#HIS YEAR END ROUND UPS.. HIS HOCKEY DUMPS.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

getmemymicroscope · 6 months ago

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Excitement, Somewhat

Growing up, I used to love sports. Some of this was a part of being a loner in a state where I was a clear outsider, some of it was because of the cyclical "think about sports -> loner -> more time to think about sports -> more loner."

I watched basketball, and baseball, and football, and occasionally soccer (world cup), and, as I grew up a bit more, cricket (world cup), and parts of the Olympics, and ice hockey. I played sports video games, A LOT (MVP Baseball; Madden, even the one with the 'vision cone' - which I loved!; NBA Live; Blades of Steel; FIFA; NCAA Football; NCAA March Madness, that 1 time; this random PC cricket game that required MS-DOS that we got from India on a floppy disk; whatever that android-based football game was for the original Nintendo system that was damn near impossible to figure out how to play; Mario Tennis, and Baseball, and Kart). ... In fact, pretty much every video game we owned growing up sports related (except, I guess, a couple of Pokemon games).

And I absolutely LOVED NBA and NFL draft season. Like, as much as I sorta enjoyed the games (made harder because the teams I rooted for sucked, and mostly still do suck*), the best part was the off-season and the draft (well, except for the fact that it took forever to reach and then immediately ended and left a giant swathe of empty time). Even in the sports video games, I cared less about playing the actual game and more about the team-building through drafting and free agency and trades.

At some point, probably around the time of undergrad, this love started dying. Some of it was just getting busy with other stuff (okay, that didn't really happen til I got to med school), but mostly it was things like seeing how horribly biased the officiating was (the fact that a 'foul' wasn't a foul if you were a superstar was always ridiculous to me), plus the move towards team automatically 'tanking' halfway through a season and not even trying to win, plus annoyance of the same teams winning over and over again (I do believe parity should be present, but I realize some of this was just that some teams never fully tried; but this was made worse by the biased officiating) - especially my chosen teams being utter hell. I remember, in particular, one game early in my undergrad career where my team essentially won a close game on a tough play at the end, but the star on the other team essentially glared at the official until he called a foul and allowed for free throws (and an eventual overtime win for the bad guys), and another instance years before that before another superstar committed a foul but was allowed to get away with it to win a game for his team. Beyond that, I'm not ashamed to say that I rooted for some teams that were perfectly happy with their "never gonna win it all" status quo - one team at least had playoff aspirations every where, whilst another was clearly just a way for the owner to make some dough without spending a cent (and remains so).

That second team did have a brief bit of limited glory (early playoff exits) around the time I got into med school, but it had been so long that even an early playoff exit was exciting. But since then, they've gone back to the dumps. But that, combined with the realities of med school, essentially crushed any interest I had in sports.

In fact, aside from like the Super Bowl (with friends), my watching is essentially now limited to World Cup soccer and/or cricket, a bit of tennis. the early rounds of March Madness, occasionally a hockey playoff game, and, in the case of one 3 month span where I couldn't find much else to do, curling. I'll occasionally watch a bit of 'Red Zone' football, mostly cuz I have some friends who are big fans and I like talking to them about it. (Keeping in my tradition about loving the off-season, I actually spend more time reading about the transactional stuff than the actual games most of the time.) Noticeably absent - NBA and MLB, which were my 2 favorite ones growing up (also, funnily enough, the ones with by far the worst/most biased officiating). And also college football, which I used to love before it turned into the SEC-biased fuck-fest that it is today.

But this all comes up because recently, I turned on a WNBA game. Caitlin Clark, of course, against the LA Sparks (her team's first win of the season, as it turned out).

In the end, it was a close game. I had only turned it on in the 4th quarter - so I didn't know at the time that she was like 0-7 or 1-8 or whatever from downtown at that point. But as the clock wound down, I said to my wall (still with the being a loner - I guess some things never change) "she's gonna make one now" - and she promptly, of course, hit one of her calling card long-distance shots. A few minutes later, she did the same thing again (another 1 I told my wall was coming before it did). And that level of excitement I felt when she hit those shots...!

Now, of course she's good and that adds to the excitement a bit - if it was me out there, I think people would just be like "what the fuck, bench that loser!" But like, that level of excitement is something I haven't felt in/from the NBA, or MLB (or honestly, even the NFL, which again might be a bit of a parity thing combined with questionable officiating that has become the norm), or college football in a long, long while. Seeing her hit those shots, though - even as someone who hasn't watched the WNBA since the local team left my at-the-time home state years ago and as someone who definitely doesn't having a rooting interest, team-wise - was absolutely awesome. It was honestly just enthralling, the type of thing you'd want to talk to your friends about and watch again (if, you know, they weren't of the mindset that the WNBA is shit), the type of stuff you'd want to watch on repeat.

The type of excitement I haven't felt in a sporting even since the time a player on my team hit a shot to send them to the finals for the first time ever, or when I correctly predicted a Super Bowl onside kick (though that was admittedly more about my accurate prediction than the actual play), or the Sosa/McGwire home run chase (steroids be damned - that was a level of excitement the MLB has not been able to garner in YEARS, and to deny them the Hall of Fame when they literally saved your sport back then is fucking stupid as fuck).

Like, literally - baseball was all but dead - and they made it a nightly thing. You'd turn on the game games to watch them get one swing closer to the mark - the contest between them literally brought baseball into the households of millions. And now, not only are they not in the Hall of Fame, but we have to deal with whatever the fuck this nonsense umpiring is (literally, they seem to be getting worse by the minute, and more power-hungry by the minute as well) plus this NBA-level bullshit (or '90s NY-level bullshit) of a few big teams literally buying all the big-name players.

At some point, I'll make a list, for sure. But just that feeling of watching Caitlin Clark make those shots - maybe it was because it's her first win, maybe it is just because I'm starved to watch and care for some basketball again now that the NBA is all but dead to me - is the most excited I've been by a sporting moment in quite a while.

That level of excitement from sports has been missing from my life for a long, long time (and even when something happens, the overall exciting moments have been delayed for me, like India winning the cricket world cup whilst I was literally in the middle of microbiology course final in undergrad). I think I could get used to that again. Now I just need to find a sport that hasn't been completely ruined by bad and/or biased officiating, lack of parity amongst teams/leagues, or whatever the fuck is going on with college football (lets just ban the stupid conference, life would be better for everyone that way).

#GMMM does sports #sports

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himbeaux-on-ice · 2 years ago

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i am. feeling a little sad about max. this week.

idk, just. to be one of those players who plays for the sheer overwhelming joyful love of the game, but is also intensely, extremely competitive, and to have been sidelined by flukey injuries three times last season and still kept pushing and coming back, because you've never let bad injury luck stop you before. and in the games you do play you are producing at the absolute best rate of your career, but you can't be in enough games and the team founders in part as a result of your absence, and even though you come back for the stretch and you keep scoring and scoring despite everything, it's not enough. the team misses the playoffs. you avow that you believe the squad you have can run it back next season healthy and do the big things that were expected, can come back and win. you ask for this chance at redemption. you do nothing but say you believe.

and your team, the team that made you re-discover your love of hockey after a miserable couple years and which you do nothing but sing the praises of the entire franchise and city, the team that you scored more goals for than anyone else while you were there, the team you wrote an entire essay about being so excited to become a part of, the team you call family, unceremoniously trades you away for less than nothing, as a salary dump because they were stupid, paying a team to take you by adding in a young defenceman too.

you pack up and move your family, your young kids who are deeply embedded in the local youth hockey community and your wife, out of the city you said you fell in love with, that you said fit so well, that you made your year-round home, and across the entire country. you don't come back for your friend's wedding (the kid who was traded with you does). you don't say goodbye to the fans. your agent says you saw it coming for a while, because of your contract, because of the cap mess, because this is what this team does (because they did it to his last client too). you say you're just looking forward now, not back, you're excited to take part in things with your new team and getting to know your new city. you say you're 100% healthy for the first time in a while. you say you're better off without everything about your old team that you said you loved so much just a few months ago, you say that all that stuff that was so good and kind of them made you weak actually. you say you're looking forward to skating with your new teammates. you go skating in your new jersey and borrowed gloves.

you immediately tear your acl and have to get surgery that will sideline you into the new year, six months, no skating. your old team suffers an injury that means they could have afforded to keep you anyway. they use the cap space to replace you with a guy who hasn't missed a game to injury since 2009. you are injured and sitting with your family in a new city thousands of miles away with months without hockey on the horizon. fans of your old team say they dodged a bullet, getting rid of your fragile self when they did. your old friend turns down money from the team that just threw you away to come and join you. the kid who you were traded to your second team in exchange for, who ended your last playoff run with a thud, takes up the captaincy that you once had, what feels like a lifetime ago - when you wore that letter for the first time you cried with pride, and then stood tall through three years of people saying you should be stripped of it for being too sensitive, too weak. 'i stood up there with a gun to my head every day and i took it. i'm proud of myself for doing so'.

the people who were your best friends in the world and your second family six months ago talk around your name in interviews, talk as if nothing major has been lost, as if you just vanished into thin air. everyone in the news talks about you in "maybes" and "ifs" and past-tense, when they remember to talk about you at all. the season is on the horizon and you still won't skate for months now. the athletic top 100 players list comes out and this year you've fallen right off of it. the nhl network top 50 comes out and you're not anywhere on it at all. you are 33 years old, 34 soon, battered and bruised and covered in scars and you've been through nearly unimaginable things and been written off and come back before. when they speak of you they say that maybe you're getting too old to keep pulling off the magic healing trick anymore, they say you're in the latter years of your career. the teammates who you came into the league with as young men are retiring, stepping back, waiting for contracts that might not come - they are getting old. fourteen seasons is such a long, long time.

you built your career up from absolutely nothing on the back of just sheer deep abiding love of the game, you accomplished so many genuinely impressive things (captain, olympian, 800 games, 600 points, 300 goals, lead your team in goals for half a decade, 40th most points by an american-born player ever and 22nd most goals), you came back from the unimaginable, you held up unimaginable weight upon your shoulders, you took torrents of abuse, you stayed kind through all of it, despite.

you still don't have a cup. you always get shown the door from these cities you fall in love with, always because of someone else's mistakes, always 'it's not you, it's me'. you've never been given a truly long-term contract, at least not one that pays you fair; you're nearly 34 now and that means that you never will. you have a happy family whom you dote on, you have a career you can already be so proud of. you still don't have a cup. you still don't have a cup.

the first time you ever stepped on the ice with skates on, you instantly fell down and cut your chin open. your mother, a mexican immigrant who had never skated in her life, took you home crying and thought you wouldn't ever want to do it again. the next day you asked to go back. she bought you a helmet with a face cage, and back to the ice you went anyway, despite.

the first time you ever played hockey, after signing up on a whim, you took a penalty on your very first shift and the ref had to help you to the penalty box because you didn't know how to skate. you fell down all over the place. it was embarrassing. you kept going back anyway. you kept going, kept learning, kept playing, until you got drafted as a first-round pick, despite.

when you were twenty-two years old, the largest player in the entire league put your head into an aluminum turnbuckle that braced up a pane of unforgiving hard-plate glass, the old-fashioned stuff, going full speed. when you hit it, it sounded like a gunshot. when you hit the ice, some people thought you might be dead. when they stretchered you off with a broken neck and a concussion, almost nobody thought that you would play hockey again. you sat at home rehabbing and watched the guy who hit you hoist the stanley cup. you returned to the ice six months after the hit and broke out for the best damn season of your career to that point, leading your team in scoring and only going up and up and up from there, despite.

this is what you do. this is who you are. you will take it on the chin, get up, wipe the blood off, and keep going, despite all doubters. you always get up. you always keep going, despite, despite, despite. even as it gets harder and harder to prove that to everyone, harder and harder to make your patchwork body get back up. to prove that you're not done yet. not yet.

the season that should be your fifteenth is starting without you. the hockey world moves on and forgets you. your spot is filled by younger, healthier, faster, cheaper, by committee, by anyone else but you. four more months, four more months. you play the waiting game and hope that there will be no setbacks, that when you get back to play you won't have to start this cycle all over again. you still don't have a contract past this season. four more months, four more months, four more months. fifteen years.

you still don't have a cup.

#apologies i just. had to exorcise this somewhere.#was brewing for about a week but the athletic list hit some kind of nerve today #max pacioretty #god this isn't even comprehensive. like i actually left stuff out. jesus christ #i hope he's doing okay. i really do. i really really do

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cc-tinslebee · 3 years ago

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Okay, so, about a month ago, my brain just conjured up probably the most random au possible: Legally Blonde Adam Banks/banksway au.

Believe me, it's as chaotic as it sounds, but lowkey, I'm kind of in love with it.

Adam never joins the Ducks because there aren't any Ducks to join. Bombay never had to do community service with District Five so there was no one to realise that Adam was on the wrong team all along. He continues to play for the Hawks and, eventually, the Eden Hall Warriors, never getting the chance to become the well-rounded individual we know him as because he's never known anything other than his rich privilege and the "win at all costs" mentality. He ends up going to college on a hockey scholarship and not straight to the NHL or the AHL (shocking, I know). While he's unsure of his major and where his life is heading, he finds solace in the fraternity he joins, which, by some sheer twist of fate, Jesse and Guy have also miraculously joined.

And his life is perfect for a while. He's the star player on yet another school's hockey team, all of his fraternity brothers adore him (though, it took a bit for Jesse to warm up to him), and his secret, not-really-official thing with his former teammate is going swimmingly. (Not to slander my boy, but I was picturing Larson for the role of Warner, purely because the alternative seems to be Rick Riley and that's kind of an unsettling image-- though, maybe that's the point?)

But then his secret boyfriend breaks up with him because, with his high aspirations in life, he needs to be "more serious." And dating Adam Banks, a guy in a stereotypical fraternity who only really knows hockey, in 2001 isn't exactly the white-picket-fence life he's looking for if he's going to be a politician.

And since this non-Duck Adam clearly doesn't have the braincells that canon Adam does, in his devastation, he decides it's a brilliant idea to prove that he is serious by applying to Harvard Law. His parents try to talk him out of it, since they want him to pursue his dreams of hockey, but being a lawyer is a respectable career so they can't exactly argue with him.

He gets accepted thanks to Jesse, Guy, and the rest of his fraternity helping him study for the LSAT and keeping him on track. He's trying his darndest when he gets to Harvard, but (despite his struggle not being as significant as Elle Woods'), not a lot of people take him seriously as an aspiring lawyer, considering him a meathead jock who only got in because of daddy's money.

And that's about the time he meets Linda, who he vaguely remembers from his time at Eden Hall. What he doesn't remember is her being so competitive, because she's deliberately beating him at every turn, just trying (and kind of succeeding) at making him look like a fool. To make matters worse, all of the sudden, she's engaged to his ex-boyfriend, who is very adamant about never telling anyone that he and Adam were more than friends (because, you know, early 2000s homophobia and such).

But things get a little brighter for Adam when he meets Charlie, an undergrad teacher's assistant who gives him all sorts of advice about surviving the school. He introduces him to Professor Bombay, who Charlie claims is the only reason he survived his first year and quickly becomes Adam's favourite teacher, and Charlie's childhood friend Connie, who aspires to be a state senator one day. Charlie's charismatic and even if he's not the most well-liked person at Harvard, Adam feels a weight lifted off his shoulders once he becomes friends with him and Connie. Things become a little easier.

Just before he and Charlie start getting really close, Adam meets Casey at a local diner on a day he's feeling particularly upset and alone, and the two start bonding almost immediately. (He bullshits his way into scaring an ex-husband of hers with legal repercussions he has no idea about and she basically adopts him in return.) It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to realise that it's not just a coincidence that Casey and Charlie share the same last name, which results in poor Adam feeling extremely embarrassed for not connecting the dots sooner while Charlie's having the time of his life teasing him for it. Eventually, when the dust of that settles, Charlie and Adam join forces to set Casey and Bombay up, their schemes borderline ridiculous at times, but they'rere not exactly failing.

And after realising he isn't the Warriors moron she thought he was for going on five years, Linda starts warming up to Adam, which is surprisingly nice? She figures out on her own that there used to be something between him and her fiancé, and is more understanding of Adam than she is mad. Linda actually spills to him the lengths Adam's ex had to go through to actually get into Harvard, aligning more with the rumours about Adam's acceptance being bought than having the aptitude for the law that Linda and Adam share. (This may be me saying Linda and Adam friendship rights, what of it-- /lh)

To make things all the better, Bombay chooses Adam, Linda, Connie, Charlie, and Adam's ex to be on his legal team for a murder case he's responsible for (and while he knows about Adam and Charlie's ploys to hook him up with Charlie's mom, they're his favourites, so he doesn't say anything).

And this is just so much better than anything he had before. After all the initial unpleasantness, Linda and Connie become some of the most genuine friends he's ever had. He misses Guy and Jesse, of course, and he'd never take them for granted, but back when he was with them at the fraternity, a part of him was still being as superficial as he had been in middle and high school. Being authentic for once in his life is liberating.

And Charlie's just about the most considerate person Adam's ever met. Adam doesn't even mind when Charlie teases him over his absurd and juvenile insults because he's just this source of light for Adam, supporting him and always pushing him to be the best version of himself. His ex hardly even exists when Charlie's around because his energy is just so contagious that Adam starts falling for him long before he even realises it. (And when Jesse and Guy come to visit, there's a moment where it all clicks and the four of them realise their history together, however brief. I strongly maintain that they'd be that Starkid meme: "Fucking Hawks? We hated you guys!" "We hated ourselves!" But it does make Adam realise how much better off he would've been if he had Charlie and his team when he was little instead of the Hawks, and it just further makes him understand that people like Larson and Rick Riley just aren't worth it.)

But there's also another revelation Adam goes through. Between helping Casey, his rigorous studies, and his position working with/for Bombay, something just clicks for Adam. He likes being able to help people, fighting for the good guys who may not have the resources they need to be properly defended. Practicing law calls to him in the same way hockey did; it's the feeling of knowing this is what he's meant to do. He still loves hockey, he always will, but it helps him finally grasp that there's a world for him outside of it; when hockey ends for him, there's something equally as rewarding that he can pursue, which was something he never thought he would have.

I haven't a single coherent thought about this au past that point except for these little inklings of an ending--

There's absolutely no SA scene like the movie had; Bombay's just Adam and Charlie's favourite teacher and those are his boys, so he's going to make sure they succeed as if his life depends on it.

With that said, Bombay believes in them both enough to let them finish the case because with their joined determination/stubbornness (and Adam's in with the defendant), Adam and Charlie are a force to be reckoned with and he knows it.

After a handful of comedic failures, they do end up succeeding at their attempts to set Casey and Bombay up, and they start living together sometime during the kids' Junior year :) (All I'm asking is for one (1) story with a Casey/Gordon endgame-- I just think they're neat--)

Linda dumps her fiancé (as she should) and goes on to live her best wlw life as a successful lawyer. (If I'm not mistaken, Linda's actress actually is a lawyer, which is a pretty cool fun fact!!)

Adam and Linda's ex gets the Warner ending because, man, screw that guy /lh (rip to Larson if this is him, I'm sure you'll get a nice endgame in some other universe, king)

Honorary mention for Connie, who was going long distance with Guy this entire time to everyone but Jesse's shock, and they get their Game Changers endgame of State Senator Connie Moreau and stay-at-home dad Guy Germaine with their seven -- sorry, three -- children :)

Adam's an absolute bundle of nerves after graduation, which definitely concerns Charlie. So, when he asks if he's okay, Adam starts nervously monologuing about their time together until he runs out of breath. He ends it by proposing to him, and Charlie smiles so surely at him when he says yes. They both become damn good public defenders and stay engaged until the point they can legally get married, but they're practically husbands long before that happens.

Also, if I did my math right (which I should’ve, it’s my entire basis for my Share Your Address series), the Ducks’ would have the same graduating class year as Elle Woods anyway (2004), which is pretty neat!

Thank you once again for listening to me ramble :)

#i just think they're neat that's all--#full disclosure: i have not listened to/seen the musical yet but I have heard very good things about it #adam banks #charlie conway #gordon bombay #linda the mighty ducks #connie moreau #banksway #charlie x adam #the mighty ducks #casey x gordon

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snelbz · 4 years ago

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Light Up the Ice - Chapter 9

A/N: Well. It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? I’m sorry, guys, but this story just...wasn’t coming to me for a while. But now we’re back and I am so excited. Since it has been over a year and a half since I updated this one, please forgive us if there are a few details that aren’t perfect from the first chapters. Feels good to be writing my babies again.

Written with @tacmc.

Rowan woke up to the smell of cooking bacon and fresh coffee and he sighed contentedly. It had been two days since the hit that put him out of commission. He was hoping the rest and relaxation he’d enjoyed with his girlfriend would handle it, but it seemed that his body was protesting its natural healing process.

He groaned as he rolled out of Aelin’s bed, smiling when he found Lumi curled up in the hoodie he’d left in her chair in the corner. After giving her a scratch behind the ears, though the cat pretended he didn’t exist, he padded out into the living room, finding Aelin at the stove quietly humming to herself.

“Good morning,” he said, yawning as he pulled out a bar stool and sat down.

Aelin turned, and he was once agIn floored by how gorgeous she was, straight out of bed. That first night, when the fire alarms had pulled them all from sleep, he’d been convinced she’d scrambled to do her makeup before coming out onto the lawn. Waking up next to her two days in a row had proven to him that she was naturally beautiful and he couldn’t help but stare.

“Good morning,” she smiled and set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. “Hurting today?”

“Aye,” he said, stretching his arms in the air. He felt every muscle tense in his upper body and before he could say the words, Aelin beat him to it.

“I think you need to give the team trainer a call today,” she said, placing a plate full of bacon on the counter next to her.

Rowan stared at it, wanting to reach over and snag a piece, but was fairly sure she’d catch him when he grunted in pain trying to lift it. Plus, she was dumping nearly a dozen eggs into a skillet to scramble, so he was hoping she’d be feeding him soon enough. He nodded. “I was going to do that today. I was texting with him last night and he said he and the massage therapist could come here today.”

Aelin smiled. “That would be perfect. I have to go

to work in about an hour, so I’ll feel better knowing someone is here with you.”

He rolled his eyes. “You do know I’m a grown man, right? Lived on my own for about seven years?”

Aelin stuck out her tongue and continued cooking at the stove, before setting a plate down in front of him piled high with eggs, hashbrowns and crispy bacon.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” He asked, as she slid onto the stool next to him.

She smirked and said, “Once or twice, but don’t worry. I’ve got a drunk voicemail to listen to if I ever forget.”

She winked and Rowan felt his cheeks heat, but regardless, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead and began to eat.

After his second full helping breakfast, Aelin got Rowan set up on the couch, babying him the entire time, much to his dismay, and he sent a text to the trainer asking him to call him when he got to the arena that morning. Aelin was getting ready and Rowan was playing NHL on his Xbox when the trainer finally called him back.

“Hey, man,” Rowan answered, pausing the game and propping the phone between his ear and shoulder.

Dorian’s voice came through the receiver. “How ya feeling?”

Rowan groaned as he rotated one of his shoulders. “Like I got hit by a truck.”

With a snort, Dorian chuckled. “Have you seen most of the Pirates’ team? They’re ridiculous; all of them are huge, freaks of nature. Rolfe is no exception.”

With a nod, Rowan cringed. He hadn’t realized the captain of the Skull’s Bay Pirates had been the one to lay the hit on him. “Well, whenever you and Sorscha have time, I’d appreciate it if you could make a house call.” There was silence on the other side of the line. “Dor?”

“Sorscha’s last day was Thursday of last week, I had no clue you didn’t know,” he explained. “The new therapist started yesterday.”

“Oh.” Sorscha had been the team’s massage therapist for years and Rowan vaguely remembered rumors that she’d be leaving them. He just never had them confirmed. “That’s fine, how’s the new guy?”

“She is...a piece of work,” Dorian admitted with a sigh. “You’ll meet her when we come by. You free for us to head that way?”

“Yeah, man, the sooner you get me back in working order, the sooner I can get back on the ice,” Rowan replied, debating on saying something about the home game they had that night.

With a chuckle, Dorian said, “Don’t even think about it, man. You’re not playing tonight. We’ll leave in just a bit and see you soon.”

The call ended and Rowan dropped his phone on the couch. He looked at the clock and hollered, “What time are you off tonight, Ace?”

She poked her head out of her bedroom and said, “Four o’clock, why?”

“Wanna go to the game with me?”

Aelin blinked at him. “You aren’t playing, Ro.”

“No,” he said, standing and stretching - and groaning. “But we can go sit in the player’s box and watch.”

“You want to sit next to me for an entire hockey game and hear my commentary?” She asked, grinning.

Rowan’s grin matched hers as he held out a hand, stepping towards her. She placed her hand in his and he gently pulled her towards him. “I promise I won’t be thinking too much about the game with you there with me.”

Aelin ran her palms down Rowan’s chest. “Well, that’s a tough argument.”

Rowan’s grin widened as he leaned down to kiss her. “You’ll go with me then?”

Aelin nibbled on her lip as she nodded. “If you get your ass on the couch and promise to take it easy today.”

He groaned softly. “Fine. If that’s what it takes.”

“Thank you,” she said, rising up on her toes to kiss him once more and turning back to finish getting ready. “You also have to make an appointment with your trainer.”

“He’s on his way with the sports therapist now,” Rowan said, watching her walk back to her room, enjoying every step she took. He really did try to focus on more than just her ass, but the leggings she wore weren’t helping his cause. When she looked back at him as she paused in the doorway, he had just enough time that she didn’t catch him - not that he thought she’d mind.

“Looks like we’ve got a game to go to then,” she winked, and disappeared into the bedroom.

About thirty minutes after Aelin left for the café, Rowan’s phone rang. “Hey, man. You here?”

His trainer and friend’s usually cheery voice was distinctly pissy. “Open up, Whitethorn. I’ve been knocking on your door for two minutes.”

“Oh, shit.” Rowan was up on his feet with a quiet grunt and ran to the door throwing it open. Dorian stood in front of his own apartment door, down the hall. He called, “Sorry, man, I’m staying with my girlfriend.”

Dorian’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re Aelin’s boyfriend?”

Rowan paused and blinked. “Uh, aye? You know her?”

“I grew up with her, we’ve been friends for years,” Dorian said, the light tone returning. “I told the therapist your apartment number and she’s grabbing her table from the car. I should probably call her-.”

“No, it’s fine, I need to grab a few things from my place anyways,” he shrugged, grabbing his keys off the small table by the door. “We can set up in there so I don’t have to move Aelin’s furniture around.”

Dorian snorted. “Good call.”

Rowan unlocked his apartment and let Dorian in, turning on the lights and carefully moving things out of the way. Painfully.

He grabbed one of his least destroyed game worn jerseys and tossed it over his shoulder. He very much wanted to see her wearing it. “Aelin’s coming to the game tonight,” he said, grinning.

Dorian shook his head and chuckled. “I don’t even know who she is anymore.”

Rowan’s grin only widened.

“Hey, uh, can I come in and see Fleetfoot?” Dorian asked, looking out toward the hallway.

Rowan blinked and said, “I mean, sure.”

They headed back down the hall to Aelin’s apartment, leaving Rowan’s door open for the therapist to carry her gear in. As soon as they entered the apartment, Fleetfoot was bounding towards Dorian, excited like Rowan had never seen her.

Glancing up at Rowan while he rubbed her belly, Dorian grinned. “I gave her to Aelin our junior year of college. I promised if she got all A’s on her finals, I’d get her puppy. Guess who got straight A’s the entire semester?”

Rowan couldn’t help but laugh, smiling and shaking his head. “Sounds about right.”

Dorian’s phone chimed and he stood, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Oh she’s all set up and ready for you. Just head back down here when you’re done and we’ll talk about getting you on the ice again.”

“Aye, sounds good,” Rowan said and left, heading for his own apartment. The door was shut now, but he assumed it was just for privacy. He’d had to get sports massages before. They were basically a glorified regular massage. They focused on specific muscles groups, some quite intimate and quite awkward, but for the most part the etiquette was the same.

A dim room, quiet music or white noise of some sort, a special table covered in a white sheet, and the fact that you typically undress and are under just a towel.

Suddenly, Rowan froze with his hand halfway extended toward his doorknob, as he realized he was about to essentially be naked, alone in his apartment, with a woman he’d never met, as she rubbed her hands all over his body.

He’d had to get sports massages before. Just never while he’d had a girlfriend.

Maybe he should ask Dorian to come in and talk while she worked on him.

With a sigh, Rowan realized he was overthinking things. This was her job and he was judging her before he’d even met her. She was probably extremely professional and he was worrying for no reason.

With a shake of his head, he entered his apartment and asked, “Hello?”

A young woman rounded the corner, wiping her damp hands on a paper towel. Her long, black hair was braided back, and by the time her obsidian eyes met Rowan’s, he was frozen in place. For a moment, she didn’t react, and Rowan couldn’t breathe.

And then her eyes lit up and a small grin spread on her thin, red lips. His blood ran cold. He swallowed. “Maeve. What...the hell are you doing here?”

“Ah, Rowan Whitethorn,” she cooed. “We meet again.”

#snacmc #snelbz tacmc collab #light up the ice #Rowaelin hockey fic #LUI #snelbz lui #toab lui #Rowaelin #throne of glass

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prettyboyjackhughes · 4 years ago

Text

-Little Crosby- |D. Cozens| [Part 1]

It’s finally here! @workhorsefromwhitehorse24 and I have been working on this for a while now and I can honestly say that this is probably my favorite thing we’ve collaborated on! This was a little outside my comfort zone but I enjoyed writing it so much! Hope you enjoy! Let us know what you think!!

“Ava Grace I’m home!” Dad calls from downstairs. I sit up and grab my sweatshirt off of the floor.

“Coming!” I say as I pull it over my head and run out into the hall. I attempt to make it down the stairs without dying but almost fail as I get to the bottom step. “Whoops! Sorry!” I yell as I knock one of the pictures off the wall. He stands in the kitchen doorway and watches me, amused, as I fix the picture then turn to face him, a grin on my face. He had been gone for 2 weeks on a 5 game road trip, resulting in the Penguins going 4-1. Dad scored a pair of goals in the first two games. But sadly, it wasn’t enough of a push to get them to the playoffs.

“Hi Daddy!” I say, running to hug him. He lifts me off the ground and kisses the top of my head. Dad and I have always been super close. It’s been just him and I for years. Ever since I was born, it’s just been Dad and I. Grandma and Grandpa were always in the picture too, along with Aunt Taylor. The 4 of them have been my entire world and my family for the past 17 years. My mom has never been in the picture since she and Dad had me when they were super young, before Dad was in the NHL. Dad had moved from Nova Scotia by himself when he was 15, down to Faribault, Minnesota. Mom and Dad met within his first week of school. Dad tells me I look just like her but from what I can tell, the older I get, the more I look like Dad. But basically one thing turned to another, Dad had his first taste of freedom, being away from his parents and all, and 9 months later, I was born. As soon as Grandma and Grandpa found out, they moved Taylor and everything else down to be with my dad and help out with me. But one Saturday, Mom dropped me off with Dad and told him she had decided she wanted more than raising a baby and my dad so she left me with Dad and left. I’ve never heard from her, except for one birthday card when I turned 6. Grandma and Grandpa raised me alongside Taylor until Dad’s first season in the NHL. That’s when he moved me to Pittsburgh with him. I mean, before he was in the NHL, he made sure that he was a part of my life and made sure I knew that I was his little girl. But it hasn’t really been that big of a deal that Mom hasn’t been in the picture since I’ve had Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, and Aunt Taylor, plus all of Dad’s teammates through the years. It’s been a ride, having a dad like I do. I mean, he’s pretty much the face of the NHL and one of the greatest players to ever play hockey, being Sidney Crosby and all. Everywhere we go, he gets recognized so it was always hard for him to come to my things as I was growing up. But he always made sure that someone was there for me, whether it was one of my grandparents or Aunt Taylor. But even through all of that, my dad is my best friend. I’ve never needed anyone else.

“I missed you so much!” He says, setting me down and looking at me. I smile and nod.

“I missed you too! Nice set of goals by the way. Sorry about the playoffs...” I say, smiling as he walks into the kitchen. He shrugs as I follow him into the kitchen and sit down at the table, watching him wander around the kitchen, making one of his shakes he always drinks.

“It was a long two weeks for sure, but I’m glad I have you to come home too.” I nod and smile.

“Oh Sweetheart, before I forget, we’re going up to Toronto next weekend for the Leafs’ first playoff game, for your birthday. We’ll spend two weeks up in Toronto.” The Penguins missed out on the playoffs, ending their season early. But my Leafs made it to the first round of the playoffs. He smiles as my face lights up. The Toronto Maple Leafs are my favorite team. As disappointed as Dad was in me when he found out, he still supports it, just happy that I like hockey. My favorite player is Mitch Marner, which is a player Dad approves of. He raised me on the ice, around his team and made sure I loved hockey as much as he does. I played for 6 years but I decided I liked watching hockey better than playing.

“Really? We are?” I say, giddy.

“Yep, I think Tanger and Geno are going to come with us. I invited Taylor too, figured we could make a whole vacation of the trip. We can go out to dinner, shopping, all the fun, girly stuff you love. Oh and there’s a surprise flying out to see you too.” Kris Letang and Evgeni Malkin are Dad’s alternate captains and my honorary uncles. Up until about 4 years ago, I had 3 honorary uncles. Marc-André Fleury, the Penguins' goalie and now the Vegas Golden Knights’ goalie was the third. He and Dad are still close which means he still claims the third honorary uncle spot. When he got married in 2012, I was the flower girl. I’ve actually been in all 3 of my “uncle’s” weddings. They’ve been a huge part of my life since I was little, even when Dad was trying to keep me out of the spotlight. I smile, pushing my hair out of my face. I think the thing that everyone always finds so interesting about Dad and I, is that he did such a good job keeping me out of the spotlight up until I was old enough to understand what was going on. But as soon as I started going to events with him, everyone knew I was his daughter. I mean, I look and act like a female version of Dad so it makes perfect sense that I’m his daughter.

“Ava girl, do you want to see if one of your friends wants to come with us? Might be a little boring to spend your birthday weekend with a bunch of old people.” Dad says, finally sitting down with his gross shake. I nod and laugh, thinking of who I could invite. I go to Shady Side Academy in downtown Pittsburgh, which is a big, fancy private school. There’s a little over 1,100 kids that go to my school, but only about 70 of them are in my grade.

“Oh, I’ll invite Carter. Let me text her and see if she can go.” Carter James has been my best friend since 2nd grade. She’s my total opposite and somehow, it works.

“Okay Honey. I’m going to go lay down for a little bit. Our flight left pretty early this morning so I’m pretty tired. Go ahead and order something for dinner. Anything but pizza please.” I pout a little, my bottom lip jutting out. He smiles and drops a kiss on the top of my head as he walks out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I walk out to the living room and flop on the couch, getting on my phone to watch Tik Tok for a while. Suddenly, the door to the house flies open and my Aunt Taylor waltzes in.

“Hello my absolute favorite niece in the entire world!” She calls, dumping her purse and everything in her hands onto the bench by the door. Grandma decorated the entire house. Dad was going to hire a decorator but Grandma insisted and somehow, Dad ended up liking what she did with the place.

“I’m your only niece so I hope I’m your favorite. But hey Aunt Tay. What’s up?” I asked, sitting up.

“Nothing much. Just came home to drive my big brother crazy and talk about your birthday trip with you. How excited are you? Hey wait, isn’t it your 18th birthday?” I smile and nod again. Aunt Tay is a little scatterbrained and once forgot how old I was turning and bought me a 13th birthday card. I was turning 11. But of course, she always means well and loves me a ton.

“Carter is coming with us. Do you know what the surprise is? Dad just told me there is one but didn’t say anything else.” Taylor grins as she nods.

“I’m not telling you but just know this, you’re gonna be really really excited.” She says, sitting down on the couch by my feet.

“So how’s things at school? Still thinking about going to UPenn?” She asks, tapping her thumb against my knee. I sigh.

“Ugh I don’t know anymore. I fell in love with UPenn when I visited there with Grandma last fall but I don’t know if I want to be that far away from everyone. I mean, it’s only 4 hours but going from how things are now to that? That’s a lot to process.” She nods, watching me.

“Well Honey, you know your dad would make sure you had a car on campus and everything. So you can always come back home and visit. But I mean, it’s been you and your dad since you were a baby. Maybe it’s time to go out on your own a little?” I cringe a little at the thought.

“I don’t wanna leave!” I say, falling into Taylor’s lap and drawing out the end of the word. She laughs and smooths my hair down.

“We’ll figure something out. You’ve still got time, Ava Grace.” She says and somehow, those words make all the anxiety I have about college and everything else coming up in my future fade to a dull roar instead of the screams it has been for the past couple weeks. I’ve always been able to talk to Dad about anything which is why he and I have such a good relationship now. But the one thing I haven’t been able to talk to him about is college. Dad went straight from high school into the NHL. He always claims to understand but I’m pretty sure it just confuses him sometimes.

“Okay you two, it’s very hard to sleep when all I can hear is laughing and carrying on.” Dad says, coming back downstairs.

“Yeah yeah, keep it down, Patrick.” Taylor says, looking up at Dad. Dad hates being called by his middle name which is why Taylor calls him that. He rolls his eyes and bats her hand away as she reaches up to poke him. When the two of them are together, Grandma always says they act like they did when they were little.

“Have you girls figured out everything for us leaving on Thursday? Ava, is Carter going with us?” I grab my phone off the arm of the couch and turn it on, quickly reading the notifications on the screen.

“Yeah she’s going. And she’s gonna be here in 3, 2, 1!” I count down as the door bursts open again. Carter and my Aunt Taylor are two peas in a pod. They’re practically the same person which is why I love them both so much.

“Hello Crosby family!” She shouts, sliding across the floor and landing on top of me.

“Oh this is going to be a long two weeks.” Dad says, laughing and rubbing his forehead.

“So we’re going to Toronto for your 18th birthday? And to see the love of your life? Hell yeah this is going to be a great trip.” Carter says, looking up at me.

“Okay, Carter James, slow down please.” I say, patting her head.

“Wait, isn’t the legal drinking age in Canada, 18?” Carter asks, sitting up and looking at Dad.

“Oh my God Sidney Patrick. You’re taking your daughter to Canada to drink for her 18th birthday?” Taylor says, looking over at Dad with a smirk on her face.

“Taylor Jane, you’d better cut it out or you’re not going anymore.” He says, shaking his finger at her. Carter and I laugh and Taylor rolls her eyes.

“She’s responsible enough to handle this. You two are the ones I have to worry about.” Dad says, pointing at Carter and Aunt Taylor.

“Tanger and Geno are going too? Oh this is going to be a blast!” Taylor says, rubbing her hands together and grinning evilly. Dad’s head drops into his hands and the 3 of us burst out laughing. Carter and I spend the rest of the evening planning our trip out while Dad and Aunt Taylor watch the St. Cloud game. The week leading up to our trip to Toronto flies by, but my excitement for the game only builds. It’s not the first time I’ve been to a Leafs game, nor is it the first time I’ve gotten to watch my favorite player play. But it’s happening on my 18th birthday and that makes it even more exciting.

Thursday morning, two days before my birthday, Carter wakes me up by bouncing on my bed.

“We’re leaving today!” She sings, bouncing more. I roll over and groan.

“Carter James, it’s too early!” I say, shoving her. She laughs at me and I sit up.

“Come on, we’re going to dinner with the love of your life tonight!” She says. I jump out of bed and look at her, eyes wide. I’m 100% a Mitch Marner fan girl. Carter thinks it’s hilarious but she’s the exact same way for Patrick Kane. We ran into him at the Stanley Cup Finals one year and she was speechless.

“What are you talking about? Dinner with who?” I ask. Dad walks in and is now standing in my doorway.

“I called in a few favors and we’re going to dinner with Mitch Marner and Morgan Rielly tonight. How does that sound?” He says, as my mouth drops open.

“Oh my God thank you thank you Daddy!” I say, running over to hug him. He smiles and Carter laughs.

“She’s gonna faint as soon as she sees him. Total freak out.” Carter says, crossing her arms and laughing.

“I am not! I’ll be perfectly fine. It’s just another hockey player. Not like I’m in love with him or anything.” I say, pointing at her. She rolls her eyes and we both laugh.

“Where my favorite birthday girl?” I hear a deep voice call from downstairs.

“Geno, it’s too early for you to be this loud. Shut up.” I hear Taylor say.

“I take it G and Tanger just got here?” Dad calls and Taylor groans in response.

“Alright girls get ready and we’ll leave in a little over an hour. Go down and say hi to everyone first though.” I nod and follow Dad downstairs, Carter tagging along behind me.

“Hi Uncle Geno, Uncle Kris!” I say, running to hug both of them as they stand up from where they were sitting on the couch. Taylor is taking up the other end of the couch, facedown in a pillow. “Are you excited for your birthday trip?” Kris asks, patting my back as he hugs me.

“I’m so excited. Do you know what my surprise is? Dad still won’t tell me.” Geno laughs, still too loud for Taylor apparently because a pillow goes flying across the room and just misses his head.

“Tay, go drink some coffee please, you’re being a brat right now.” Dad says, patting her head.

“I know surprise. You like a lot.” Geno says, crossing his arms and looking down at me. I raise an eyebrow. I’ve been the victim of one of Dad’s surprises before and let’s just say he doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to surprises.

“Is it bad that I’ve been your best friend for 12 years and I still can’t understand what he’s saying?” Carter asks, leaning over to me. I laugh and Geno looks between the two of us.

“Who you? You Ava’s best friend?” Carter rolls her eyes and nudges Geno, who laughs again and hugs her. “Alright, Little Crosby, let’s get this show on the road.” Kris says, pointing towards the stairs. I smile and rush upstairs to get dressed and grab my bags. I pick out a pair of black leggings and a peach colored Adidas sweatshirt. I change into the clothes and put my pajamas in the dirty clothes. I put on mascara quickly, finishing everything off with some lip gloss. I grab my Birkenstocks and slip them on.

“Okay, I’m ready!” I call as I drag my bag down the stairs behind me. I again attempt not to die on my way down the stairs. But yet again, I fail.

“Oh God, Little Crosby.” Kris says, somehow managing to catch me as I trip down the last 3 steps.

“Your daughter is a human wrecking ball. You know that, right Sid?” Dad laughs and nods.

“I haven’t killed myself yet. So far, we’re safe.” Everyone laughs and I smile. All these people filling this house are my entire family. They’ve raised me and I wouldn’t be who I am without all of them.

“Okay, let’s get going! Our flight leaves in 45 minutes!” Dad calls, attempting to herd us all towards the door. Taylor has finally had her coffee and returned to the world of the living.

“Toronto here we come!” She calls as we all get out the door and into the two cars we’re taking. Dad locks the door behind us and turns to look at me.

“You excited, Ava Grace?” I nod and he hugs me to his side.“I hope this lives up to your idea of the perfect 18th birthday.” I laugh and nod again as we head to his car.

The drive to the airport and the flight to Toronto are pretty boring but Kris and Taylor keep everyone entertained the whole trip. Carter finally crashed after the Red Bulls she had while we were waiting for our flight to get called in the airport, leaving me to my own thoughts pretty much the entire flight. When we land in Toronto, everyone is pretty excited for the next two weeks.

“Little Crosby surprise time!” Geno calls from the back of our group.

“Geno, we’re still in an airport. Keep it down a little please?” Carter says, patting his arm. Dad scoffs and looks between me and Carter.

“He’s right though, your surprise is right through those doors.” Dad says, pointing towards the exit of the airport. I see Taylor pull her phone out of her pocket and start recording me. I hand my bag to Kris and look over at Geno who motions me towards the door. I walk towards the doors, which slide open. I glanced around then back at Dad and Taylor who followed me out.

“Little Crosby!” I hear a very familiar voice yell over the buzz of the airport.

“Oh my God! Uncle Flower!” I shout, rushing towards my uncle Marc and hugging him.

“Surprise!” Dad calls, smiling as I hug Marc.

“So you were my surprise?” I say, stepping back and looking at him.

“Yep, I was the big wonderful surprise. Hope you weren’t too disappointed.” He says, smiling as his arm rests around my shoulders.

“I figured you’d want all of your uncles here for your big 18th birthday. So we worked it out and got him here for you.” I smile, quickly hugging Dad before returning to hug Marc again.

“Alright well, it’s time to get heading to the hotel. We’re going to dinner at 6:30 tonight. Geno, Flower and Kris are taking Tay to something that I know nothing about. And you’re okay with Carter going with us?” I nod as Marc leads us and the rest of our group to the waiting van.

“I’m taking a nap when we get to the hotel. You woke me up too early this morning.” I say, nudging Carter as she slides into the van next to me.

“Sounds like a plan. The Red Bull ran out.” She says, laying her head on my shoulder. The two of us manage to fall asleep on the 20 minute drive to the hotel. Geno shakes us both awake when we get to the hotel. We sleepily wander into the hotel and wait in the lobby while Dad and Tay get everything figured out. The adults herd us all over to the elevator and into it, somehow managing to get us all to the conjoined rooms we have for the next two weeks. As soon as we make it into the rooms, Carter and I collapse onto the bed we’ll be sharing and fall asleep.

About 2 and a half hours later, Dad comes in and wakes us up.

“Girls, we have about an hour before we have to leave for dinner. Go ahead and start getting ready.” He calls as he closes the door behind him. I sit up and stretch, the excitement building in my chest all over again.

“Okay, I think I’m gonna curl my hair and wear that frilly, layered red skirt with the white sweater and my little brown boots. What about you, Carter?” I ask, looking back at her who is still laying in bed.

“So I have to dress nice right? I think the army green pants romper thing with my jean jacket, Vans and straight hair. Sound good?” She asks, finally sitting up. I nod and get started curling my hair. She gets started on doing her makeup while I work on my hair. Somehow, we both end up being done with plenty of time left to spare. So we do what typical teenagers do and spend the extra 15 minutes we have, on our phones. Dad comes in and the two of us follow him down to the elevator and out to the car. It’s some super nice, fancy car; just like the one that lives in our garage except on home game days. Dad lets Carter play music which automatically, I can tell, he regrets as Cotton Eye Joe plays for the third time. Carter is having the time of her life and I can’t help but laugh along with her. When we get to the restaurant, it’s one Dad and I came to, back when we came to Toronto for some charity event a few years ago.

“Alright, how excited are you?” Dad asks, as he parks the car and we climb out. I squeal a little and Carter laughs. Dad smiles, draping his arm around my shoulders as I link arms with Carter. The 3 of us waltz into the restaurant and walk up to the hostess.

“Hello, Mr. Crosby. Your two guests are already seated.” I squeeze Carter’s arm and we squeal a little together. As we follow the hostess to our table, back in the back, we pass a table with two teenage boys. One looks Carter up and down, obviously checking her out, while the other locks eyes with me. I smile, forcing myself to look away as we disappear into the back, private room Dad reserved for us.

“Holy crap, did you see those guys?” Carter whisper-yells into my ear. I nod, trying to focus on the fact that Mitch Marner is standing a few feet away from me, a grin on his face, instead of the guy I just saw.

“Hey Sid. This must be Ava and Carter. Nice to meet you girls.” Mitch says, reaching his hand out. I shake it, the smile on my face impossibly large. Morgan Rielly stands next to him and shakes our hands as well. As we all sit down, I happen to glance around the room and see that both of the boys are looking into the room. As much as I want to pay attention to what Mitch, Mo and Dad are talking about, I can’t. I’m too distracted by the boy I saw. Carter, apparently can’t either.

“Ava, they were literally so hot. Can I please go get their numbers?” She asks, nudging me when she catches me staring again.

“No! Dad will kill me if he catches me talking to a boy!” I whisper-yell, glancing up at Dad and Mitch.

“Ava Grace, that could be your freaking soulmate and you’ll never know because you won’t let me go get their numbers!” I roll my eyes and glance over my shoulder at the boys’ table. Sadly, they’re gone and I sigh, looking over at Carter.

“They’re gone anyway. Not like we’re ever gonna see them again anyways.” I say, glumly, resting my chin on my hand. She shakes her head. “There went your soulmate.” I sigh, knowing she won’t let me live this down. Dad clears his throat, pulling Carter and I back to the conversation happening at the table.

“So Ava, I hear you’re a pretty big fan of mine.” Mitch says, leaning on his elbows against the table. I smile, taking in all of his features.

“Yeah, you’ve been my favorite since you came into the league. Dad’s always a little disappointed when I don’t tell people he’s my favorite player.” Mitch and Mo laugh. The rest of the evening, conversation flows easily and Carter and I both have a blast. As I glance at my Apple watch and see the time, Carter nudges me again.

“Your dad is looking at you funny.” She says, nodding her head towards Dad. I look up, my eyes meeting my dad’s gaze.

“It’s getting late, are you girls ready to head back to the hotel? Your aunt and uncles should be getting back soon too.” Carter and I nod and I turn to look at Mitch.

“I’ll be wearing your jersey on Saturday night. Don’t disappoint me. Also it’s my birthday so a goal or two would be nice.” Mitch and Mo laugh as Dad smiles down at me.

“I will try my hardest. Glad we could spend the evening with you lovely ladies. See you on Saturday after the game? There’ll be passes for your whole group at the ticket desk.” My face lights up and I know Carter’s does too.“Okay great! See you then! Good luck!” I say, standing and hugging Mitch. Mo shakes Dad’s hand and then the two of them head out.

“You two seemed very distracted all during dinner. Was everything okay?” Dad asks as the 3 of us head back out to the car after he pays.“Yeah everything was fine. Dinner was super good and fun. Carter just saw some cute boy and wouldn’t shut up about him.” Dad laughs and rolls his eyes.

“Hey, in my defense, your daughter was looking too so it wasn’t just me.” Carter says, crossing her arms. Dad’s head whips around as we climb in the car.

“A boy? What?” I groan internally and elbow Carter. I’ve never been that into boys. I mean, I’ve thought plenty of boys were cute and had quite a few guy friends but I’ve never had the time or the effort that comes with having a relationship. So it’s never been a topic of conversation for Dad and I.

“Nothing, it was nothing. Don’t worry about it, Dad.” I say, trying to avoid the topic.

“It’s interesting though. I was just talking to your uncle Kris about how you’ve never had a boyfriend or anything like that. Which is fine with me because I know what boys are like.” Dad says as we drive back to the hotel. Carter is dying sitting next to me, her hand pressed against her mouth to avoid laughing out loud.

“I-I know...I’ve just never had the time or wanted one.” I say, burying my head in my hands.

“Well you don’t need one. You have all the guys you need in your life. Me, your Uncle Geno, Uncle Kris, Uncle Marc, and Grandpa.” Carter finally bursts out laughing and Dad looks in the rearview mirror at me.

“I’m serious, Ava Grace. Why do you need a boyfriend?” Dad has never really been the overprotective dad. He’s protective for sure but he kind of lets me do my own thing most of the time. He knows if I need to, I’ll come to him or one of the other main adults in my life. But he lets me make my own decisions and figure life out by myself. This whole ‘no boyfriend’ thing that he’s doing right now is new.

“I guess I don’t. You’re right.” I say, putting an end to the conversation by turning and looking out the window. Thankfully, Dad doesn’t push any farther. The 3 of us ride in silence, the radio off, the rest of the way back to the hotel. Once we get into the hotel and up to our rooms, I tell Dad goodnight, give him a hug and a kiss then follow Carter into our room. Carter distracts me from the disaster of a conversation that was with Dad and forces me to watch some cheesy rom-com with her. I fall asleep midway through and sleep in late the next day. Taylor takes Carter and I out shopping all day on Friday while my dad and the uncles do who knows what. The topic of boys is avoided all day, All night at dinner on Friday, we catch up with everyone. I fill Marc in on what Dad’s latest old person moment was, even though he’s only 33. Everything seems so perfect and happy but I keep replaying the conversation with Dad over and over again in my head.

Saturday morning, my birthday morning, Carter wakes me up with cake in bed. It’s a tradition we started when we were 12. Every year on our birthday, the other girl brings the birthday girl cake in bed. It’s one of my favorite birthday traditions.

“Happy birthday Little Crosby! You are adult now!” Geno calls, leading the rest of my family into my room. Dad brings up the end of the line and walks over to the bed. He hugs me, pressing a kiss to my forehead.“Happy birthday my sweet girl.” He says, smoothing my hair down and getting all teary-eyed.

“I can’t believe the young lady you’ve grown into. You are beautiful, strong, independent and so responsible. I...I didn’t think things would end up this way, especially with your mom not being in the picture. But I look around you and I see all these people who helped raise you and I know, you’ve turned out more than okay. I love you Ava Grace and will always love you. Happy birthday.” Dad says. I take another bite of the cake Carter brought me and smile up at him.

“I love you so much, Daddy. Thank you for everything. Thank you everyone for everything you’ve done for me. I love all of you.” They all share a sappy smile and I keep eating my cake. The rest of the day, we hang out at the hotel, lounging around before the game tonight at 7. Marc and Geno see how many pieces of pizza they can eat while Dad keeps score. Taylor paints Carter’s nails and I pick at mine. Kris sneaks out to buy me ice cream and comes back with at least 10 different kinds, all of them my favorite in one way or another.

Carter and I start getting ready around 4:30 so we’re ready to leave by 5. I straighten my hair and do just light makeup. I dig my Mitch Marner jersey out of my bag and put it on with some black leggings. Carter wears the jersey of the only Leaf she likes, Frederik Andersen. She opted for black ripped jeans instead of leggings. Everyone else is just dressed casual. Marc did wear a Leafs hat just to please me. The drive to the arena, Carter gets to play music again. She plays our ‘Hockey Game Hype Up’ playlist, something we made a few years ago. Even though I’m the music person, she’s much better at putting playlists together. I’m only really good at finding one or two songs I love and just playing them over and over again. As the songs ‘Auston Matthews’ by Svdvm and ‘Toronto Maple Leafs Anthem’ by JDME play back to back, we pull into the arena parking lot. No matter how many times I’ve been to Scotiabank Arena, it never ceases to amaze me. I think I’ve been here a grand total of like 15 times in the last 10 years, solidifying it as my favorite arena.

“Come on Ava, let’s go watch your boy play.” Carter says, linking her arm through mine. She leads me and the rest of our group into the arena. Everyone else heads to the box but I decide to stay down in the main area and wander around a bit, making sure I get the full experience again. All around me, Leafs fans are hurrying to one place or another. I take everything, wanting to remember this for the rest of my life. As I’m walking down a small set of stairs, I collide with a pretty solid body. And of course, with my human wrecking ball abilities, I manage to take both of us down, all the way to the ground. “Shit! I’m so sorry, are you okay?” I ask, sitting up and looking at the boy I collided with. He sits up, looks at me, down at the ground, then back up at me. His eyes are huge.

“I-Oh my God. Yeah-Yeah I’m okay! Are you?” He asks, jumping to his feet and reaching his hand out to help me up. I take his hand and he pulls me to my feet. “Yeah I’m all good. Sorry for taking you out. I’m known for being clumsy. Like the jersey by the way.” I say, pointing to where the number 16 is stitched into the arm of his jersey. The same number sprawled across my back.

“Hey, I like yours too. Marner your favorite player?” I nod, pushing my hair back out of my face.

“Yeah, I grew up a Penguins fan because of my dad but the Leafs are my favorite team.” He smiles and nods. He looks so familiar but I can’t place where I know him from. Talking to him comes so naturally and it seems like the world just goes on around us while we stand there and talk. Before I know it, they’re starting the lineup announcements.

“Oh shoot, I gotta get going. Enjoy the game!” I call over my shoulder as I run back towards the box we’re all sitting in. Of course, I trip up the steps and almost fall. As I glance over my shoulder, I see the boy with a smirk on his face. I blush and mentally kick myself for first off accidentally tackling a cute boy then tripping and almost falling in front of him. As I rush back into the box, Dad eyes me with a raised eyebrow. I huff and flop into my seat next to Marc and Carter. Carter glances at me out of the corner of her eye and smirks.

“Why are you all red and bothered about?” I bite my lip and Marc looks over at me.“I accidentally tackled a cute boy…” I say, burying my head in my hands. Carter and Marc laugh and Marc pats my back.

“There there, Little Crosby. I did much worse to your aunt Véronique.” I laugh and lean my head on his shoulder. Geno and Kris are behind us, teasing Taylor as Dad watches what’s going on down on the ice. His hand is resting on my shoulder, absentmindedly squeezing and releasing in a protective way. As I sit there, watching the game, all I can think about is the boy. But as I do, I think about the conversation Dad and I had last night in the car. Did he really mean what he said? Would he really get upset if I did ever decide to have a boyfriend?

#sidney crosby #dylan cozens #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #Dylan Cozens imagine #hockey imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey #hockey boys

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years ago

Text

Bubble Wrapped - Part 8

Word Count: 4,741

POV: Reader

Warnings: Same as always, Language, Smut, NSFW, Please see the note in the Masterlist

Teams: Bruins, Caps, Flyers, Lightning and Pens (others)

Notes: So here’s the next installment of this series. Trying to move this along a little quicker. For a series that was only supposed to be 3 to 5 parts it’s practically double that. Ugh! Anyhow, I hope you guys enjoy. As always send me your feedback and suggestions. Happy Reading!

When your phone rang during your FaceTime with Tyler, you didn't expect who or what you heard to be on the other end. There was no 'Hi' or 'How are you' just a quick, "Hey (Y/N), I need your help?"

"Well hello to you too, Brandon." You told the winger from Pittsburgh.

"Oh yeah, Hi." You hadn't seen much of Tanev or Crosby for that matter since that night of the poker game in your suite, so it was kind of interesting to hear from him now.

"What do you need help with?"

"Well, you probably already know this, but it's Sid's birthday on Friday. The guys were saying they want to do something special with him playing that day and all. I may have mentioned that we've talked before…" He paused then and you had to wonder what else he'd told his teammates about that night. Hopefully, he didn't know about what happened with his captain after he left. "Anyhow, we were hoping to do a little party after the game, maybe with a cake and everything? And I was wondering if you could help me pull that off."

"I'm sure it won't be a problem." He could've given you a bit more notice, but you figured Carly could get you any decorations that you needed and you'd have one of the chefs whip up a cake.

"You're a lifesaver."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. I'm just doing my job." Which you totally were, though you'd go the extra mile since it was Sidney. "I'll shut down one of the restaurants and we'll have it all ready to go after the game for you. Anything special you're looking for."

"Nah, whatever you do will be amazing." Brandon was being awfully complimentary, which was appreciated though you wondered if he had another motive. Not that you'd mind going a second round. Actually, you'd like to expand on the first one that you'd had with him and Zack, though being interrupted by Sid really wasn't something you minded. "I definitely owe you one."

"Hmm, I suppose you do. I might have to collect on it soon." Though it wasn't going to be tonight as you still needed to take that Tylenol for your jaw.

"I'll hold you to it." You were sure he would, it would just be a matter of when. "Well, listen if you have any questions you have my number, so just call."

"I will," you told Brandon, then you said your goodbyes and headed to bed for the night. The next day was fairly normal, though you and Carly worked on party details for the next day. Thankfully, your pastry chef was excited to make a cake for one of hockey's best player. He told you it would be magnificent and you had no doubt that he would come through. Carly was able to transform the restaurant from its quiet dining atmosphere into a celebratory nightclub. She was even able to get one of the other staff members to act as DJ for the event. You were quite pleased with what both of you pulled off when it was finally said and done. Now all you needed was the birthday boy.

"Brayden pointed out…" Carly said then started to giggle. "Did you see what I did there?" All you could do was shake your head at her bad pun on Brayden's last name, and tell her yes. "Well anyway, he said this might not be a celebration if the Pens lose. You realize they'll be eliminated right?"

"Fuck." The word flew out of your mouth as you realized she was right. You kept forgetting that these qualifying rounds were best of five instead of normal playoffs which were seven. "We may have done all this work for nothing." The two of you kept an eye on the score, watching it remain zero, zero, until only minutes left in the third when the Canadiens scored. That's when the f-bomb dropped out of your mouth again, only this time you realized you may be losing that bet to Tyler, not that you would mind that. His remote vibrator play had been fun and you were beginning to think that being his sex slave for twenty-four hours might not be so bad. As time ticked down, you could see the desperation in the Pens play. Things weren't coming together for them and you had a feeling that it wasn't going to be a birthday that Sid wanted to remember.

"We may end up turning this party into a, congratulations on making the playoffs party for the Canadiens," Carly commented and you had to agree as the puck slid into the empty net, essentially sealing the fate of the Penguins. All that was left was for the horn to sound, and when it did, you grabbed your phone and shot Brandon a text as to what he wanted to do. His reply was to be radio silent, so you were left wondering if you'd be eating that birthday cake alone.

About an hour later, your phone buzzed. Party's a no go. Sid is pissed.

"Well, looks like this party is over before it even started."

"All this work," Carly sighed.

"I hear you, Car, but I wouldn't be in a mood to party if I just lost my ticket to the Stanley Cup Playoffs." These guys were probably down in the dumps, then again maybe not. A lot of them had families that they seemed to want to get home to, so maybe they were looking at this as a blessing. All you knew, is that now that the Pens were moving out, the next top-seeded team would be moving in and you needed to get the transitioning team ready to go for when they left. After taking down the decorations with Carly, you went to find out when the Pens would be leaving and what their exit plan was. It was obvious to you when they'd put the top-seeded teams in your hotel, that they planned on them staying awhile, so having them move out so soon, wasn't something you were prepared for. People would have to be shifted around so that rooms could be ready hours after they left. You reworked the schedule to make all of this happen and hadn't even noticed the Pens come into the hotel.

It was hours later when most of the hotel was quiet that you realized there was something you had to do. Making your way back up to the restaurant, you found the birthday cake that had been specially made for Sidney. You cut a large piece and placed a candle on it. Taking it to Sid's room was a risk, but you couldn't let his birthday go without notice. He answered your knock fairly quickly, though didn't look pleased at all. You pasted on a bright smile before saying, "So I couldn't let the day pass without at least saying Happy Birthday." You held the cake out towards him.

"Thanks," he answered, a small lop-sided grin on his face. "Not really a birthday I want to remember."

"I get that," you answered, now noticing that his suitcase was on his bed and that he must have been packing to go home. "Well, I just wanted to drop this off." He took the cake out of your hand and this awkwardness came over both of you. It was nothing like it was the other night with him. "Well…um…take care Sid." Turning, you headed towards the elevators, somewhat expecting Sid to call you back. As you pressed the button, you heard his door shut and knew that wasn't going to happen. At least you had a little fun with him, you told yourself as you headed up to your suite for the night. He had every right to be upset; you weren't exactly sure what you were expecting when you knocked on the door but it is what it is, you thought as you headed inside. You took off your blazer, setting it on the chair before heading over to the bar to pour yourself a glass of wine before heading off to bed when you heard the knock on the door.

You were half annoyed as you made your way to the door. Now that you were reconciled to a night alone, all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and go to sleep. "Sid?" To say you were shocked when you opened the door was putting it mildly. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah," he breathed out, and you raised your brow in question. "This piece of cake is too big for one person. I thought maybe you'd want to share it with me?"

"Oh…um…sure." He gave you a little smile and opened the door wider for him to come in. He followed you over to the couch, the two of you sitting down.

"So, did you really have a cake made for me?"

"Yeah." Well, there was no point in saying you didn't, when the piece you'd cut for him had his name on it. "Speaking of which, hold on one second." You dashed into the kitchen then came back out with a match to light the candle. Singing a quick happy birthday to Sid, you then said, "Make a wish." He thought about it for a second then blew the candle out. "I know it's not the birthday you thought it would be." It had to be hard to go from celebrating with the cup two years in a row to now being eliminated in the qualifying rounds.

"I'd be lying if I said it was. I never thought I'd play a hockey game on my birthday, let alone lose that game. It's definitely one I want to forget about." He seemed to think about what he just said, for he quickly added, "well maybe not all of it."

The night was still young, so you were anxious to see if you could maybe turn this birthday around for him. "I should've gotten another fork." You made a move to get up but he stopped you with a hand on your thigh.

"I think we can share." Sid dipped the fork into the cake then fed you the piece. Of course, it was delicious, but you were more focused on the man who was feeding you than the actual cake itself.

"Mmm," you hummed as you enjoyed the sugary treat and you watched as Sid's tongue darted out to lick his lips. Grabbing the fork from him, you proceeded to feed him a piece as well. "You probably should've gotten the first bite."

He hummed his approval as well, the sound sending a rush of heat to your core. "I'd rather have a bite of something else." As soon as the words left his mouth, his hand was at the back of your neck pulling you towards him where his lips were on yours. The kiss wasn't tentative, it was full-on heat from the moment you touched. Each of you yearning for the other. Vaguely, you remember setting the cake down on the coffee table, so that you could reach up and wrap your arms around Sid's neck, pulling yourself closer to him. You felt yourself melting into him and the couch as he guided you back against the cushions.

His body lay heavily on top of yours but you welcomed the weight, as you both shifted trying to seek more contact with each other. Sid's hand glided down your body, and he scrunched your skirt up to your hips so that his body could fit between your legs. He continued to devour your mouth, and you felt like you were back in high school making out on your parent's sofa. His hands roamed up your body, untucking your shirt so he could glide them up to feel your breasts. Sid rolled your covered nipple between his thumb and forefinger; your back arching up into his touch as you moaned into the kiss.

His lips finally broke from yours, so you could both catch your breath. "We could move this upstairs," you suggested.

"I like that idea," he answered capturing your lips again briefly before easing off the couch and helping you up. When you adjusted your skirt back down he just cocked his head at you with a little smirk on his face. "Did you think that was necessary?"

"Depends on if you want a show or not?"

"There are options?" That was sort of a loaded question you weren't sure you wanted to answer.

"Aren't there always?" You were at the top of the stairs then and his hands grabbed you around the waist and hauled you close to him so that you were nose to nose.

"There's a lot of questions going on here, maybe we should just quit talking."

He gave you a full ten seconds to answer before crushing your mouth to his. Before you knew it, you were in your bedroom. His hands were all over you and you couldn't get enough of it, but you were also doing your share of touching every exposed inch of his body. The last time the two of you were together, he'd maintained this cool composure as he'd gotten you off on his thigh while remaining completely clothed. You weren't going to miss the opportunity this time to see Sidney on his birthday in his birthday suit. Gathering his shirt in your hands, you broke from the kiss to lift it off his body. The man was simply perfection, as your nails raked across his abs. He shivered at your touch but then thrust into your hips letting you know that he wanted you just as much as you did him.

Sid's hands were at the back of your skirt, searching for the zipper until he found it and slid it down so you could shimmy out of the garment. He wasn't satisfied with just getting you out of that though, as he all but tore your shirt from your body. You could swear that you heard the seam rip, but you didn't care. He held you at arms-length then, drinking in the sight of you clad only in your bra and thong. "Mmm, you're the best present I've unwrapped today." He hummed out in appreciation as he stared at you.

You blushed at the compliment that rolled off his tongue, before taking a deep breath to regain your composure. "You still have more to unwrap."

"So it seems," he chuckled and then turned your body so that your back was to him as he unhooked your bra. "Have to make it last," he whispered in your ear, as his lips dropped to the hollow of your neck. Your head fell back against him, rolling to the side to give him greater access as you enjoyed the feel of his mouth hot on you. One strap slid down your shoulder, the bra just barely hanging on until he slithered the other one down with it. You could feel his eyes on your breasts as he sucked on your neck, a groan coming from him as his cock pressed into your back. "Beautiful," he breathed out over the spot where he'd just been nibbling, and it was your turn to shiver as the sensation of both hot and cold had goose pimples rising on your flesh. His hands snaked up your sides so he could cup your breasts, toying with your nipples and making them pebble under his touch. You ached to feel his lips there, but Sid took his time, just tweaking and pinching.

His right hand traveled south to your core, as he snuck his hand inside the thin material of your panties; fingers massaging just above your clit. You wanted, no, you needed more. Your hips flexing of their own accord, silently begging him to venture further down. When he did finally touch your clit, you moaned out in pleasure, but Sid didn't stay there long. His fingers slipped between your folds, just running back and forth not entering you. "You're dripping." He turned your head to capture your lips in a short kiss. "Are you always like this or just for me?"

You knew he was looking for his ego to be stroked a bit and you were willing to fondle more than that. "Only for you," you moaned out, as your hand snuck back to rub his cock through his shorts.

"Not yet baby. It's my birthday remember." You nodded weakly, as his fingers played with your pussy. "Take off your panties and lie down on the bed for me." You followed his command, ridding yourself of the flimsy material before climbing onto the mattress, and situating yourself amongst the pillows. "Spread your legs for me princess." Sid had a spell on you, and so you obeyed his orders. "Wider baby, let me see how wet you are." His eyes were riveted to your cunt, which was soaking by this point and only grew wetter under his intense scrutiny. "I seem to recall only getting a taste of that cake downstairs. I wonder if you're as sweet as it was." Sid crawled onto the bed then, positioning himself between your thighs, before grabbing your hips and hauling them towards him. His eyes held yours as his tongue snuck out for that first taste of you. "Mmm, I thinking I need more." He was lapping at your folds and drinking in your juices, while you fisted the sheets from the pleasure of his tongue. Your moans filling the air of the room. "So sweet," he hummed against your pussy, before nibbling on your clit and causing your hips to buck up. His strong arm held you still as he ate you out, alternating between thrusting his tongue inside you and flicking it over your clit.

"Sid, please," you begged, but he kept you teetering on the edge. "Fuck." He slid one finger inside you, your pussy clenching around it. "Oh god," you groaned out at the feel of him. His mouth was solely focused on your clit now that one finger just pumping in and out of you, and you felt your orgasm start to build. It wasn't long before it crested, and wash over you, your body arching up into his mouth. "Sid," you moaned out as you came.

"You're so beautiful when you cum," he panted as his finger slid out of you. "Open," he demanded as he brought that same finger to your lips. You sucked on it, tasting yourself as you ran your tongue around his digit. "Fuck princess, you do that so well." His finger popped out of your mouth, before he said, "how about you try sucking on something else." When you licked your lips in anticipation, he captured them in a searing kiss, then rolled your bodies so that you were laying on top of him. You broke the kiss, then wiggled down his body, trailing kisses on his chest and abdomen as you went. When you got to the waistband, you ran your fingers underneath it, your tongue following your movements as you shimmied his shorts down his legs. Your nails skated up the inside of his bare thighs as his cock sprang free. Taking your tongue, you licked up the underside of his dick before taking the head inside your mouth. He sighed in contentment and his hand reached down to thread through your locks, gently urging you to take more of him. As you sank down inch by slow inch on his cock, Sid groaned with pleasure. "That's it, princess, take me in deep." Sid's thighs weren't the only thing that was thick on him as your mouth took as much of him inside as you could. Slipping your one hand around the base, you pumped what you couldn't fit in, as your jaw worked up and down on the length of him. "Fuck princess, you are so good." You hummed under his praise, the vibrations going through his body had him fisting his hand in your hair. His hips thrust up into your face, making you gag slightly before they moved back down on the mattress. You cupped his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze as you hollowed out your cheeks only to release him with a pop. Running your tongue down his length, you licked at his balls before sucking them. "Jesus," he hissed out, while your hand pumped his erection up and down. Sid gathered your hair at the nape of your neck so he could watch you. "So beautiful," he praised and you moved back up to take him inside your mouth once again. Sounds of sucking and slurping filled the room as your head bobbed up and down on his cock. His balls tensed, right before he pulled you off of him. "Fuck…as much as I want to cum in that pretty little mouth of yours; I'm not ready for the night to be over just yet."

He dragged your body up flush with his so he could kiss you again and he rolled you both one more time. His tongue exploring your mouth with languid strokes, that made you want to kiss him for days on end, but then you felt his dick nudging at your entrance and your body craved him more. As he pressed into your dripping cunt, your leg snaked around his waist, pulling him in closer. "So eager," he breathed out, making eye contact with you until he was buried deep inside you. You'd never felt so full before. Sid's hip thrust just centimeters more into you, his cock hitting deep within your core and you felt stretched beyond compacity. "Is that what you wanted?" Feebly, you nodded a yes. "Words, princess?"

"Yes, Sid…yes," you were panting now with need. Your body aching for him to move. Thankfully he didn't make you beg any longer as he started a slow thrust in and out of your pussy. Sid's mouth moved down your neck, to your breasts, where he took one turret nipple into his mouth and playfully bit down on it. The effect went straight to your cunt, as you could feel the wetness now dripping down to your ass. Yet he continued his slow pace of pumping into you. "Please, Sid…" you begged wanting more. Sid wasn't to be deterred though and continued the rhythm he enjoyed, toying with your nipples as you moaned out in ecstasy.

He was building you slowly up, just gradually bringing you to the edge. You felt your legs start to tense, only to have Sid pull his cock out completely. "On your knees baby." You did his bidding, eager to find that release your body desired. His hands roamed around the globes of your ass, softly caressing it as he pushed back into you. Once he was fully inside, you pushed back against him. "Easy princess," his words on had you repeating the motion until you felt his hand smack hard on your ass. You yelped in surprise, even though the sting sent a rush of sensation to where you both were connected. His hand soothed your bottom, before delivering another blow. This time you moaned, enjoying the bite his hand brought. "You like that, don't you princess?"

"Mmmhmm," you whimpered as he smacked the other side this time.

Finally, Sid started to thrust in and out of your soaking pussy. Every so often spanking you as he went. You could feel your body just hovering on the edge of orgasm, but yet not being able to get there. Sid took a fistful of your hair, yanking you back as he started to pound in and out of you. You were so close. "Are you going to cum for me princess?" An incoherent noise let your lips and even you couldn't tell if it was a yes or a no. Wanting to bring you pleasure, Sid's hand snuck to your clit, where he rubbed your little nub furiously. You started to tremble, and he yanked your hair harder. "Look at me, princess." You turned to see him, right before your climax hit. Your pussy walls contracting around him and pulling him even deeper inside. You called out his name and then he wildly thrust in and out of your body until he came with a loud groan. Sid fell on top of you, your arms collapsing from your orgasm and the weight of him. Only when you both dropped to the mattress did he roll onto his side, taking you with. "Fuck, I needed that."

His hands caressed your body, just a feather-light touch that calmed you both as you floated back to reality. "Me too," you mumbled as his cock slipped out of you. Turning so that you could face him, you cupped his cheek, only noticing then, that he'd shaved his playoff beard off already. "I know it doesn't make up for the loss but I hope you enjoyed that present."

His signature lop-sided grin appeared on his face. "More than you know." His hands now rubbing your ass where he had spanked you. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

A light chuckle escaped your mouth. "No, I enjoyed it."

"Mmm, me too." His hand that was making circles on your ass stopped and you felt him pulling away, only you didn't want him to. This opportunity would probably never happen again and you wanted to enjoy it just a little longer.

"Stay," you found yourself saying and you weren't a hundred percent sure as to why. Every other fling you'd had in this damn hotel had been just that, a quick mating of two people and as soon as it was over, you left or asked them to. But this right here with Sid, something was different. Your mind told you that nothing would ever come of this. That Sid would go on his way back to Pittsburgh or Cole Harbour and go on with things, just as you would here, but you wanted to savor this moment just a little longer.

"Are you sure?" you nodded yes to his question, as you didn't trust your voice at the moment. "Well since you insist." His lips captured yours again, this time the kiss soft and sweet, and you were back to being those two high school kids that were on the couch in the first blush of love. It was not something you wanted to dwell on as you felt your heart give way to this man. When you finally broke apart, the smile on his face had you half falling in love with him. "Sleep, and then we can have another round before I have to leave."

You hated that last part, why did it have to be this way. If only the Pens had won, you thought, but then would you be in this position right now if they had? Would Sid have kept you at arm's length focusing solely on hockey? Your mind ran through a million scenarios, all of them ending the same way and so you told yourself that this was just a fascination with one of hockey's elite players and that the moment he was gone you'd move on. By the time you finally got your racing thoughts under control, Sid was fast asleep. He looked so peaceful as if he didn't have a care in the world and you supposed now that his season was over, he didn't. But the season was still going on for sixteen other teams and you. You needed to focus on them.

Reaching over, you grabbed your phone to check the time, only to notice you'd missed a call and several text messages from Tyler. Tyler, you thought with a wistful sigh. You still had that bet with him. Technically, you'd won for here you were, your body sated from its activities with Sidney. You looked back over at the man, who was sleeping with his arms wrapped around your body. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you decided to snap the picture that would prove as evidence of what had transpired tonight, then you hurriedly set the phone back on the nightstand. Now the only question was, did you send it to Tyler or just keep it as a memory to look back on for years to come.

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sunnypogue · 4 years ago

Note

Can you do one where rafe visits you at your half time job after practice with his friends

based off that one tiktok I posted a while ago but can’t be bothered to link bc I’m on my phone.

—

since you were paying for college on your own, you had picked up a part-time job at a local diner - something you had been balancing since your freshman year.

it was decent job - you were never scheduled for weekends, the clientele was mostly older locals, and your regulars liked you enough to tip well.

well, one of your regulars.

“baby!” a voice boomed through the almost-empty diner, the little bell on the door ringing in the background.

your head shot up, almost missing the cup you were refilling at table seven. you shot your obnoxious boyfriend and his friends a glare, before apologizing to the woman you had almost dumped water all over. she gave you a wordless grimace in return.

you turned away from the table, smoothing your red apron down, before pointing a finger at a booth in the corner of the restaurant. “go.”

rafe and his three teammates grinned, shoving their way to their table.

it had become a bit of a tradition for rafe to visit you on your Tuesday night shifts. his practice ended an hour before your shift, so he would kill time by ordering some food and watching you attempt to balance plates on a tray.

it had also become a tradition for him to practice his shitty pick up lines on you while you worked.

“what do you guys want?” you asked, approaching the table of sweaty hockey players.

“hey honey - you on the menu?” rafe grinned.

you gave him a blank look, “okay, bud light and a burger for you. anyone else hungry?”

when you brought their beers over, rafe leaned over just enough to smack your ass (which was sensitive from the night before), causing you to squeal - of course, drawing attention from the other patrons.

“rafe,” you hissed, smacking at him. “I’m at WORK.”

“and you make it look so good.”

rafe gave a deep wolf whistle when you returned with the food (and another round of beers) - in retaliation, you grabbed a handful of his fries.

third round of beers had him asking for your number - you wrote it down, handing it to his teammate clark, instead.

“call me,” you whispered, giving clark a wink, before giving rafe the finger.

rafe just laughed.

the bill consisted of you sliding the receipt on the table, only for rafe to immediately throw down two $100 bills.

“keep the change, you little slut.”

you gasped, looking back at the lone customer at the bar. “baby!” you hissed, half embarrassed, half turned on.

“yeah, you little whore.”

you blinked, turning your attention to the right hand side of the booth, where rafe’s teammate james sat.

the table was silent.

you flushed, going to gather the check, when you watched rafe lean over the table, hands gripping the sides.

“you wanna fucking die, bud?”

you watched as james’ mouth opened and shut twice, trying to summon the words to explain why the fuck he said what he said.

“you don’t get to say that shit. got it?”

james nodded. you blushed, smacking rafe’s arm. “no brawling. this is a family establishment.”

rafe sat back down, turning his attention back to you.

“yeah? I bet we can make it...not a family establishment.”

you groaned, “jesus christ rafe. what does that even mean?”

he grinned, “whatever you want it to mean, baby.”

#outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron #drew starkey #obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #asks #she speaks

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years ago

Text

Give your heart a break

I did in fact scream about how much I hate and love the Bruins while in the middle of Kohl’s today, so there’s that. I also wore my Harvard hockey shirt again and another person asked me if I played for the team so next time someone asks I’m just saying yes.

This was requested ages ago (because y’all know I’m the worst when it comes to doing things in a timely manner), so I hope the anon who requested this likes it!

This was also inspired by Give Your Heart A Break by Demi Lovato!

----------------

You were on stage, loving the rush that every performance came with despite how tired you were. Now almost done with your second tour, you couldn’t believe this was your life. Your favorite song that you sang during this tour wasn’t even one of your own; Give Your Heart a Break was the only cover you performed. Every lyric seemed to mirror your relationship, despite being released before you were a teenager.

“Alright, we’re going to change things up a bit, and switch over to a song written by one of my favorite artists: Miss Demi Lovato. I hope you guys like it,” you say as the violin melody that provided the beat started to play, drawing out the sound of the crowd as you got lost in the song.

The day I first met you, you told me you’ll never fall in love.

Singing the song takes you back to that night at the bar, out with your friends in your hometown. Your friend, Rebecca insisted you go out to this particular bar when she found out the Vancouver Canucks were going to be there seeing as she was slightly too obsessed with the group of men. You weren’t too invested the reason why you were going there, you just wanted to go out with your friends before leaving for what was going to be a way too long, three month tour around North America, your first one ever.

“To Y/N and her tour!” Bex leads your friends toasting the first round, “let’s hope it’s successful so that when she comes back she can pay for our drinks!”

You roll your eyes, everyone agreeing as you sarcastically say, “Very funny.” They continue to banter, Bex with her eye on the hockey players sitting at the table across from yours. She was purposefully being loud enough for them to hear her say she knew someone going on tour, but that could mean a lot of things when you think about it. It was enough to catch the attention of some of them, causing them to look over and see what the commotion was about. But you weren’t too interested in anything. Leaving within the next week meant you had to focus on nothing besides your career.

Your friends kept talking about how excited they were for you, but you weren’t paying attention. Only one of the guys at the other table had caught your eye: you weren’t sure if it was because he looked tired and like he didn’t really want to be there, sort of like you, or because of something else, but there was something that drew you to him. Apparently you caught his eye, too, since the two of you spent about five minutes doing what your friend would probably refer to as ‘eye fucking,’ even though you really hated that term. She would think that you were both mentally undressing each other, both of you fully aware of what was going on.

You get up to get yourself another drink, praying that he would follow you to the bar. If he did, you would talk to him. But, no, you couldn’t start anything. Who the hell starts something and then leaves for three months? It’s not like you were the type of person who did a hookup, either, but who knows? No, wait. You were overthinking things, like normal. How the hell do you even know what he wants? You don’t unless he tells you. He had to follow you to the bar first.

You order your drink, your back turned towards your friends and the Canucks. “Put it on my tab,” you hear from behind you as you’re about to hand the bartender your card. You turn around, seeing the tired boy standing behind you, trying to weasel his way next to you. “Quinn,” he introduces himself, “I hope you don’t mind. If you don’t want it I’ll just drink it and have you pay for another one.”

You laugh at how nervous he sounds, introducing yourself and telling him it was fine that he was buying the drink for you. “My friends said next time I’m home, drinks are on me, so might as well save up while I can.”

“You have that tour coming up, right?” he asks, you shocked that he would even know that before remembering how loud Bex was. Hockey players didn’t strike you as the type of guys to listen to your music, but then again, you remember Rebecca saying this team was watching Gossip Girl together, so anything was possible. “Sorry, I kinda listen to your music. What’s it called, the By the Book Tour?”

You groan at hearing someone say the name out loud. “I really actually love that you listen to my music but it is so important to me that you know I did not come up with that name.”

He laughs, starting a conversation about your music, his hockey, everything else in between. The conversation somehow managed to get really deep really fast. “Wait, but you have all those songs about being in love and the perfect guy and all that stuff.”

“Well, yeah, since I’m still new in the industry I have to write what sells and ‘build a fan base’ as my manager says before I can start writing what I really feel,” you say, rolling your eyes, “And I think I was in love and falling out of love when I wrote those songs, but I don’t know what real love is. You don’t know what it is until you actually experience it.”

“So you don’t think you’ve been in love before?” he asks.

“No. Have you?”

He stops for a minute, trying to think before shaking his head, “Nope. I don’t think I ever will be.”

You look at him, shocked that he would even admit something like that to someone he just met. “Really? Never? You don’t think there’s someone out there for you that you could fall in love with?”

“Nah. Who’s got the time? I mean, traveling for most of the year for hockey? How can I? You’ve got to understand: you’re about to be traveling for three straight months and then who knows what comes next. How can you even find time for love?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, thinking about it seriously for the first time, “I think that,” you pause, trying to find the words, “I think that everyone is destined for love, regardless of how they get there. People who don’t want it might just be afraid of the pain that would come with losing it.”

He looks at you, eyebrows raised, not like he’s shocked but impressed, instead. “I can tell you write your own songs,” he takes a long sip of his drink, finishing off the glass, “That was pretty poetic.”

----------

You look out at the crowd, knowing exactly where they were sitting. He had the biggest smile on his face, the other guys, surprisingly, looking like they were enjoying themselves, too.

Now here we are, so close, yet so far. Haven’t I passed the test? When will you realize: baby, I’m not like the rest?

After a month on tour, one of your shows happened to be in the same town that the Canucks were playing that night, so Quinn had suggested you meet up after your show and his game for drinks. It seemed that a lot of your upcoming tour dates and his away games matched up, some sort of weird but welcome coincidence.

“Hey, Quinn!” you say as soon as you see him, practically jumping up from the table where you were waiting for him. You two had been talking nonstop since the night you met, but his words always haunted you, changing the flutter in your heart when his name popped up to absolute heartbreak: he doesn’t think he’ll ever be in love. Especially when you were sure you were falling in love with him.

“Hey, how was the show?” he says, wrapping you in a tight hug. Even after just playing a game, he smelt so good.

“It was fine, not one of my best, but hey, the fans seemed to love it. As long as they’re happy, I’m happy,” you say. The trust was, you were already exhausted. Before every show, it seemed like, you were doing nonstop conferences, photoshoots, other promos like meet and greets, having your manager talk to you about your set list as if it weren’t the same each night, rehearsal, sound checks, costume, wardrobe, and so much more. You weren’t sure you had more than five hours of sleep in the last three days. You weren’t exactly sure how you were going to keep up.

“You’re exhausted already?” he asks, as if he were reading your mind. You look at him, confused how he could have known that. “Even under the makeup you’re still wearing from tonight, I can see the bags under your eyes. Look, they’re the same as mine,” he says, laughing, pointing to his eyes.

“I just, I knew it was going to be hard, but wow, I never thought it would be like this,” you admit, laughing at how that sounds. Something worth it is never easy, so why should this be any different.

“But you love it, so who cares?” he asks.

“Very true.” The two of you sit there in silence for a moment, surprised it wasn’t as awkward as you expected it to be. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Are you afraid of love?” you ask, bluntly. But after that night you met, you had to know. It had been swirling around in your head the time. The more you talked to him, the more you swear you could see yourself falling in love with him if you could spend time with him, like you were right now, but was it worth falling in love with someone who didn’t love you back?

He looks slightly shocked at the question, but you could tell it was something he had thought about before. “Well, I wouldn’t say afraid. I just don’t think right now it’s worth it. I mean, before I moved to Vancouver, girls would say they liked me because they thought I was going to be a professional athlete. So I would end up falling for them, then when I wasn’t in the NHL fast enough for their liking, they would dump me, and I’d be left just, standing there,” he says, not making eye contact with you. You can see his face getting red, obviously getting a little upset but trying to hold it in. “I mean, I don’t have time, you’re the only girl I talk to at this point who isn’t dating one of the other guys and isn’t my mom.”

You don’t know why, but hearing that from him made you want to cry. Unable to look at him, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from doing that, pushing the food on your plate around with your fork. You were right there, constantly flirting with each other while you were on the phone, anytime Quinn was with the guys you could hear them teasing him about how excited he got when your name popped up on his phone, or when your songs came on the radio. Your band knew that when you were alone, you were probably talking to Quinn, getting to the point where they had some sort of code word to talk about you and him.

You thought he liked you. You were so close to getting him, and you thought that’s what he wanted. If he asked you out on a real date right then, not just two friends getting together, you would say yes with no hesitation. When is he going to understand that you aren’t those girls from his home who would dump him when he wasn’t doing what you wanted him to with hockey? Who does something like that anyway?

-------

You felt like you were staring at him the entire time you were singing, knowing that he couldn’t take his eyes off you either.

On Sunday you went home alone, there were tears in your eyes. I call your cell phone, my love, but you did not reply.

Another night on tour, another night where your schedule lined up with the Canucks away games. You had no idea where you were at this point, you just knew you were exhausted, leaving in the morning for the next city and planning on sleeping on the bus the entire time, praying there was no reason for anyone to bother you when you arrived in the next city Sunday night. After the show, Quinn had invited you out again, the guys celebrating some big win that you didn’t know the significance of. You really didn’t care that much, especially since it was something that made him happy, so you went along and met him anyway, despite the fact that your veins had more coffee and energy drinks coursing through them than they did actual blood. You were getting there after the guys were, trying to find their table. The bar was crowded enough as it was, trying to find them taking way too long.

“Where’s that singer girl?” one of them asked. You still didn’t know his teammates well enough by name to know who said it, all you could tell was that he was blonde.

“She should be on here by now,” Quinn says, checking his phone to see if you had sent him anything. He had no idea you were a few feet away.

“Look at Huggy bear, already whipped by a girl he won’t close on,” another one teases.

“Ok, first of all, I am not whipped. She’s my friend. Second off, we will not talk about her like that, regardless of if she’s coming here right now or not,” you hear Quinn trying to defend you, even though the boys kept teasing him about you. Whatever, part of your career was criticism, this was just part of it.

You finally make your way through the people to get to the table, Quinn’s eyes lighting up when he sees you. You had to admit, you melted a little seeing him, despite him just putting you in the friendzone, him not knowing that you heard that. But were you really ready to sit with his friends knowing that they were teasing him about you?

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Quinn whispers into your ear, pulling you in for a hug and sending chills down your spine.

“And miss seeing you again? Please, I’m always up for seeing a friend,” you say. You swear he flinched when you said friend, but he said it first in your defense. You could already tell this night was going to end badly somehow, and none of you wanted to find out how.

He leads you over to the table of guys, none of them seeming to notice that you and Quinn had returned. The entire night was pretty much spent with Quinn pretty much ignoring you and only paying attention to the guys. They acted like you weren’t even there.

“I’m going to go get another drink,” you say, annoyed at Quinn, motioning to the empty bottle sitting in front of you.

Quinn nods, getting up with you “I’ll come with you.” You feel his hand on the small of your back, leading you from behind through the crowd to the bar. You couldn’t help your heart beating faster at this touch, something so intimate even though it probably meant nothing to him. The two of you sit down, you obviously bothered by the way the night was going. “Hey, I’m sorry for the guys,” Quinn apologizes, studying your face, “Are you ok?”

“No,” you admit. “You’ve been ignoring me the entire night. What’s the matter with you?”

He bites his lip, looking back and forth between you and the guys while he tries to figure out what to say. “The guys think I’m falling in love with you so they tease me about it.”

You stare at him for a moment. Could the guys be right? Could Quinn actually have the same feelings about you that you did for him? “Well are you?” you ask, knowing that it was the alcohol in your system.

“Am I what?”

“Are you falling in love with me?”

“No.”

“Oh,” is all you can let out, looking down at the drink the bartender had given you. You didn’t want to drink it. Honestly, you just wanted to throw it in his face and storm out. You couldn’t believe he was doing this to you. You look up at him, his face red, him not able to make eye contact with you. He was lying. You know he was.

“I can’t,” he says, his voice small and wavering like he was about to cry.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You can, too, fall in love, because you know what? I’m falling in love with you, and my schedule is just as busy as yours. So stop being afraid of letting people in because you don’t want to get hurt. All that does is hurt the people around you who are trying to care for you.” You sit there for a second, waiting for his response. When he doesn’t say anything, you get up and leave, before he can see you crying.

You take out your phone, trying to dial Bex as you make your way back to the hotel you were staying in. “Hey, babe, what’s up? It’s late.”

“I hate him,” you sob into your phone, knowing it wasn’t true. “He was so close to telling me he loved me, and he just looked at me and said he won’t.”

“Whoa, whoa, back up. What do you mean?” she says. You recount the night to her, Quinn not paying attention to you and then pretty much breaking your heart right there. “Ugh. what a bitch. He should be lucky to love you.”

You can’t help but smile, even though you were still upset about what had happened. You hear your phone beeping. Taking a look at the incoming call, you decline it, “He’s trying to call me.”

“Nope. Don’t answer.”

“Not gonna. Not for a while.”

-------

You open your eyes, not even realizing that you had them closed. For a moment, it seemed like you were just singing to him, no one else around you even though you knew the venue was full.

When your lips are on my lips, and our hearts beat as one, but you slip out of my fingertips every time you run.

“So how does it feel knowing that this is the last night of your first full tour,” Bex says on the other end of the phone. The last night was in Vancouver, meaning that all of your friends who said goodbye to you three months ago finally got to see you again, and go out and celebrate with you again.

“I’m so ready to sleep in my own bed, I’m fucking exhausted,” you tell her, sitting in the dressing room and looking at yourself in the mirror. You still had three more hours before you were supposed to take the stage, but you could already hear the audience going crazy. It felt so surreal, traveling around America and performing in front of thousands of people every night. You had never in your wildest dreams thought you would actually be doing this.

Your thoughts and reminiscing are interrupted by a knock on your door. “Hey, Bex. I gotta go, I’ll see you tonight? You have the passes ready to see me right after the show?”

“Yep, love ya, you’re gonna kill it. See ya,” she says, hanging up.

“Come in!” you call, not getting up from your seat. You were sure it was your manager, who always insisted that you stay in your seat instead of ‘tiring yourself and using energy to get the door.’ The door opens, seeing him in the reflection of your mirror. Practically jumping out of your chair, you run over to him, having not seen him since that night you left crying. “What are you doing here?”

The two of you had been talking again, but it took a while for you to be able to get comfortable with him again. Being told that someone refuses to fall in love with you is heartbreaking, especially when you were in love with them. But at this point, all you had to do was focus on the tour and repress your feelings, and you were doing pretty well until you saw him in your doorway.

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” Quinn says, his hands snaking their way around your waist. His lips crash to yours, you stunned by what was going on before relaxing into it. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging the soft strands when his grip tightens around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your mind went blank, still unable to process that he was actually here.

He finally pulls away, your foreheads resting against each other, both of you with smiles on your face. “I don’t understand?” you say. He said he couldn’t love you. You talked all the time about how you weren’t really the ‘hook-up types.’ So why did he just kiss you? Why was he here before your show?

“I’m sorry,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut, “I don’t want the pain of losing someone, so I close myself off. You are everything to me. I don’t think I let myself fall in love because I never found someone who I could see myself being with until I met you.”

“You’re not going to run away this time, are you?”

“No.”

Another knock at your door startles you before you can say or do anything else. Your manager pokes their head in, “We need you for the pre-show warm-ups?” they ask, as if you were able to say no. “Are you staying here or finding a seat?” they motion to Quinn.

“Finding a seat,” he says, running his hand through his hair.

“I’ll see you after?” you say to him, giving him another quick kiss before running out to get ready for the final show of the tour.

-----

You finish the song, the crowd cheering. You find Quinn and the boys sitting in their seats. You go through the rest of the show, still not able to pry your eyes away from Quinn. The second you saw him sitting the crowd, you nearly started crying; he had said he wasn’t going to be able to see you on this tour because of his hockey season. So not only did he technically lie, he surprised you and took all the guys to see you perform, too.

After the show, you can hear the guys coming back to see you through the closed door of your dressing room. Opening it before they can knock, you nearly knock Quinn over, jumping into his arms and kissing him right in front of the guys.

“Who woulda thought that Q here would have actually landed a girl?” Brock asks.

“Hey, it was bound to happen at some point, look at the child,” Jake adds, “Even if it was with someone who sings about love all the time,” he teases you.

“I make just as much money as you do and all you do is chase a small rubber thing over a slippery surface. At least I create music people listen to while most of your fans just yell at you to shoot the puck,” you shoot back, the guys laughing.

“Come on, give her a break,” Quinn finally adds, “I mean look at her, how could I not love her?” he asks, the guys groaning at how mushy he was as as you plant a kiss on his cheek.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagines #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks imagines #canucks #canucks imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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hewwocopter · 3 years ago

Text

Bros. Here’s a little taste of what I write when I’m not writing fanfiction, but rather my own original works. I wrote this at the end of 2019, so my writing is bound to be different than it is now, but I think you guys will get a kick out of it!

Also, all my two brain cells are spent on writing fanfiction.

Two McFricking Idiots

Sam and Cheyenne go to the mall.

Sam was bored.

Scratch that, he was extremely bored. Sam isn’t sure that he’s ever felt this bored before, but hey, there’s a first time for everything.

Like that one time he nailed Chicky in the face with a pie? Sure she nearly beat the crap out of him but it was totally worth her reaction. He’d pay to see her get hit in the face again.

Preferably with him ten miles away when that happens of course...

Sam groaned and flopped onto his back, staring up at the sky. He was in a park under a tree, laying in the grass. Cheyenne was sitting next to him staring into space (he could tell she was just as bored as he was). It was mostly void of people as it was too hot for anyone to spend their spare time sweating all over the grass.

Unless they were total idiots.

Which that description fit Sam and Chey perfectly.

Which was why they were here.

Actually, the main reason they were starting to form into puddles of fur and flesh was because Chicky had kicked them out of the house. Apparently, she couldn’t handle a little prank! Who cares if the house was on fire, they could just get another!

Chey looked over at him. “First time?”

“If you don’t stop making meme references I will be forced to skin you alive.”

The cat stopped and stared at him. “But you love meme references, man.”

Sam groaned. “Not if it’s a hundred degree weather and I’m too hot to care about anything right now!” He threw his arms up in the air and let them fall to the ground in defeat. “There’s gotta be something we can do about this.”

”Well, we can either take our fur off which would be incredibly painful, or we can go back to the h-e-double-hockey-sticks which is our house. Which is in flames right now.” She stopped and flicked her ear up. “I can still hear the sirens from the fire trucks, actually.”

Sam snorted. “And my mixtape.”

Chey let out a laugh. “Heyyy! There we go! You’re getting back into the meme spirit already! Although that meme has been dead for like, a year man.”

“Nyehhh. I’m too hot to care.” Sam rolled back onto his stomach, muffling his words into the grass.

There wasn’t much to say after that, so the two sat in silence. An occasional breeze blew into their sweat matted fur, which was blissful for Sam.

After a few minutes, Sam shot straight back up, startling Chey.

“We have to do something!”

“You said that five minutes ago.”

“This time it’s for real. I’m getting sick and tired of this heat,” He stood up, legs tingly from sitting down for so long. “I’m going to get some daggone AC.”

Chey hummed, as though entertaining his thoughts. “That doesn’t sound too bad, actually... where would we go, though?”

Sam smiled, looking down at her. “The store. They’ve got some ice cream and stuff there, duh.”

“That’s a fantastic idea and all, but weren’t we banned from all stores within a twenty mile radius of our house?”

“...”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about....”

A deadpan look. “You were going around the fish section at the grocery, dumping out the fish tanks yelling ‘BE FREE, MY FISH CHILDREN! BE FREE!’”

“I was releasing them from their captivity! And you’re not so innocent either! You were there with me, helping me dump out the tanks!”

“Hey! I’m not about to deny a free snack when I see one!”

“...Fair.”

Chey huffed. “Aight. Good thing we came to an agreement.”

“...Uh huh.”

More silence.

“Remember that one time at Taco Bell where we harassed the employees?”

“Wait, which time? There was that one where you pelted a jerk with Mild Sauce packets and the other where you flipped over three tables before you had to be forcibly removed from the premises.”

Sam piped in. “Hey- don’t forget about when you made their soda fountain explode!”

“Ahh, good times, good times.”

“Yyyyep.”

For what seemed like horrible pacing and a long time, they sat there reminiscing about their shenanigans.

“Wanna go to the mall?”

“Frick yeah.”

—

The two preteens (although they very much did not look like preteens) walked down the tile floor of the mall through the crowd of people. Some looked down and recognized them from their previous... adventures, wisely stepping out of their way.

Pff. Weenies.

There was a wide variety of smells, some varying from delicious foods to even MORE delicious foods. It made Cheyenne’s mouth water. Maybe they could go to the pretzel stand at some point...

They were walking past the generic toy shop when Sam stopped abruptly. “Here!”

Chey looked up at the store, then peered inside of it. There were children bounding around from one display to another, begging their parents to get one.

“Here?”

“I can feel it. There is something in there... it’s... it’s drawing me towards it.”

“You said that at Taco Bell when you snuck into their kitchen and ate their entire supply of nacho fries… which you remember how well that ended, but let’s go anyway.”

“Heck yeah.”

Without further ado, they stepped inside.

Some of the parents took one look at them and dropped the toy they were holding, picked up their child,, and left. One of them even hoisted their daughter over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She hadn’t even paid for the doll that the kid was holding.

Well, that was somewhat uncalled for. They hadn’t even done anything yet!

“Sam, what did you say about...?” She trailed off when she saw that the anthropomorphic boy was gone.

She looked around the store, seeing a brunette robot- lady- whatever she was, holding a nerf machine gun. When the lady turned, she was holding the item with a malicious grin as well as a glint in her eyes. Chey stepped back, opting to look for Sam.

“Oh. My. God.”

“Sam?”

“CHEY LOOK I FOUND HIM!”

“Him?” Chey frowned as she rounded the display with a yellow mouse wearing sunglasses and holding a machine gun on it. Behind it, Sam was hugging a box in his arms.

“Wassat?”

“Our child.”

“...What.”

“Hear me out, Chey.”

“You have a few seconds to explain to me why you’re hugging a water gun, before we get kicked out of the store.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Chey could see the store cashier nervously hiding behind the counter, presumably calling for security. They hadn’t. Even. Done anything yet! Give them a break!!

“This... this is no water gun, Chey. He’s special. I can feel it.”

“You’re hugging the box, so, yeah, I guess you can feel it...”

“Nonono! I can FEEL. IT. This water gun- he’s destined for greatness! And that’s with us!”

Chey could hear the footsteps of the security guards coming their way. “Sam...”

“C’mon, Chey! Pleeeease?”

One look into those puppy dog eyes- those dang eyes- had Chey caving in. “Fine, man! Let’s pay for it and get the heck outta here.”

At that moment, the guards stepped into the store. Parents and their kids were looking around confusedly, until their eyes laid on the sight that was Chey and Sam. Another mother picked up her son, hauled him over her shoulders like sandbags, and booked it out of there.

Goodness.

Sam was already on it, though. He jumped and grabbed Chey with his tail, dragging her towards the entrance. She barely had time to throw the money at the cashier, who was cowering behind the counter.

They were met with resistance of course, but Sam was prepared. Somehow the water gun had made it out of the box, and Sam whacked the guard in the face with it.

“VIBE CHECK!”

Another smack, the guard letting out curses as Sam cackled wildly. He let go of Chey and they bolted into the main area of the mall. People were scattering as soon as they saw the two hellions make their way towards the foot court.

One of the guards behind them yelled out. “Oi! Get back-! You’re not supposed to be here!”

Sam, being the entity of chaos he was, ignored the men and went straight for the tables. Chey resisted the urge to groan as he slid under them, knocking them over (while people were still eating at them no less) in an effort to... well, Chey had no idea what he was doing, actually.

Chey shook her head as she sidestepped fallen chairs and the mess of food that littered the floor. Sam was up ahead of her, crashing into more tables and chairs.

The normal noisy chatter of the food court soon became loud yelling and screaming as the customers tried to avoid the onslaught of the entity that was Sam. There was no escape, however. Chey had learned that the hard way.

“SAM!”

Somehow, somehow- Sam had spawned a sock in his hand. He held the water gun in the other, while spinning the sock in circles uncontrollably. There was something at the end of it, and oh g-

More tables went down as the sock knocked them over. It hit people too, socking some in the stomach as they fell down in defeat. The boy(?) left a trail of fallen tables and people behind him as he continued his escape.

Chicky was going to murder them...

Although, this scenario has happened many times before. Why would it be any different this time? Eh, they’d live.

...Hopefully.

#you don’t need to know anything about them to read!#go ham!!#hewwocs #writing #posted 6/27/21 #it’s a butter sock. he was holding a butter sock #the people are fine; just tired of Sam’s bs #hewwo writes

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puckngrind · 4 years ago

Text

What’s In a Name: 3 - J Toews

Chapter 3

Where we left off: Bekah dropped Jon off at the airport after the 2015 All-Star game but how was he going to see her again before the end of the season when they lived over 300 miles apart...

Warnings: Smut, swearing

Word count: 3,370

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Unexpected.

Bekah‘s brain would go from shock to denial every time her phone would vibrate and she would see a text from Jon. It was unexpected each and every time. Mostly his texts were random and out of the blue but with the intention of making sure she remembered him. Bekah never thought she would hear from him after dropping him off at Port Columbus airport in January if she was being honest with herself. It was three weeks later and there were hundreds of mini conversations between the two of them.

“So have you requested off for our trip?” Brynn leans into Bekah’s office with lunch in hand. Bekah tries to wipe her smile off her face but her best friend catches it. “Whoooo are you texting?”

“No one. Wait, what trip?” Bekah places the phone down but sees the notification that Jon has messaged again.

“Chicago with the Lady Jackets? Please tell me you remember this from Christmas? My gift to you was the trip. We will go shopping and catch the Blackhawks playing the Jackets. Have some girl time.” Brynn sits the food on Bekah’s desk and tucks her feet under herself.

“Oh! I kinda forgot with the whole being dumped thing but that actually sounds fun.” Bekah eyes her phone as it buzzes again. The thought of if she should tell Jon or not crossed her mind.

“You actually seem to be doing okay with the whole being single thing...” Rin starts taking in the way her friend was looking at the message and had a look of confusion now. “What’s that look for Bekah? What did you just think of? Who are you texting?” Brynn breathes in ready to ask more questions.

“Rin. Stop. Please. I was just thinking about the time I need to take off and the accounts I have. Let’s eat lunch m’kay?” Brynn stops the line of questioning but her expression is one of inquiry. “So is there an agenda for the trip or just the girls hanging out? Hotel reservations?”

“We have some things planned. It’s the WAGS and some of the wives from the staff and women who work for the team. You will have your own room. I‘ll be with Derek...”. Brynn stops and looks at Bekah’s contorted faced.

“WAGS?” Bekah asks with her eyebrows furrowed trying to place the term.

“Wives and girlfriends...of the players. Despite public opinion they aren’t all blonde models and are all very sweet. You’ve met a few before.”

“WAGS. Interesting.” Bekah’s eyes dart to her phone again. “Public opinion. Hmm.” Bekah takes a bite of her sandwich.

“I don’t know how to read that but you can google it if you want.” Brynn points to the laptop on Bekah’s desk. “There are whole social media accounts devoted to each team.”

“Oh, I was just processing that’s all. I’m sure I’ll remember them when we get together.” Bekah continues eating her lunch.

“Well, take off and I’ll see you later.” Brynn pops up and as soon as she rounded the corner Bekah was typing ‘Blackhawks WAGS’ into her search engine. Several pictures down she sees a picture of Jon with his hand wrapped around a blonde who could easily be in any magazine. She huffed out the breath she was holding then cussed softly. Realizing she was at work she checked to see if anyone was in ear shot. Bekah decided then and there as the heat filled her face that she was not going to tell him she was coming into town. Her phone buzzed again.

Jon: 🤪

Jon: Was that not funny?

Jon: how was lunch with Rin?

Bekah: always funny. the usual and learned the term WAGS.

Jon: OH! I would pretend not to know what the hell you are talking but I won’t. Please don’t read too much into the public perception of the NHL type

Bekah stared long at Jon’s text before answering. He kept doing that in their conversation. Anticipating what she was thinking without her saying anything. She couldn’t decide if she liked it or not.

Bekah: Rin was just saying the CBJ girls are nice that’s all. We were talking about our next game.

Jon: I know a few. I would agree with Rin.

Bekah goes to question who and why then realizes she noticed during the All-star game they all seemed to know each other even being on different teams.

Bekah: I still haven’t told her about All-Star weekend or this texting thing we do btw.

Bekah wasn’t sure why she felt the need to tell him this now.

Jon: maybe you should. She’s your best friend but that’s up to you. Need to go workout. Later Beks.

March came. Bekah realized she was more nervous about the trip than expected. She packed and repacked her bag. Considered just telling Jon then the picture of the girl with her arm around him and his hand resting on her ass was enough to convince her not to.

Her phone vibrates as soon as starts walking down to the hotel bar to meet the ladies.

Jon: are you in Chicago?

Bekah: how do you know that?

Jon: on the plane back from Philly and I see a post that the Lady Jackets are headed to Chicago and I’m sure that’s your braided hair at the top of the steps.

Jon sends her the pic. Bekah’s face floods red as her hand combs over her go to travel braid.

Bekah: yeah. I wasn’t sure if I’d have time to see you.

Jon: are you fucking kidding me Beks?

she goes to text back and her phone vibrates again

Jon: I’ve been trying to figure out how to see you before playoffs.

Bekah: really? What about the blonde model I saw in a picture tagged as your girlfriend? I know we said no expectations but I’m not that kinda girl.

Jon: Is that why you’ve not texted me back as much? You think you are just some side piece? Come on! There is no other girl. Scroll up. Look at our conversation.

Bekah stares at his words and before she can even text him back he’s calling. She looks around and answers.

“Hhhh...” Bekah nervously starts to answer.

“Don’t fucking make me use my sources to find your hotel room! That’s not beneath my need to see you.” This makes her smile at his tone. She can feel his desire and sheer annoyance through the phone.

“Maybe I should.” She giggles and he huffs out his disapproval but gives him the information anyway.

“I’ll see you in one hour. One hour Beks.” With that he hangs up the phone.

“Who are you talk to?” Brynn hands Bekah a drink from the bar.

“My mom.”

“I call bull shit. One, I know your mother is asleep. Plus, I see the look on your face and the pink in your cheeks...but if you don’t want to tell me right now that’s fine. I’m just glad you are getting back out there.” Bekah looks down at her best friend and sips.

“I’m not...” Bekah tries to combat the statement but stops.

“That was a statement not a question. And we don’t have to talk about it.” Brynn sips her cocktail taking in her best friend’s demeanor.

“Thanks Rin.” The ladies chatted and Bekah was thankful about 50 minutes after Jon announced he would be there the group decided to head to their respective rooms.

Just like after the All-Star game, the man was clock work, ten minutes after Bekah shut her hotel room door there was a knock. Her heart skipped a beat and she slid open the door to find Jon just as handsome with a small bag in hand. “Hi Beks.” He walked in and drops his bag.

“Hi Tae.” She breathes out before his lips were on her. His weight pressing Bekah against the wall a slight whimper escaped her lips.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about kissing you again since the moment I left your car.” His lips ghost her pulse points.

“Really?”

“Beks, we aren’t doing this again. Yes, I find you smokin’ hot and have been thinking about this moment for too long.” He slides his hands under her thighs and carries her to the bed. “I’m slightly pissed you didn’t tell me and we could have started this an hour ago.”

“Sorry. I got in my own head. The google search.” Her breath hitches in her throat thinking of the perfect blonde.

“You didn’t click on the post, did ya? You missed the time stamp, Babe. She was my girlfriend two years ago and that’s been long over. Remember our conversation about being used for my status? She was one of those.” Jon looks deep into Bekah’s eyes. “The internet doesn’t just delete it even if you break up.” His hand cups her cheek as he kisses her lightly.

“Well I decided not to google you at all just so you know.” Her hands re-familiarizing themselves with his abs. “How was your game?” She kisses him sweetly and he smirks.

“We lost. More sex then we talk, kay?” Jon pulls off his sweater then unbuckles and slides his pants off.

“Did ya score?” Bekah follows his lead and pulls off her clothing.

“No and I wasn’t planning on it tonight and look who showed up in my city.” His body was pressed against hers then he kisses down her body making Bekah moan with each move Jon makes. Jon slips his fingers between her folds and laughs. “Your body says you’ve missed me.” He smirks and Bekah’s hands fly over her eyes.

“Well I have thought about you a lot since January too...and the hour waiting got me all worked up...just come here.” She lifts and pulls at his neck. He follows her lead and slowly presses into her core. Kissing each other with so much need that when their teeth knock together laughter erupts.

“Fuck I’m sorry.” Jon kisses Bekah again.

“I think that was both of us. But you gotta move Tae.” Bekah pulls her legs up and presses her heals into his ass. Jon finds a rhythm that makes both of them find their highs quickly. Panting as he rolls off her and pulls her to his chest.

“Seriously, so glad you came to Chicago.” Jon lifts up and kisses the top of Bekah’s head.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just don’t know what this is and I saw the flawless girl...and I just...” Jon adjusts Bekah’s body so he can stare deep into her hazel eyes.

“You are exactly what I need, you know? Also, did you say you haven’t googled me Beks?” Bekah nods and he continues. “Well I don’t care if you do or don’t just so you know.”

“Thanks.” Bekah winces. “I don’t care about the hockey stuff but the social stuff just makes meee....I don’t know. Feel weird.” Bekah admits honestly.

“Not that I think you will see this if ya did but I will admit I’ve been on a date since we were together but you, Beks, are the last person I’ve slept with. You don’t have to believe me but it’s only been you.” Jon kisses her lips sweetly.

“Well, I went on a horrible date for Valentines Day. Rin was on this getting me back there train and I tried to say no.” Bekah draws circles on Jon’s chest and closes her eyes thinking of the horrible date. “It was actually the 15th and you were on the damn television. I was distracted and the man was boring as hell.”

“I was on the tv?” Jon questions kissing her cheek and trying hard not to laugh.

“Yeah, you had an assist and scored in the shoot out. I cursed my body that night for how watching you made me feel and then we texted all night which made it even worse.” Bekah admitted.

“I’m not against sexting Beks.” He flinches ready for her reaction and she just eyes him. “And you’ve been watching hockey?” Jon laughs.

“The man took me to a sports bar and the game was on. I have watched some highlights to see your dumb face.” Bekah buries her face in Jon’s chest.

“That’s adorable.” Jon whispers.

“It is not. We are what? Friends with benefits? Me watching Blackhawk highlights to catch a glimpse of you is ridiculous.”

“Friends with benefits? Hmmm... I definitely consider you a friend now and this is definitely a benefit... but I don’t know if I’d call this that.” Jon’s hand grazes her back and Bekah arches into him.

“What would YOU call this? Fuck buddies?” Bekah sits up and Jon busts out laughing.

“No... I don’t know what to call it okay but I like this. All of it. The texting, the sex, the convo...” Jon goes to stand up.

“Are you leaving?” Bekah stares at his perfect body as he crosses the room and pulls the sheets up her own in a moment of insecurity.

“I’m staying tonight. Did you see the bag? I was thinking a shower sounded nice.” He keeps walking. “Aren’t you coming?” Bekah leaps out of the bed and follows him into the bathroom.

Jon kisses her hard then sneak out for morning skate while Bekah heads down to the lobby to meet up with the ladies.

“I just heard the group over there buzz that Jonathan Toews just left this hotel.” Brynn leans into Bekah.

“Oh really?” Bekah wills her face to not flood red.

“Any reason that man would be leaving super early from a hotel in the city he lives in, especially when he was in Philadelphia yesterday for a game?” Brynn stares at her now bright red best friend’s face. “Yeah, your face tells me all I need to know. I know you don’t want to talk about it now but we WILL be talking about your little secret Beks.” The use of Jon’s nickname rolls off Brynn’s tongue.

“Did you just call me?” Bekah’s mouth hangs open.

“Oh I heard him call out to you at the game. I’m not sure why you have been hiding this from me?” Bekah pulls Brynn away from the group.

“Because how do you tell your best friend that you spent two nights with a man you hardly know and have been texting since?”

“Wait, 2 nights? I’d clap for you if we weren’t in public.”

“Rin. Seriously. I don’t know what this is with him.”

“It’s good clearly because it looks like you didn’t sleep a wink.” Brynn’s sly smile makes Bekah’s face flame again.

“Well are you seeing him tonight? They have the night off.”

“Yes, dinner at his place.”

“Find your answers then friend. If ya want them.”

Jon picked Bekah up around 4 after a day of shopping in all the go to places in Chicago. His car starts heading in the direction of his place.

“You live in Lincoln Park? Isn’t that a drive to work?” Bekah takes in the surroundings and direction they were heading.

“Yeah...wait, how do you know the neighbors so well? Most tourists know know the Mile and such.” Jon’s eyes drift to Bekah.

“Didn’t look at my diploma on my wall huh?” She clicks her tongue.

“Noooo....” Jon tries to recall if he noticed a diploma on the wall.

“DePaul. I went to DePaul for school.” Bekah giggles flicking her finger towards the direction of campus and Jon slams on his breaks at the light.

“Wait. What the hell? Seriously. So that means...when did you graduate?” Jon’s eyebrows are knit together processing.

“09.” Bekah answers with a smirk forming.

“So that’s two seasons we were in the same damn city! Fuck.” Jon’s jaws flex at the realization.

“First of all, I had my nose in a book for four years which is why I have only one real friend from college. Two, unless you were riding the L way too late avoiding your junior year roommate’s sexcapades, I didn’t get out much. Three, you wouldn’t have even noticed me if we did meet. Remember...average.” Bekah pulls her legs up onto her seat and wraps her arms around them.

“Beks, I would have fucking noticed you and now I feel like an idiot when we first talked how this girl knew so much about Chicago.” Jon takes another glance at Bekah before turning. “Townhouse is this way.” He points and Bekah’s mouth drops open.

“This is not a fucking townhouse Toews. It’s a damn mansion in Lincoln Park!”

“I just bought it so the decorations aren’t really me. Let’s just head in.” Jon ignores her shocked face and rounds the car to hold out his hand for Bekah.

“And I’m pretty sure five maybe more of my apartments could fit in it!” Bekah’s assessment was accurate of the place Jon called home in Chicago. After a small tour the two headed up to the rooftop where Jon prepared dinner.

“Could you come back here after playoffs?” Jon shoves food in his mouth and looks over at Bekah.

“You are making the playoffs?” She winks at him.

“Well, it looks to be that way. We can hang out before I head home. Plus, I’m gonna need to um...release some tension post playoffs. Damnit, that sounds worse coming out than it sounded in my head.” Jon pinches the bridge of his nose.

Bekah chokes on the wine she was sipping on. “Shit what? Like the whole athletes don’t have sex during playoffs is really a thing?”

“Well they either have a ton of sex or release or none...I tend to fall in the none category.”

“And this works?” Bekah clears her throat and takes another sip.

“Well, I’ve been to the playoffs every year I have been in the league but the first and have two cups.”

“You have TWO Stanley Cups?” Bekah’s hands hit the table and Jon laughs loudly.

“Yes Beks. And please don’t look it up. My beard is unattractive.” Bekah makes a mental note to ask Brynn. “Let’s head to bed. I’ve got a game tomorrow.”

The game was great for the Jackets and not so much for Jon and his team. He did score and it took everything in Bekah’s being to not stand and cheer when he did. Brynn eyed Bekah when it happened. Her knowing Bekah’s secret was a good and bad thing.

Jon: meet me in front of the locker room please. I know you are coming down here.

Bekah: you sure?

Jon: I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure.

Bekah smiles.

Jon: I mean you are the one keeping this a secret.

Bekah: Rin knows.

Jon: yeah?

Bekah: I’ll see you in a minute.

Bekah followed the rest of the Ladies to the United Center locker room area. “He’s that way.” Brynn points to the home locker room where Jon stood freshly showered and in a suit. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning...ish.” She laughs and gives Bekah’s ass a little love tap as she starts walking.

“Nice sweater.” He pulls on the strings of Bekah’s new thirds jersey the Lady Jackets bought each girl. “It doesn’t have another man’s name on it, does it?” Jon almost growls and Bekah goes to show him the blank back while biting her lip. “You would look much better in a red Blackhawks one in my opinion.” Jon’s finger runs down her sleeve.

“Sorry you lost but I got to see you score!” Bekah lifts up to kiss him and then drops down to the ground realizing they were in his world. His lips press against her forehead before she even looks back up.

“Let’s get out of here Beks.” Jon puts his arm around her and leads her to the car. It was in that moment she became even more confused about what they were. He clearly didn’t care who know knew or saw their exchange but yet they weren’t dating. And they established that a relationship wasn’t a good idea back in January. Now the lines were very blurry and she wondered if it was timing or something else.

#tazer me 19 #what’s in a name fic #WIAN #jonathan toews fic #jonathan toews #love a damn blackhawk 🤦🏻‍♀️

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linskywords · 5 years ago

Text

Updated Hockey Writing Guide

Thanks to everyone who offered corrections on the original post! Most of this is unchanged, but there are a few tweaks and additions. There are probably still things I’ve gotten wrong, so feel free to let me know.

For context, this was originally a response to an ask from someone who was writing a hockey story on short notice and didn’t have time to watch or read widely. Watching games and reading about players (or just reading fic about them) are still the best ways to learn things, especially since this doesn’t touch on the details of particular teams. But hopefully it will be helpful to some of you!

The schedule:

The hockey season starts in early October. It goes until early April. Training camp is mid-September, and then there are a few weeks of preseason games before the season starts, where everyone doesn’t play every game; the teams are trying to get a look at prospects and see how players gel, and longtime vets may not play. Prospect camp or development camp is July-ish, but you don’t go to that if you’re a returning player.

Players don’t really get a break during the year except for the All-Star or Olympic breaks, if they happen. In the last year or two (I think?) each team has started getting one bye week of five days off per year. This year it looks like they’re all overlapping with the All-Star break, which sucks for the players chosen for that game. Other than that they might get a day off at a time but not usually much more than that – maybe a few days at Christmas, depending on the game schedule.

There’s a game roughly every other day, but it’s not quite as regular as that. I usually write with the Wikipedia or hockey-reference.com page open for that team’s season. I tend to assume the team has practice or some kind of skate pretty much every day, which may or may not be accurate for any given team. There’s also media stuff and team events, so true days off are rare.

Players take naps in the afternoon before a game. It’s an important sports performance thing.

Half the games will be at home and half will be on the road. Some teams tend to fly home late at night after their last game on a road trip, and others choose to fly back the next day.

Sometimes road trips are pretty long, like if they’re going to play a bunch of teams far away. Some teams have an annual long road trip when some other group is using their home arena (e.g. the Blackhawks used to have an annual circus trip in November). They fly on private flights and will take a bus to and from the hotel and the rink.

Playoffs start a few days after the regular season wraps up. 16 teams qualify, based on their number of wins (2 points per win, 1 point per overtime loss, 0 points per loss in regulation). Non-qualifying teams are usually mathematically eliminated in late March or early April, depending on how badly they’ve done that year. There are four rounds of playoffs: two rounds within their conference, then conference finals, then Stanley Cup finals. Each round is the best of seven games and stops after one team has won four.

Teams play other teams in their division most often, then teams within the other division in their conference, then teams in the other conference. Divisions and conferences are organized geographically, so this makes sense for ease of travel.

In the off-season, players rest up, train, see the people they don’t get to during the year, and play a lot of golf (they’re jocks, but they’re prohibited from playing dangerous sports by the terms of their contracts, so golf is one of their few refuges). Sometimes they’ll try to bulk up because it’s hard to keep weight on during the season. They usually take at least something of a break from training right when the season ends, and they won’t start skating again until partway through the summer. A lot of them go to special training camps or work with professional trainers.

Worlds happens during the Stanley Cup playoffs, so players who aren’t in the playoffs, or who get knocked out early, will go represent their countries. Junior Worlds is around Christmastime. There’s sometimes a World Cup of Hockey, which is in theory every four years but has been irregular. It happened in 2016, but the 2020 tournament was cancelled. When it does happen, it’s in September, just prior to the start of the season.

The game:

If a player earns a point, that means they’ve gotten a goal or an assist. An assist is when they passed to someone who scored (a primary assist) or passed to someone who passed to someone who scored (a secondary assist). Goals are better than assists but both are good, and both are worth a point in terms of player stats.

A point per game average is very good. If a player’s at a point per game, he’ll be very happy. Your top players probably do a little better than that. Of course, this is an average; it’s very rare to score in every game, and players have point streaks and also stretches where they’re held scoreless. There’s a LOT of randomness in hockey.

Shots on goal is another good stat: how many times did a player have a scoring opportunity where the goalie denied him?

You get three forwards, two D-men (defensemen), and one goalie on the ice at a given time. The forwards are organized into four lines of three: one winger on each side and a forward. The D-men are organized into three D-pairings. Defensemen will usually play for more minutes per game than forwards because of this. Your top line (of forwards) will play close to or just over 20 minutes per game. Your bottom line might play more like 10. The top D-pairing might be more like 25 minutes or even higher.

Play starts with a faceoff, where one forward, usually the center, faces off against a forward from the opposing team. The ref drops the puck, and the two players in the faceoff both try to knock it back toward their own players. The one who succeeds wins the faceoff. Sometimes a player will move toward the puck before it’s legal to do so, and the ref will throw them out of the playoff circle and one of the other forwards will have to take the faceoff.

There are a bunch of penalties you can get for stuff like illegal checks, high sticking, holding, tripping, hooking, delay of game (e.g. if the ref thinks you deliberately knocked the puck out of play). If you commit a penalty, you go into the penalty box and your team is on the penalty kill for two minutes, meaning they’re down a player. The other team is on the power play. If the team on the power play scores, the power play is over and the offending player is released from the penalty box early. If the team on the penalty kill scores, it’s called a shorthanded goal, and the power play continues. How often a team scores on the power play is a stat people talk about – sometimes teams have stretches where their power play is terrible, and they never manage to convert (score).

The two-minute penalties mentioned above are called minor penalties. You can get a five-minute major for fighting, or you can get thrown out of the game or suspended for multiple games for really bad stuff.

There are three main parts of a hockey rink (there are probably technically more, but eh): each team’s offensive zone, where the opposing goal is located, and the neutral zone between them. You can’t take the puck into the offensive zone if there’s another player from your team already there; if you do, it’s offsides, and there’s a stoppage of play and a faceoff in the neutral zone. That means you can’t pass to someone deep in the offensive zone. Because of that, sometimes when players enter they dump the puck, meaning they shoot it deep into the offensive zone even though there’s no one there to receive it. They might do this if they need to buy a little bit of time for a shift change.

They might also try to buy time for a shift change by shooting the puck deep into the offensive zone from behind the center line, but it will not work, because this is called icing, and results in a stoppage of play. The team responsible is NOT allowed to have a shift change, and there’s a faceoff in their own defensive zone. You can get some really long shifts from this. (The exception is when you’re on the penalty kill, when you are allowed to ice the puck.)

Shifts are usually about a minute long. When players aren’t playing, they’re on the bench. When it’s their turn to play, they go over the boards.

If a player gets the puck and has no members of the opposing team between him and the goal, it’s called a breakaway.

If two players have the puck and are facing one member of the opposition, it’s called a two-on-one.

There are three twenty-minute periods divided by two fifteen-minute intermissions. If at the end of the game, play is tied, they go directly to one five-minute overtime period, which for the past few years has been three-on-three (three players plus a goalie, usually two forwards and a D-man) and is very exciting. If no one scores in overtime they go to a shootout, where the players take turns shooting on the opposing goalies. Overtime rules are different in playoffs, where I believe they keep playing regular twenty-minute periods until someone scores.

If one team is down by a lot at the end of the third period, they’ll often pull the goalie so they can have another forward on the ice without going over their six-player limit. If the other team scores while there’s no goalie, it’s called an empty-netter.

Players wear a ton of pads but still get a lot of bruising. Which can be fun for writers. 😆

The team and the players:

There are up to twenty-three players on a team at a time. Twenty can dress for a given game, which includes the goalie and the backup goalie.

There’s usually a captain and two or three assistant captains (A’s). They have general leadership responsibilities among the players. The captain wears a C on his jersey and the A’s wear an A.

If a player gets injured, he might be put on IR and someone would get called up in his place from the minors (the AHL, or American Hockey League). There’s been a particular focus on concussions in recent years, since a lot of players have had major problems with them. There’s a concussion protocol players have to go through if one is suspected. Players still, unfortunately, lie about their symptoms to try to play through concussions sometimes.

The NHL has a CBA (collective bargaining agreement) with the NHLPA (the NHL Players Association) that determines a lot of player treatment, salary, etc. When a given CBA runs out and the NHL and players can’t agree on terms, you get a lockout, like the 2004-2005 lockout that lasted the whole season and the 2012-13 lockout that shortened it.

There’s a cap to how much salary a team can pay out to its players in a year. This can get very complicated so I’m not even going to try.

When players are first signed, they go on a three-year ELC (entry-level contract) which is capped at I want to say $895K per year, but I don’t think that includes bonuses. Again, this is complicated stuff and I’m not even going to attempt the details. Players on ELCs aren’t guaranteed their own hotel rooms, so you get road roommates. Good times for us fic writers! After their ELC runs out, they’ll negotiate a more lucrative contract with their team; there are also some limited ways in which they can choose to go to a different team. Later in their career they’ll become free agents and can choose which team to sign with.

Players get drafted at 18 or so, or older in rare circumstances. Draft picks are determined by a lottery that’s weighted by how badly your team did this year. Again, you can look up the math on this – it’s a limited number of teams that have a shot at a first overall pick. The draft happens in a bunch of rounds where each team gets a pick, but sometimes teams trade their picks in advance as part of complicated trade deals. The first round of the draft is televised and the players go up onstage and shake their new GM’s hand and get a jersey.

Players often come up through Major Juniors, which is the CHL (Canadian Hockey League, though a lot of the teams are in the U.S.). The CHL has different divisions: the OHL, the WHL, and the QMJHL. Players get paid and are considered professional, so they become ineligible for top-tier college hockey in the U.S. There are scholarships offered to CHL players at Canadian universities; I don’t know the details of that. While they’re playing Juniors they often live far away from their families with billet (host) families. Junior teams are limited in how many players they can have who are over 18.

Other places players might come from: American colleges; private prep schools or even public school systems; the U.S. NTDP (National Team Development Program); or many places overseas.

Most draftees don’t start playing for their NHL team right away, if they ever do. They might stay in Juniors for a year or two, or play for the A (the AHL) once they’re old enough, or go to college first.

NHL players in their rookie year often billet with an older player or sometimes even front office staff. Partly this is because they don’t want to invest in long-term housing until they get their housing letter, which is the team saying that they plan to keep them around. Partly it’s because they’re only technically not children anymore.

Players will each have an agent who negotiates contracts and does other stuff for them.

The teams each have a head coach and a bunch of other coaches, a lot of them specialized. I don’t have a lot of detail about this. There’s also a front-office staff, headed by a General Manager, who reports to the owner(s). The GM makes staffing decisions as well as draft and trade decisions.

Teams usually have an official arena where they play home games and their front office has their actual offices, and they’ll also have a practice facility which may be theirs or may be something local that they rent.

There are a bunch of awards players can get: the Art Ross for the most points in a season; the Hart for MVP; the Conn-Smythe for MVP of the playoffs; the Calder for best rookie. (There are a bunch more that you can look up.) These are given out at the NHL Awards in June. And of course what everyone wants to win is the Stanley Cup. If your team wins, you get a specially designed cup ring with your name and number on it (possibly everyone in the front office does, too??), and you get to spend a day with the Cup during that off-season. Players usually throw a big party for all their family and friends.

Players get nicknames and this is super fun! If you’re writing about existing players, they probably have nicknames already, but you can also make up hockey nicknames (like if you’re writing about obscure players, or making the players up) by taking the whole or partial last name and added -y (or -ie) or -er. Sometimes just -s. Sometimes it’s the first name. And sometimes they get more creative, like Soupy for someone with the last name Campbell. There is much potential here.

Other general stuff:

These boys are kind of dumb in general and specifically about emotions. It’s one of my favorite things about writing them, honestly. It also means you can go as bro-y as you want with the language.

The NHL is pretty deeply homophobic. Its official position is not homophobic, and there’s an organization called You Can Play that’s fighting to eradicate homophobia, but there are no out players, which speaks for itself. It’s pretty much like all major male American sports in that way. The homophobia is something I really enjoy exploring in some of my stories and in other stories just elide entirely if I feel like imagining a better world. You definitely have flexibility there.

Watching is definitely helpful but also I didn’t watch a hockey game until at least two stories in, soooo you can get away with a lot by just reading fic. :)

Reading fic is especially helpful because honestly the stuff I’ve laid out here doesn’t even touch on the details of a particular player’s life or a team’s traditions and history and dynamics. You can Google some of that, but the prior research done by other fans is going to be so helpful.

On the plus side, if you don’t know much about how something works, you don’t have to go into a lot of detail about it. I’ve written some stories where I’ve gone into a bunch of game details and others where you wouldn’t even know they played hockey if it weren’t for their spending a lot of time changing next to other men. Feel free to stick to the parts you know.

Another thing you’ll get from fic, which I’m not even going to go into here, is the plethora of tropes that are popular in hockey fandom. Or fandom in general, of course – you can always import new tropes, or make them up from whole cloth. AO3 is your oyster.

Again, please let me know if there’s anything I should correct, and feel free to make additions of your own. Happy hockeying, everyone!

#hockey #hockey rpf #hockey primer #p.s. you probably shouldn't use hockey as a verb #i am a bad example

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birlcholtz · 5 years ago

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5, fluff, any scenario/pairing! :)

5. “You made your choice.” from this prompt list!

have some zimbits fluff for the soul, but first you have to read about bitty and the zimmerclan’s baking shenanigans, that’s the rule. ao3

After three years of routinely visiting Bob and Alicia, Bitty no longer feels the need to hold himself back in baking competitions.

Well, he never really did, anyway, for a few reasons. The first one is that the first time, he and Alicia had teamed up against Jack and Bob, and she had looked him directly in the eye and said “let’s fuck them up” immediately before dumping a full cup of salt into their sugar. The second is that the Zimmermanns, however much they might usually bake when he’s not around, seem legitimately fascinated when he talks about the techniques he’s using or what he’s making and why.

And Bitty is a huge fan of positive attention, so, that was kind of that?

Besides, once Alicia had done the whole salt-and-sugar thing, all hell had broken loose, and Bitty had to try and figure out what to do now that his icing sugar had baking powder in it. It’s definitely a different skill set from baking at home, where he’s pretty much free to concentrate, or in the Haus, where he just has to fend off the occasional invasions to try and steal unbaked cookie dough.

But this year is different. Jack’s read aloud enough snippets from his group chat with his parents that Bitty knows someone (Bob) has been watching a lot of competition baking shows.

That kind of explains… everything that’s going on here.

“It’ll be a tournament,” Bob had explained, mug of coffee in hand, when Bitty had found him busily moving kitchen furniture that morning (one-handed, by himself, good Lord). “Jack versus Alicia, you against me, then the winners duel each other.”

“Duel?”

“Bake the best cookies ever. Same thing.”

“Best cookies ever, keeping in mind the fact that they’re going to be sabotaged in unholy ways,” Bitty had corrected.

So now here they are. The kitchen is big, but there are simply only two ovens, and that means that they can only have one ‘duel’ happening at once. But the fact that Jack and Alicia are competing against each other hasn’t stopped either of them from trying to get Bitty and Bob to take sides and help out.

“I’m literally just asking one of you to dump in a few more tablespoons of vanilla extract,” Alicia calls from where she’s furiously stirring batter. From the smell, Bitty is guessing gingersnaps, but he’s going to reserve judgment until he actually eats one.

“I’m not making it disgusting if I have to try it after,” Bob replies, mirroring Bitty’s thoughts.

“Then make Eric try those ones.” She looks up from her bowl and grins at Bitty, and he’s struck by the rock-hard determination in her eyes. In moments like this, he sees the resemblance between her and Jack even more clearly. “No offense.”

While she’s looking up, Jack whips around the island and pours a cup of something into her mixing bowl. “Maman, you would need ridiculous amounts of vanilla extract to make a difference.”

But Alicia is distracted. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann, did you just put rice in my cookie batter?”

He shrugs at her, and laughs, and goes back to his own batter, but Alicia’s got her scheming face on.

So when Alicia’s gingersnaps come with bonus rice and garlic salt and Jack’s peanut butter cookies kind of turn into one big slab of vanilla-y melted peanut butter, it is absolutely no surprise.

The moment Bob had said he would face off against Bitty in the first round, Bitty had had an idea.

See, one of Bob’s main tactics is stealing ingredients from the other person. That way, ideally, they don’t have enough to make their cookies, and he can be sure the ingredients weren’t tampered with.

Well, today is the last day he’s going to try that.

The ingredients for all of them are already measured out into their own containers, labeled for convenience. Bitty had simply waited for Bob to go looking for his phone to record the chaos and swapped the labels on his own containers.

He’s also making flourless cookies, but he’s planning to make a big enough deal out of checking his flour for sabotage that Bob will go right for it. There’s a lot of cream of tartar in there. Also baking powder. And he might try to get in some garlic powder too, because that was frankly inspiring.

Also, Jack putting in garlic salt meant that Bitty and Bob had to eat gingersnaps with garlic salt. So it’s just fair.

All of these preparations mean that Bitty has had to stay in the kitchen the whole time, just so he can be one hundred percent sure that Bob can’t make the same preparations.

The Zimmermanns get a lot of entertainment from friendly competition where the goal is more to make a fool of your family than it is to actually win, but at the same time, they are ruthless when it comes to making sure everyone else loses. (This, Bitty is pretty sure, is the source of Jack’s devastating Settlers of Catan strategies.) So Bitty has also selected a recipe with only four ingredients, the fewer to fuck up.

He’s going to have to keep a sharp eye over them while they rest before he puts them in the oven, but if they spread, he can always just cut them up and call them cookie bars.

Well. As long as they’re actually solid. Jack’s cookie attempt made that clear.

Bitty is feeling pretty prepared, and he makes a big show of checking his flour container before they start, but unfortunately, it’s all for naught, because he’s in the middle of mixing together the cocoa powder and powdered sugar when he hears quick footsteps, turns to defend himself from what’s probably going to be an onslaught of garlic and/or rice, and gets a face full of flour.

“Damn it,” Bob says calmly, and then he promptly grabs Bitty’s tampered flour container, opens it, and pours it into Bitty’s mixing bowl.

Bitty can hear Jack and Alicia trying not to laugh too loudly, but he just flicks some flour in Bob’s face and picks up his own mixing bowl, manages some spinorama in his socks on the hardwood floor, and pours all of that into Bob’s bowl of wet ingredients.

“I’m resourceful,” he tells Bob, who looks like he’s torn between doubling over laughing and being completely appalled, and scoots past him to get back to his own station.

In the end, they’re even less successful than Jack and Alicia. Bob dumps Bitty’s leftover egg yolks into his batter, along with what must be half a cup of Bob’s own melted butter, and that means Bitty is both out of eggs and his cookies are definitely not going to turn into… real cookies, so he sticks whatever the hell that batter is in the oven and devotes the rest of his time to blocking Bob whenever he tries to get an ingredient. They both wind up with what is basically chocolate chips coated in an uneven mixture of wet and dry ingredients, then melted and/or toasted for good measure.

They universally agree Jack and Alicia don’t have to try to eat those, since nobody knows for sure if the eggs actually got cooked. But that kind of puts an end to the whole competition thing, and once they’re done collectively cleaning the kitchen, Alicia has to take a call from her agent and Bob volunteers to go on a grocery run since now they’re pretty much out of any and all baking ingredients.

Jack flops down on the sectional in the living room, and Bitty joins him, both of them in clean clothes. The sectional is big enough for at least three full-sized hockey players to stretch out comfortably (which makes sense considering Jack and Bob, and Alicia’s plenty tall too), but honestly, what’s the point of stretching out? What he actually wants to do is lay his head on Jack’s chest and enjoy the fact that nobody is going to dump flour on him for at least two days. Probably.

So that’s what he does, with a great view of the skylight in the ceiling, and Jack wraps an arm around him and then asks, “Do I still smell like vanilla? I swear Maman started aiming for my hair after the first couple of tries.”

“She said it was a direct response to the garlic salt,” Bitty reminds him. “You made your choice.”

He feels Jack’s laugh rumbling in his chest, and he says, “I did. It cost me a lot of shampoo. Worth it.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that because you didn’t have to eat them. Lord.” And then Bitty starts laughing too. “Alicia’s face when you poured the rice in was incredible.”

“Good."

They drift into a comfortable silence, until Jack says, "I’m really glad you like my parents.”

“I’m really glad your parents like me,” Bitty responds.

“That too. But my parents liked you before we were even really friends at all. I was never worried about that. You liking them means… It makes everything simpler.” Jack’s fingers tap out some sort of rhythm on Bitty’s chest and he wonders what song Jack has stuck in his head. “I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”

“You and me both. At least it didn’t come to that.” As Bitty says it, he’s thinking of his own parents— Jack’s incomprehensible friendship with Coach (well, incomprehensible in the sense that Bitty doesn’t speak golf, he understands perfectly well why they get along), his mom’s immediate adoration of Jack, or, as she put it to Bitty later, 'polite and sensible and looks at you like you hung the moon, Dicky’. He’d worried about Jack liking his parents right up until he had gotten them in a room together and realized he probably couldn’t have found a better match. “So we don’t have to worry.”

“No, we don’t,” Jack agrees, and brushes Bitty’s hair back off of his face, and Bitty thinks he could spend the rest of his life here.

#my stuff #zimbits #fic #omgcp #quarantime

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mistryethan · 4 years ago

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Hey hi I’m Sarah, this is Ethan, he’s Trying His Best

35 cis male, Bev Rep, native enough to Tupelo that he’s not “the new guy”, single, no kids

Canadian dad, mom is from Tupelo and her family still lives in town. His aunts are like, the Reigning Lesbians and they’re involved with All The Gay Stuff so if your character is at all involved in the LGBT community they’ve probably met

He’s bi himself but he’s not super out about it cause he likes his privacy

Grew up playing hockey, went pro when he got drafted out of college

He’d hoped to spend at least a decade in the NHL, but 2 years in a trucker ran a red light into the side of his car, ending his career and also his left leg at the knee.

It’s been a while since it all happened, he’s mostly learned to live with it but some days are worse than others.

Got super into wine when he was 19 because he was trying to impress a girl, which did not work even a little bit. Wound up going back to it when he retired, and works for a statewide bev rep. If your character works at a bar or restaurant, or anywhere that would host wine tasting events, they probably know him.

Kinda sarcastic/sardonic/occasionally a bit rude when he doesn’t remember to not be a dick, but he does mean well. Deals with all interpersonal problems with Very Clear Communication which he think should work but obviously people are nuanced so it doesn’t. Will tell you if he thinks you’re in the wrong unless you do it first.

But then he’ll still drive to your house at 2 in the morning if you need a sink fixed or got dumped or something. Even if you’re fighting, as long as you didn’t maliciously hurt anyone he cares about.

Literally wears nothing but jeans and hockey or alcohol branded shirts. He has like 5 dress shirts for events but otherwise he’s in a shirsey or he’s got the fireball logo stamped across his back. His mother hates it.

Wanted Connections!

Ex - I would really prefer some kind of unhealthy/combative dynamic here honestly, maybe they tended to fight so they broke up because they were arguing all the time but there’s still a lot of ~feelings~ there or the breakup took a couple tries to actually stick? I’m open to suggestions.

Drinking buddies - he doesn’t cook for himself much (like he can but all he can make is grilled chicken and veggies) so he’s a regular at a lot of bars and restaurants in town, most employees and regulars would know him at least by sight. He likes to buy a round for whoever he’s talking to because drinking alone is just sad.

Neighbor but like literally - He bought a condo because the idea of lawn care makes him want to kill something, so I’d love to see him have get along really well with his neighbors in the building to the point that they petsit for each other and have block parties and shit

@tupeloextras

#tupelointro

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spine-buster · 5 years ago

Text

Alone, Together | Chapter 26 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: Just wanted to thank you guys for being understanding about the once-a-week posting schedule. Also, as always, your canon questions are really fun to answer, as are your comments about the chapters! Feel free to keep them coming.

Hope you enjoy this chapter because the next two focus on the playoff series with the Bruins and we all know how that went L O L (I’m still not over it).

When Bee walked into the Scotiabank Arena Monday night, ready for the Leafs to face the Florida Panthers, she already had Aryne and Alannah waiting for her impatiently. Bee hadn’t gone to the game against New York on Saturday because she was…tired. From work. At least that’s what she told them.

She knew that Fred and Tyler wouldn’t say a word to anyone about the fight. She trusted them. On Saturday, when the Leafs faced New York on Hockey Night in Canada, Bee just wasn’t up for going to the arena. She was still emotionally drained from the night before, and even though she and Morgan had a long talk that morning, resolving a lot of things, she didn’t want to be around people. She didn’t want to be around hockey. He respected that. The Leafs ended up losing in overtime, but when Morgan came home, he wasn’t in a bad mood. Instead, he took off his suit, threw on his pajamas, and held Bee in his arms for the whole night. He kept telling her how much he loved her; she kept telling him the same. He kept kissing her tenderly and apologizing; she kept saying there was nothing to apologize about anymore. He kept telling her how he wished he could give her the world, the moon and the stars – anything her heart desired and that she wanted in life; she kept saying she’d throw it all away – every bag, every shoe, every book, every moon and star in the universe – because all she wanted was him.

He asked if she would move in before the playoffs; she nodded her head and said yes. Morgan could have cried.

“We missed you on Saturday night,” Alannah said as she and Aryne hugged Bee. “Was everything okay? You haven’t missed a Saturday night game in a while.”

Bee shrugged her shoulders. “It was…um…”

“We know it wasn’t work,” Aryne put air quotes around the word, giving Bee a look. “Did you and Morgan have a fight?”

Bee bit her lip. “We did, but it was resolved before the game. I was just…I don’t know…emotionally drained, I guess.”

“What was it about?” Aryne asked.

Bee shook her head. She loved Aryne, Aryne was one of her best friends, but she didn’t want to get into it. She didn’t want to air her dirty laundry with her boyfriend to the wife of a member of his hockey team, regardless of how close they were. “The fact of the matter is that we talked about it and solved it. And, um, I’m moving in.”

Both Alannah’s and Aryne’s jaws dropped. “Um, please hold,” Aryne raised her hand dramatically. “You’re moving into Morgan’s place?! When?!”

“Before the playoffs,” Bee revealed. “He’s wanted me to move in for a bit now, and, well, I finally agreed on Saturday night.”

“Bee, this is huge,” Alannah commented with a giant smile on her face. “I mean, especially if he’s wanted you to move in for a while. What was stopping you?”

My own fear? She couldn’t say that out loud, at least not to them, so she settled for another shrug of her shoulders. “I guess I just wanted to get a job first before making such a big life decision,” she said. “I mean, it’s still technically not even a year since we met. We’re just reaching our six-month anniversary. No relationship I’ve ever had has ever gone this…fast.”

“Yeah, but you and Morgan, like…love each other,” Aryne said. “Like, I don’t think I’ve ever met a couple as on the same page as you guys. Morgan looks at you like you put the stars in the night sky, and you look at Morgan with this glimmer in your eyes and the softest smile on your face…and it honestly makes me sick,” she joked, garnering a laugh from both girls. “But I’m serious. You guys just sort of have this way about you, as if you’ve been together forever. You guys get each other. That’s the most that anybody can ask for in a relationship.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile. “And that’s why it feels right,” she said. If Aryne could see it – if the outside world could see it – then it must mean something, right? “It might be…you know, quick for some people, but it feels right to us. It feels like the natural progression of our relationship.”

“Well, I’m so happy for you,” Alannah said. “You’re over his place so much as it is. Why delay the inevitable?”

“That was his reasoning.”

“Aryne!” a voice called suddenly, interrupting their conversation.

Aryne spun around to see who called, and when she recognized the two people waving, she squealed and outstretched her arms to hug them. Alannah was smiling as well but Bee had no idea who they were. Soon, Aryne turned back towards the girls with a giant smile on her face. “Alannah, you guys have met, but Bee – these are my in-laws! Barb, Joe, this is my friend Briony McTavish!”

Bee’s face immediately lit up when she learned who they were. “Mr. and Mrs. Tavares! It’s so nice to meet you!” she shook their hands.

“Aryne has told us so much about you!” Barbara smiled. “Are you excited for the game tonight?”

“Very,” Bee smiled. “Gosh, you guys must be so excited to become grandparents!”

“Our first grandbaby!” Joe smiled, looking down at Aryne’s bump lovingly. “Barbara can’t wait to be a babcha. She’s already got a makeshift nursery set up. Even took out some of John’s old clothes to see if they can be given some new wear.”

“I think I’ve been shopping enough to cover that,” Aryne winked at Joe. “There’s also still the baby shower. Maybe just take out that classic Leafs toddler jacket you bought him for one of his baby photoshoots.”

“Oh my God, I’m going to completely melt if I see that,” Alannah quipped. “It’s like when Hank has his little Leafs onesie on. I totally become a pile of goo.”

“Briony, Aryne tells me this is your first season with the Maple Leafs,” Barbara said. “How have you taken to hockey so far? Do you like it?”

“I like it when we win,” Bee joked, getting a laugh from everyone around her. “To be honest, I’m still learning and getting used to it. Especially the line changes. Now I have to learn about the playoff format. It never ends!”

“It really doesn’t,” Barb shook her head. “John’s…what? 28 now? It’s been 25 years since we started hockey and I’m still learning things.”

“Just wait till the game starts, Barb. Bee knows all about the offside rule,” Aryne wiggled her eyebrows, garnering another round of laughs from the group. Aryne turned on her heels and waved at the group to follow her. “We should get to our seats before puck drop.”

Something must have been in the air at Scotiabank Arena that night, because by the end of the 1st period, it was already 4-2 for the Leafs. John had scored two goals, with Patrick and Jake scoring the other two. Aryne, Joe, and Barbara were going crazy, cheering him on and clapping, and the Sportsnet cameras shot to them to show their celebration. With the way they were sitting – Alannah at the end, then Bee, then Aryne, then John’s parents, Bee was definitely caught on camera. And she only realized this because Angie decided to send her the video, already uploaded onto Sportsnet’s Twitter account, of them all celebrating John’s two goals. Bee’s Rielly jersey definitely gave every viewer an indication of who she was there for.

“I have to go to the washroom,” Aryne mentioned as John’s parents were being interviewed by one of the Sportsnet personalities. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” Bee said as they both got up, letting Alannah know where they were going.

Bee began to walk up the stairs but Aryne walked down. When Aryne noticed Bee wasn’t beside her, she looked up. “I don’t want to walk up all those steps,” Aryne grimaced, putting a hand on her bump. “Let’s just go to the regular ones. I’m so tired.”

Bee could only acquiesce as she followed Aryne to the regular bathrooms, not the ones located in the friends and family section high above them on their special level. They waited patiently in the line, and although they kept a steady conversation, Bee noticed some long stares coming their way. She wondered if Aryne noticed them too. When a free stall came up, Aryne bolted inside, leaving Bee to wait for her, scrolling through her phone and reading all the updates she wasn’t able to read earlier in the day because of work. She checked her Instagram, as always, and saw a new barrage of notifications.

You have a new BFF in the Leafs squad every week. First Lucy now Aryne. Must be because they see how desperate you are and want nothing to do with you.

how do i become a wag like u can u help

Wearing Mo’s jersery so u can let everyone know ur with him. Ur a joke.

The desperation R E E K S off of you! You are never going to be as pretty as Cassie or Steph Lachance or any of those girls so quit while you’re ahead! AND GO TO THE GYM FFS!!!!!

I know you’re not trying to be like the other wags. That’s very noble of you, I guess. But do you really think this crusade of yours is going to last? There are only so many comments Morgan will be able to take about how fat you are before he finally sees it and dumps you. You’re only getting fatter and fatter and it’s embarrassing for you and for Morgan. Why would you put him through that? You will never be part of the inner wag circle because of the way you look. That’s just how it is. That and the fact that you are bleeding Mo dry of his money.

“I’m telling you, that’s Briony McTavish,” a louder than anticipated whisper broke Bee out of her thoughts. She looked up from her phone quickly to see three girls standing near the entrance, one with a phone in her hands directed right at her. The second they noticed that Bee was looking at them, the girl holding the phone lowered it dramatically and put it in her purse.

Bee sighed. “You guys can approach me, you know,” she called out to them. “I don’t bite.” The girls’ mouths gaped open, like they didn’t know she could speak. She smiled politely to try to get the girls to calm down. “I mean it girls, I don’t bite. Did you want to speak to me?”

The girls shuffled over, looks of fear mixed with worship and complete shock adorning their faces. Two blondes, one with straight hair and one with short curly hair, clearly couldn’t believe what was happening. Their brunette friend – the one who had the phone in her hand – was able to find her words first. “Sorry, we just think you’re really pretty,” she said. “It’s nice to see a wag who isn’t a skinny blonde.”

“Well, thanks,” Bee said, unsure if she should be grateful for the compliment. “You could have asked to like…take a picture of whatever. I wouldn’t have minded if you had asked. I would just appreciate it if you didn’t take creeper shots of me.”

“Sorry,” straight-blonde-hair-girl said. “It’s just…well, we know that Morgan uploaded that picture of you on his birthday, but you’ve just been all over the blogs online--”

“The blogs? All over? What do you mean?”

“You know…like, people are talking about you on the bunny blogs!” straight-blonde-hair-girl clarified, like it was the best thing in the world to get talked about online. “We know they’re bunny blogs and we should take everything they say with a grain of salt, but like, there was that whole thing where you were in Cassie’s New Years video that basically blew up all of Leafs Tumblr and the bunny blogs, and then the Vancouver pictures and then Morgan’s birthday pictures--”

“Seems like a lot of people are stealing a lot of my pictures,” Bee said sarcastically.

“It wasn’t us, we swear,” the brunette jumped in. “Everybody is just, like, wondering who you are. That’s all. There are like, the mean girls who start rumours about you, but nobody listens to them. I guess because you aren’t as open as Cassie people just want to know more.”

“Why aren’t you as open as Cassie? ” the one with the short curly blonde hair finally spoke.

Bee couldn’t believe she would ask such a question, but she also knew that these girls were going to write into those same bunny blogs the second this conversation was done with, so she had to watch what she was going to say. “Morgan and I are just private people. Especially Morgan. He’s super private and super protective. And we want to keep it that way.”

“Did Morgan help you get the job at Scotiabank?”

Bee’s body stiffened. “How…how do you guys know I work at Scotiabank?”

“Well, like, someone Googled your name I guess, and it was on some website,” the young blonde said. “It’s been all over the bunny blogs.”

A shiver ran up Bee’s spine. She couldn’t believe how much information was out there about her, that they managed to find and steal from her, yet these girls still wanted to know more. Should she just come out with her blood type? What her favourite movie was when she was five? Her DNA configuration? What more could they want from her? “No, he didn’t help me get the job. I have a Master’s in Financial Economics. I got the job all on my own.”

All three of the girls smiled on cue. “Told you so!” the brunette said to the straight-blonde-hair girl. She turned her attention back towards Bee. “Sorry, it’s just that there was this huge thing online about whether or not you quit school when you met Morgan or if you had just finished your program, and there was this whole thing that Sydney Esiason said in a comment on Insta but everyone thinks it’s about Cassie, and some girl claiming to be from your program was all like ‘We’re just done, Briony’s one of the top students in the course’ but someone else, also apparently from your program, was like ‘She quit the second she started going out with Mo because all she’s ever done is aspire to be a wag and all she used to talk about was bagging a Leafs player’ and it was all--”

“Please don’t believe everything you read on the Internet,” she interrupted. The girl hadn’t taken a breath since mentioning everything that was happening online – it seemed like she lived her entire life there. More shivers ran up Bee’s spine. To think someone in her program was engaged in this – that they even had the time to engage in this – was beyond her. “I’m just a girl trying to work and I happen to have a professional athlete boyfriend. That’s all I am. There’s nothing special about me besides my Master’s degree.”

“Morgan definitely thinks there’s something special about her, and I do too,” Aryne’s voice interrupted their conversation as she made her way out of her stall. She looked over at the girls as she washed her hands; again, their jaws dropped at the sight of John Tavares’s wife. “You can write to all those bunny blogs and tell them Morgan’s never gonna get with them, so they need to stop,” she said, her voice strict. “You can also tell everyone that the DMs Bee gets are hilarious and pathetic all at the same time, and we laugh at them over bottles of sauvignon franc at restaurants those girls could only dream of eating in.”

The girls’ eyes went wide. “It’s not us--”

“I know it’s not you. It’s all those Toronto party girls who like to cause shit and it’s the Instagram model girls who wouldn’t be able to get a contract with any legit agency if their life depended on it, but be the messenger,” Aryne winked, though her voice still strict and curt with them. “I don’t care what you say about me. Call me a bitch on every single bunny blog on the internet – I really don’t care. But anybody who goes after Bee is gong to have a problem with me.”

“Will do,” the brunette smiled, a feisty look in her eyes. “Are any of the younger Leafs single?”

Bee’s eyes went wide at the abrasiveness and audacity of the girl. Her friends slapped at her arm as she was in a staring contest with Aryne. “They’re not into jailbait. But I’m sure you’ll just go and befriend Cassie to see.” Aryne looked at Bee and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go. The period’s about to start and I want to actually watch the game.”

Aryne linked her arm with Bee’s, and when they were far enough away from the washroom, she looked at her. “Don’t ever think that you need to speak to those types of girls ever again,” she warned. “They’re not worth your time. Everything you just said is going to go on all those bunny blogs.”

“You don’t think it will clear stuff up?” Bee asked innocently.

“It never clears stuff up,” Aryne countered. “Rumours are still going to spread about you. Remember when we watched the Isles game at your place and I told you that you have your priorities in order?” she asked. Bee nodded her head. “You still do. But keeping them in order is harder than having them in the first place. And those girls…their only priority is either hooking up with a hockey player or making it seem like they’ve hooked up with one. And if they’re not trying to hook up, they want to make it seem like they’re inside their circle and friends with the wags. They don’t even have morals.”

Bee knew that she needed to listen to Aryne. She didn’t have a clue about any of this and she was so in over her head that she didn’t even know where to begin, what was right and what was wrong, what was appropriate and what was not. It was a mystery to navigate this minefield; every step she took, she felt like she was going to explode, or that she’d set off something that would get the sirens ringing and the armies rushing the battlefield. “Let’s go watch some hockey,” Bee announced, resolved to not giving it another thought. What was more important than what those girls told her was being spread online was that John was on the verge of a hat trick and Morgan was on the verge of approaching seventy points.

“Atta girl,” Aryne wiggled her eyebrows. “Now let’s go watch my hot husband dominate Florida.”

Dominate John did. Only six minutes into the second period, he completed his hat trick thanks to a rebound from a shot by Morgan. It rained hats in the arena as Bee, Alannah, Aryne, and John’s parents danced, cheered, high fived, and hugged each other in celebration, the cameras panning to them and showing them on the jumbotron for the fans to see. The assist by Morgan meant that he was on his 69th point, and Bee wanted so desperately for him to get 70.

Then the magic happened. Only four minutes into the third period, John scored a fourth goal. Aryne went nuts, as did John’s parents, and rightfully so – it was his first four goal game for the Leafs. Barbara even began to cry as the fans kept roaring their applause for their hometown boy. Like a cherry on top of a perfect ice cream sundae of a Monday night, Zach scored the seventh goal for the Leafs, with an assist from Morgan, gaining Zach the distinction of being a 20-goal scorer and getting Morgan to a 70-point season. Bee teared up as she hugged Alannah after the goal. She knew he was having a career season, but he blew his previous points total out of the water – by almost 20 points.

After the game, Bee waited for Morgan in the usual spot, eagerly anticipating his arrival. Media was taking longer than normal – she figured because of the night John had. She checked the usual Twitter accounts for Sportsnet and TSN to see what they were saying and uploading onto their feeds. She checked her Instagram to see more DMs, but only read Angie’s who sent her a compilation video Sportsnet had uploaded of the group celebrating all four goals. Then, for the first time in her life, she Googled ‘puckbunny blogs tumblr’ to see if what those girls were saying – and what Aryne told her – was actually true. Automatically, what seemed like hundreds of links popped up for her to click on, and she clicked the very first. Right at the top of the feed, she saw her name.

I met Bee McTavish (Morgan Rielly) at the Leafs game tonight in the washroom of all places lol. She’s a sweetheart. Super super nice. Doesn’t like that all her photos got posted everywhere bc she is trying to remain super private and says Morgan is super private too. She was in the washroom with Aryne (John Tavares wife) who was much ruder. Oh and she has a Master’s. Never quit her course when she met Morgan. It was all lies ☺ bye!

Aw thanks anon! Good to know! We all knew Morgan would go for someone just like that! It’s too bad a lot of people won’t respect their wishes.

Bee McTavish is bigger in person but pretty. Maybe it was the jersey. Saw her at the Leafs game tonight sitting with Aryne Tavares and John’s parents. Went crazy after Mo got his 70th point. I know Sportsnet showed her a bunch of times but she was on the jumbotron too after John’s fourth goal and it was really cute. Small applause bc the crowd recognized John’s parents and wife.

I guess Mo doesn’t mind her size anon. Thanks for the update! She must be really close with Aryne if she sat with her and John’s parents? Did she know them from before and that’s how she and Mo met?

Bee McTavish is lovely. Everybody needs to get off her dick. If you watch the videos from Sportsnet she’s so genuinely happy for Morgan and the team when they do well. Whenever I see her at games she’s one of like, the only wags – esp the young wags – who is always paying attention to the game instead of being on insta.

Thanks anon! Seems to go with what a lot of ppl are saying.

Those people saying Bee is nice are probably her friends she’s sent to say stuff about her. She’s honestly not that nice. A TOTAL social climber. Pretends to be all cute and innocent but she’s been on the Toronto party scene for a while and was stalking Leaf players before she got with Mo. Rumour has it she slid into Auston’s DMs (what Toronto girl hasn’t lbr) and even Willy Nylander’s before she landed Mo. Shows how much of an idiot she is bc Willy wasn’t even in Toronto till December!!!!!

Wow ok anon thank u!!!

Whoever sent in that last ask is so incredibly dumb lol yeah she’s a known Toronto party girl yet her whole instagram feed when she was public was books, her coursework from her Master’s, and food she’d cook??? Try doing ur research next time sweetie you sound so jealous! Ur probably trying to hook up with Mo even though he’s taken. Just makes u a slut. Not to mention a homewrecker.

I just post all my asks. Not necessarily what I believe.

Bee couldn’t help but snort as she swiped to delete the tab. There was no way she was going down that rabbit hole. She stuffed her phone back into her pocket and waited impatiently for Morgan. When he finally came out, with John, Zach, and Tyler in tow, she couldn’t help the giant smile that appeared on her face as he walked towards her.

“You ready to go?” he said, extending his hand towards hers.

She grasped onto it tightly. “Come here.”

When he was close, she stood on her toes so she could reach him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders before giving him a long, lingering kiss. “You wanna talk about it?” she whispered.

“Talk about what?”

She smiled slightly. “Mr. Seventy-point season.” A smile crept upon his lips as he closed his eyes and shook his head – his version of ‘I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.’ But Bee was going to make a big deal out of this. “I’m very proud of you,” she whispered quietly, so only he could hear. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

Morgan bent down to kiss her again. “That’s all that matters,” he whispered.

“What?”

“That you’re proud.”

“I’m always proud of you.”

“I know you are, but it’s especially important tonight.”

“Because you hit seventy points tonight?” she giggled.

“Stoooooppppp,” Morgan buried his head into the crook of her neck. “Stop saying it.”

“Stop saying what? That you hit seventy points this season?” she smirked, moving away slightly so she could look at him again

“Noooo no no no ,” he shook his head before bending down to kiss her again. “Is that the only way you’re gonna stop saying it?”

“Mhm,” she nodded her head.

“Am I gonna have to kiss you all night?”

“You tell me Mr. Rielly,” she pecked at his lips. “What do you mean ‘it’, anyway? Do you mean the fact that you got sev--”

He kissed her again, dragging her quickly towards the door. “I gotta get you home quick.”

***

“Okay, I can help carry all the garment bags down.”

“I’ll follow behind you with the box of handbags.”

“I’ve got the shoes.”

“Make sure all the books are taken. We may need to take two trips.”

“Naz, you can just sit there and look pretty.”

“HEY!” Naz yelled in protest to Morgan’s comment. John, Jake, Mason, and Tyler laughed at the scowl on Naz’s face as Ashley stuck her tongue out at the boys. “Are we forgetting these guns can b--”

“Do not brag about how much you can bench press right now or else I’m going to punch you in the throat,” Jake grimaced. “Can we just move all this stuff to Morgan’s? Because the quicker we do so the quicker we can eat Chinese food.”

“Yes please, because baby’s hungry,” Aryne rubbed her belly.

The boys grabbed their designated boxes of Bee’s things to bring down the moving elevator, and the girls grabbed the various garment bags and made their way down the main elevator’s to Lucy and Aryne’s waiting SUVs in the parking garage. Once they loaded everything in, Bee and Angie drove with Lucy to Morgan’s apartment, while Ashley hitched a ride with Aryne. The boys ended up taking a second trip up to the apartment to get the remainder of Bee’s things before packing everything into Naz’s SUV and driving to Morgan’s apartment. They were lucky that Bee didn’t have a lot of things, comparably – no furniture to move, no giant ottomans or kitchen tools and accessories to pack away – just her half-bookshelf, taken from her old apartment, with its modest stack of books she’d added to sparingly during her time at Naz and Ashley’s apartment.

When the boys arrived at Morgan’s apartment, the girls were already rearranging the closet to incorporate Bee’s clothing. They shoved all his game-day suits to one side while they hung her work clothes on the top bar and her more casual clothes that still deserved a hanger on the bottom bar. Angie called out to Morgan that it was time to invest in another shoe rack where his Jordan’s collection wouldn’t take it over. Aryne was busy ordering the Chinese food. Ashley rearranged the bathroom drawers so all of Bee’s products could fit. The boys kept Bee’s bookshelf right next to the entertainment centre – he’d be buying bigger bookshelves soon, anyway. They decided to set the table while the girls continued to work on the closet behind the closed bedroom door.

“Did you consent to whatever’s going on in there?” Tyler asked as they all heard a loud thump coming from his bedroom. “They could be painting your room purple for all you know. They could be installing a Habs mural. A giant picture of Randy from Trailer Park Boys on your ceiling.”

Morgan shrugged his shoulders. Jake rolled his eyes. “Even if he didn’t, what’s he gonna say? She could paint the walls neon green and he’d nod and smile and say he loved it,” Jake said.

“Let’s not act like girls don’t run the world,” John commented with a chuckle. “Our wives definitely run our lives.”

“You got that right,” Naz piped up. “The other day Ashley had a craving for anchovies. Anchovies. Guess who had to go out to go buy anchovies at midnight or else her brain was going to explode.”

“That’s why I remain a bachelor,” Tyler said. He turned dramatically towards Mason. “Unless you have a sister?”

“Only a brother, dude.”

“And I reiterate, that’s why I remain a bachelor.”

Morgan’s phone buzzed, indicating that the Chinese food had been delivered. “You girls have three minutes until the food is here!” he yelled as he shoved his phone into his pocket. “Can you be a dear and come help me with the bags?” he asked Jake, who nodded his head. “And can you guys go check on them? Make sure they’re actually not installing a picture of Randy on my ceiling or throwing out any of my clothes?”

When Morgan and Jake came through the door again with the Chinese food, everybody was out in the main area. Aryne was already sitting at the table while everyone else mingled about; Bee was grabbing something out of the fridge – probably a hot sauce – and Tyler and John were leaning up against the couch. Aryne saw them first and she began clapping when she saw the food. “It’s here!”

Everybody gathered around the table quickly. Bee helped herself to too much Cantonese chow mein. Everything was passed around – the chicken balls, the sweet and sour sauce, the chicken fried rice, the plain steamed rice, the spring rolls, the beef with broccoli, the kung pao shrimp and the Szechuan chicken. Everybody’s plate and glass was full of goodness. For a while everyone was even silent because they were stuffing food into their faces. It was Tyler who broke the silence. “Have you guys seen how well the Raptors are doing? Their post-season is gonna be amazing.”

Everybody nodded their heads. “Hopefully ours is gonna be equally as amazing,” Naz commented.

“You think we’ll be able to go to some games?” Aryne asked her husband.

“Aryne, are you aware of who your husband is?” Tyler asked, causing the table to laugh. “He’s John Tavares. He can walk into anywhere and get whatever he wants.”

“Raptors tickets are gonna be the hottest commodity in town if they do well,” Mason commented. “Good luck with that.”

“I’m sure Masai will hook up Kyle with something,” Naz said. “Besides, Bee’s gotta go to her first Raptor’s game.”

The mention of her name gave Bee an opportunity to look at everyone – really look at all the people surrounding her – and she felt a pang of gratitude hit her chest. There was excitement, of course, of moving in with Morgan – of knowing that, when their friends were gone, she wouldn’t have an apartment to go back to; that this was her apartment too now. There was thankfulness, of course, for everyone helping her to move her things, despite how little she had and how quickly it took them to do it – she barely needed to bribe them with a Chinese food dinner before they said yes to helping. But more than anything, gratitude. Gratitude for them surrounding her. Gratitude for their help and support.

Gratitude that they were her family.

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