining two years is a decent amount of time. We need to play hockey, and then how it goes.

I am not saying that I am not satisfied with three years. I just don't know where that rumor came from. If the management of Pittsburgh really plans to do this, it will be great, ”Malkin said.

November 24, 2020

X, X

[intothewoodsfest]

Hi everyone,

We’re really happy about the great response our fest  is receiving/. and see our follower count thriving!  We got 29 prompts so far and seven of them are already claimed. Of course, it’s not necessary to claim a prompt to participate. You can just post a story of your own choosing into the collection. And if you’re feeling ambitious, you can claim more than one prompt. 

Below you find the list of the unclaimed prompts. If one tickles your fancy, go to AO3 and claim it. 

Have fun and stay safe! 

Unclaimed prompts so far

Connor McDavid/Matthew Tkachuk

Summary: Connor and Matthew are friendly. They have plenty of friends in common, and sometimes they train together in the summer. After one such summer, they decide to rent a cabin for one last vacation before they have to go back to their separate cities for the season.

They go as friends, but maybe there’s been something simmering between them for awhile, and with no one but each other for company, it’s easy to give into their feelings.

(Bonus points for Lenny coming along too!)

Leon Draisaitl/Connor McDavid

Summary: They totally quarantined in some cabin (aspen maybe) away from the world. Whether they were together when the made the plans or they got together once they got away from the pressure of the hockey media and expectations, I would just love some mcdrai. We already know they like to ski and hot tub together in remote winter locations !

Connor McDavid/Dylan Strome

Summary: do not know how they’d plausibly get snowed in somewhere together, but like if they did, it would probably be a great time to work out some feelings. And fuck out some feelings. With the fun side note of being stuck together in the cabin (cuddle for warmth??)

Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin

Summary:  AU-ish. Jamie is the Captain of an NHL Team, taking the Summer to rent a Cabin in the woods to relax after a busy season.

Tyler is a ‘super fan’ who got a tip off that the hottest player on his favourite team will be renting a cabin, so rents the cabin next door, hoping to ‘accidentally’ meet Jamie.

Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin

Summary: During the off season Tyler shows up uninvited to Jamie’s lake house. He’s decided that this is the Summer he gets his man.

Brady Tkachuk/Quinn Hughes (or any other pairing)

Summary: Two families have cabins next to each other on a lake. These characters are each from one family and see each other every summer around the same time of year, but they don't really see each other outside of the summer. Sort of childhood friends to lovers but over the course of their summers.

Would love to see this with Brady Tkachuk/Quinn Hughes, but it would work for a lot of pairings

Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick

Summary: Established Relationship. TK and Nolan decide to rent a hunting and/or fishing cabin for a few weeks to get away from, well, there's a lot to get away from in 2020. Could be set pre or post playoff bubble. They just need some time for themselves, spending hours on the lake, living the quiet, simple life. Cuddles, chirps, and TK's life goal of making Nolan laugh.

Brock Boeser/Elias Pettersson

Summary: At the end of the season, Brock accidentally finds out (from Quinn?) that Elias is in love with him. When he finally gets Elias to visit him at his lake house in Minnesota, he tries to let Elias know that he's interested without directly saying it. Elias meanwhile is so distracted by worrying that he doesn't fit in with Brock's Minnesota friends that he has no idea Brock is flirting with him.

Poly: Cole Caufield, Jack Hughes, Trevor Zegras, Spencer Knight

Summary: ‘19 ndtp get snowed in while doing a team building program (not stranded, have communication with coaches and everything, no injuries, just snowed in). cue idiot boys being oblivious, varying levels of heat via nationality, and way too much napping. and someone inevitably falling in a frozen lake. (tags limited me. i don’t care who. it can be poly for all i care.)

Ben Bishop/Anton Khudobin

Summary: Anton takes Ben to his cabin in russia on the off season because... he can. Ben isn't prepared for actually how cold it is there, and Anton is all so happy to help him out. chaotic fluff ensures

this is a cry for more khudobish fics

New Jersey Devils Ensemble

Summary: Maybe renting a cabin in the Pine Barrens isn’t the best idea, when there’s a 300 year old monster lurking in the woods. Or is it?

(The Devils’ season isn’t going well, so during the bye week a couple of guys decide that renting a cabin and summoning their namesake, the Jersey Devil, is exactly what they need to jumpstart their second half. How it goes is up to you!)

Carolina Hurricanes Ensemble

Summary: rare pair friends-to-lovers go to person A's cabin for (insert span of time) and get lost in the forest. a gaggle of cryptids, hand holding, and a few kisses later they make it out of the forest and back to the cabin. talks about feelings and a few more kisses later, its time to go home 😔

Philadelphia Flyers Ensemble

Summary: I'm envisioning a large majority of the flyers org in a cabin in the woods doing cabiny shit and all around just being generally stupid and loving their team and what not. kind of like a "guys weekend" vibe or a "last horah" before the season starts. i imagine a lot of weird side plots. some one gets lost. this is not entirely helpful and i'm very sorry. but i just basically am saying i would love a chaotic flyers ensemble story where they're in a cabin and lots of shenanigans its ensuing.

Unspecified Pairing

Player A, a North American, is kind of tired of hearing Player B, a European, drone on and on and on and on about how great their homeland is. When Player B suggests off-hand that Player A should come visit in the off-season, Player A accepts, if only to get B to stfu about it finally.

Turns out that their homeland is actually pretty nice. Turns out they're also a little in love.

Could be any pairing, but here are a few suggestions: Nico Hischier, any of the Swedes (Brock/Petey??), Sid/Geno. There could also be roadtrip shenanigans (maybe a camper van??)

Unspecified Pairing

Summary: The off-season is usually a time for summer cabin fun. When player A is injured and requires surgery, he spends time recouperating at Player B's cabin. Player B takes on the caring nursing role and feelings develop. 

Unspecified Pairing: 

Summary: The Christmas break is too short to go home to Europe, so these two players rent a cottage somewhere on the beach instead. Bonus if they do this every year.

Unspecified Pairing

Summary: BDSM OR ABO au where no one knows player A is a sub/omega so his week(s) at the cabin is his only time to truly be a sub (or have his heat)(maybe he just kneels by himself or it’s in a town no one know who he is so he finds doms) His plans get ruined when his dom teammate (maybe a rookie, or someone who just got traded but they hit it off) invites himself for and figures out player A’s biggest secret while also helping him out

Unspecified Pairing

Summary: outdoor sex by the fire that’s it that’s the prompt ps lawn chairs are not very sturdy and may snap

Unspecified Pairing

Summary: AU where one is a hockey player and rents out a cabin after a truly embarrassing season (maybe the worst in franchise history and they're blaming themselves -- they're the captain or supposed to be the team's superstar or whatever you choose) because they want to be completely off the grid/out of the city and unreachable. What they don't know is that the cabin comes with a blunt, outdoorsy handyman living down the street, always working in the garden and on the dock and who seems to do everything in their power just to make things more difficult.

Enemies to tentative friends to lovers.

Unspecified Pairing

Summary: Enemies to lovers. Two rival NHL players, through some sort of clerical error, end up booking the same cabin. The both refuse to leave and end up sharing the cabin for the week.

Also could be break up/make up as long as it's very 🤬😒 at the beginning

Gritty (Hockey RPF)

Summary: A group of hockey players rents a cabin together in the Poconos for a week of fun and fishing. Too bad they don't know about the forest creature...

[that-soccer-guru]

I remember watching the semi finals and finals of the 2019 WC but I didn't really get invested into woso until mid january 2020 so I'm kinda confused on how the qualifying process works (both for WC and olympics) Over quarantine I spent a lot of time watching uswnt games from mid/late 2018 leading up to the WC, and late 2019 games leading up to olympics but I'm still confused because there's like 3 training camps, a believing tournament thingy (?) and then a qualifying tournament. I guess with all the games and rosters moving around I get confused. How does the qualifying process work and is She Believes a part of the process or...?

Hey there, this is a great question. Everytime I say that you should expect a long ass post, so buckle up.

The number of camps and stuff does not really make a difference. Every national team can hold as many camps as they want, provided their players are released by the clubs. For players in the international market, teams usually won't release them except for FIFA dates (friendly games or qualifying events), because they don't want their players risking unnecessary injuries or strains. This is why for the US at least it's good that a chunk of their NT core plays in the nwsl, since the NT allocated players aren't paid or under contract by their league teams and can therefore be called up whenever USSF/the USWNT feels like it—horrible for the health of the league and a big reason why NT players do whatever the hell they want with their trades and make it miserable for their teams when it comes to trading season—but I digress.

Olympics qualifiers work like this: There's 12 teams in total. The hosts of the Olympics automatically qualify for a spot and the other 11 spots are up for grabs and they qualify through tournaments in their continental confederations:

1 goes to CONMEBOL (South America): the spot is decided with the winner of Copa America—more later on the runner up

2 to CONCACAF (Central and North America): through Olympic qualifier tournament.

1 to the CAF (Africa): with Olympic qualifier tournament—more later on the runner up

1 to OFC(Oceania): with the Nations Cup

2 to the AFC (Asia ft Australia): Olympic Qualifier Tournament, top 2 teams qualify—they also have one representative already with Japan being the host

3 go to UEFA: these spots are decided by who made it the furthest in the world cup. The current Olympic Gold Champions, Germany, won't be able to defend their medal since they got knocked out by Sweden. There's also a little part where Britain secured their spot BUT according to IOC rules of membership Britain doesn't qualify as a country, its the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. Therefore, Scottish, Irish and Welsh players are available for the GB Olympic Roster, not just the Lionesses roster.

That leaves us with:

UEFA: the UK, Sweden and the Netherlands are qualified for the Olympics and gold medal winners Germany will have to watch from home.

CONMEBOL: Brazil won Copa América and therefore qualified for the CONMEBOL spot. The runner up, Chile, will go to a playoff game with the runner up of the CAF qualifying tournament.

CONCACAF: No surprises here, the US and Canada qualified through the Olympic tournament. This is NOT Shebelieves which is just a tournament the US hosts that has no bearing on Olympic standings.

CAF: Zambia placed first in the Olympic qualifier and earned their spot right away. The runner up, Cameroon, will move on to a playoff game with Chile.

OFC: New Zealand won the Nation's cup and therefore qualified for the Olympics.

AFC: Again no surprises, Australia qualified for the Olympics by placing first in the qualifying tournament. The 2nd spot will be a tie-breaking game between South Korea and China, and whoever wins will be the runner up for the AFC qualifiers and therefore the 2nd qualified for this confederation (third if you count Japan which, again, qualified automatically since they're hosting the Olympics)

CONMEBOL-CAF PLAYOFF: Chile and Cameroon are scheduled to play mid/late February to decide which team gets to go to the Olympics from these two confederations.

This thing is already getting long but every confederation has its own rules to qualify and certain number of spots, the host nation doesn't count towards the spots, and it works the same way for the World Cup Qualifiers which I know you kind of asked about but this seemed more pressing? if you want me to break that one down (and it's more extensive bc there's 32 spots, not 12) I Def can! Thanks for the question