#HOCKEY AU IS BACK

[tojisun]

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au)

part of the ‘if fwb’ spinoff // simon riley x f!reader

johnny’s been… doubting, you see, about the validity of simon’s dating life.

like, for example, if he really was dating anyone.

simon looks content in a way that he never was before—intense eyes turned down towards his phone, unapproachable aura less angry but more settled, like he’s warding off people not because of his dislike but more so because he’s not available anymore.

not like he ever made himself available before, but it’s fundamentally different this time around; self-imposed walls brought down to make room for unbridled fulfillment.

he looks like he’s won the damn cup.

and that’s what makes johnny twitch—someone out there was just as, if not more, valued as the championship cup to simon, but he’s never introduced anyone to them.

not a picture nor an update nor even a PSA that they need to commission another WAG jacket for his partner because simon is tight-lipped about whoever it was he’s seeing. it’s not like he’s even dancing around the fact, it’s just that whoever it was he’s dating was never free.

not for a game nor a night-out nor a party. in simon’s house.

this level of secrecy was just unheard of. even the other men in the league who have a tight leash on their private lives still have living proof of their partners unlike simon who leaves it at, “she’s busy,” like that covers anything.

which is why johnny would like to go on record and say: he is totally valid for choosing to crash at simon’s place without letting him know.

he remembers getting wasted with the others, then refusing to be driven home, only to take a cab to simon’s place. he must have been coherent enough to remember the code for simon’s house, and was shockingly coordinated enough to even punch it in, but his memories begin to splinter there.

next thing johnny knows, he’s waking up, feeling like he’s been hit by a freight train. his tongue is heavy inside his mouth, the pungent taste of last night’s alcohol rising from the back of his throat like bile. he groans, blinking blurry eyes as he tries to remember where he’s at or what he’s done, only for nausea to wash over him so intensely he flops back down onto the bed—

he pats at the cushioning.

—onto the sofa then.

by the devil, what did he do last night? got him drinking like he’s got a new liver to replace this one he fucked with.

christ. he needs water, or a whole bottle of mouthwash, honestly.

“mactavish?”

johnny jumps, twisting his head to the side at the call of his name. it’s simon, of course it is, but he looks dishevelled, unkempt in a way that looks criminal because—johnny roves his eyes over his friend—who the hell looks that good when they’ve just woken up?

simon looks like he can be the next cover of inside fitness; give tyler fucking seguin a run for his own money.

“wha’,” is all johnny gets to say because he starts sputtering, dizziness hitting him intensely again. he gags, and only has enough mind to cover his mouth with his fist.

“jesus– down the hall. go,” simon barks and johnny warbles his thanks before locking himself in the guest bathroom.

.

johnny comes back out to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and melted butter wafting through. simon did say he had a problem with his kitchen vents which made cooking a problem, but johnny sure isn’t complaining right now. although, he supposes that it is a whole different problem when it’s steak or some ribs that simon’s firing up.

oh well, johnny thinks, scratching his side as he ambles to the island, pointedly quiet because simon might kick him out before breakfast is even done.

simon eyes him with a muted approval and johnny grins because, hey, he just secured free breakfast.

he’s about to break the silence, to apologize once more he guesses, when the sounds of padded feet descending from the stairs leading up to simon’s lavishly decorated—sarcasm intended—second floor pierces through the silence.

johnny’s back straightens, his exhausted mind clicking awake.

he turns to his friend but simon’s already angled towards the kitchen door, facing away from johnny. he looks relaxed, previous half-bareness now covered up with a thin white shirt, and johnny doesn’t know why he missed it but simon looks like a perfect picture of a boyfriend fixing up breakfast post-coitus.

“jesus–” johnny begins to say, the pieces linking because yeah, simon’s never denied that he’s been doing some dating around and it’s just johnny’s drunken whim to assume that the most talented ice hockey player of this decade was lying about his relationship status and—good lord, that’s a fucking person diving in simon’s arms, alright.

johnny watches, with his mouth agape, as simon and the mystery woman talk to each other in hushed whispers, his friend having to bend forward to make up for the height difference.

johnny watches, like the third-wheel he is, as simon laughs, actual quiet chuckles and not that children-crying-in-terror-inducing cackle, before nuzzling his nose over your own, and breathing you in.

johnny watches the quiet kiss, just lips pecking each other, and it’s all so soft and tender and johnny feels really, really bad that he didn’t get to give simon and his girl the privacy you two surely deserve and—

your eyes open, flitting to him because johnny is sure that he’s standing out amidst what must be a normally empty kitchen. he doesn’t even get to count three seconds before you’re screaming, lurching out of simon’s hold and hiding behind his bulk in your terror.

simon, screw him, seems to not have cared that johnny was privy to such an intimate moment and just turns enough to catch your attention again before murmuring reassurances. he says things like, “mactavish? the punk ass who got his hair shaved for the new season only to realize no one’s actually gon’ see it because of the helmet? remember?”

“what,” johnny chokes out, embarrassed that that’s what simon told you about and not, like, his player number or something.

“oh,” you gasp out anyway, clearly having heard of the shaved-sides and using it as a marker for johnny. “oh!”

you dance away from behind simon to make your way to johnny, your previous embarrassment gone from your gait. he’s so sure, though, that he’s seen you from somewhere, but the thought’s dashed out of his mind when you chirp, “you’re my best friend’s favourite player!”

“yeah?” johnny replies, gaining his confidence back.

“yeah! she won’t stop showing me the highlights of your guys’ game against that big german fella an’ his team!”

johnny laughs, his own giddiness ramping up. he remembers that game, alright. he remembers the miracle play during the final period when price was able to score an empty-netter. he remembers how, in his adrenaline-induced ecstasy, johnny turned to the player to his side, konig, and laughed in his face.

johnny made headlines then, and he’s saved every single one. his fiancee even printed a copy of her favourite shot and stuck it in her wallet.

(“for good luck,” she said with a wink, like johnny doesn’t have his prick twitching in her fist.)

“well, y’got anything for me to sign for her?”

“uhh…”

“guess you can use that one group photo our marketing team gave to us,” simon finally pipes up, and johnny turns, surprise lining his face at seeing the rich spread of breakfast.

he didn’t even notice simon setting up the table, too engrossed in the high that came from reliving the memory of laughing at konig’s face which resulted to him being pushed into the glass protector by a protective horangi.

not even that had dampened johnny’s elation then and now.

“oh yeah. thanks!” you say to simon before you run out.

you’re barely out of their eyesights when johnny turns to simon with a grin.

“what.”

“oh, you fucken’ sap!” johnny sings because he’s still too hungover to come up to simon and playfully punch him. “and why were ye hidin’ lassie?”

simon grumbles something as he turns, pretending to busy himself with the now-empty coffee pot.

“wha’s’at?”

“i said,” simon begins, heaving out a sigh. “that we jus’ became official last week.”

“oh, shit,” johnny whispers sagely. he blinks. “so, uh, who’s the one you’ve been callin’ yer girl?”

“oh fuck off johnny,” simon hisses, sputtering, before throwing the tea towel at him.

“what now!?” johnny yelps, ducking away from the soaring towel. “what’d i do now–” he gasps, realization dawning on him. “you didn’t.”

simon looked like he was going to say something but by then you were running back with the photo and a marker pen, telling him your friend’s name—alessandra, “or sandy!”—for johnny to sign.

while johnny’s busy practicing his signature on a scrap of newspaper that simon gave to him, he pretends not to hear the giggly whispers between his friend and his friend’s new but longtime-pining-for girlfriend.

“and me? why aren’t you asking f’r my signature?”

“oh ‘cuz y’r mine.”

johnny dutifully ignores the lips smacking sounds as he finally signs the picture, making sure to add devil horns on simon’s head.

serves him right.

i just. love fluff and hockey au sm 😞

[55sturn]

✮ SAYIN’ SORRY FOR THAT NIGHT

series masterlist!

paring: boston bruins player!chris sturniolo x fem!reader!

synopsis: in which y/n is greeted by a sudden revelation on the night of chris’ most anticipated game, the one that determines whether or not the bruins get into the playoffs and she’s left apologizing for the night that caused it all.

warnings: swearing, fluff, mentions and descriptions of violent fights, verbal arguments, unplanned pregnancy, discussion of abortions, comments from the other team and hecklers, open ending, angst, angst, angst, and more angst.

THIRD PERSON POV

to be in the limelight alone is tough. to be in it for something such a hockey, where a million and one eyes are watching your every move, scrutinizing every play you make, every workout you do to toughen your body and build your endurance for the tasking time spent on the ice is even tougher, but to do all of that with a public relationship is the toughest thing.

chris knew that announcing his relationship at the peak of his career with the boston bruins was not going to be easy. he had all eyes on him as the bruins' newest right winger, but not only was he the newest player, he was also the youngest to join in years.

just like connor mcdavid's rise to fame with the edmonton oilers, chris was in the spotlight and it wasn't easy. he was in the spotlight because he was a phenomenal player with a chipper attitude that most hockey players don't seem to have. he had been scouted at one of his toughest games in his college career and almost immediately the contracts began flowing and the drafting process had started.

as eyes of everyone involved in the hockey world began to shift to the star of what they called "the boston bruins' new era and future captain", so did the female attention. not only was chris good at what he did, but he was insanely good looking, at least to the younger female demographic that had taken an interest in hockey.

but he didn't care for the, for a lack of a better name, puck bunnies or the future hockey wives in training, he had his own hockey wife sitting front row in the v.i.p section at every game, smiling as she watched him zip back and forth between his teammates and the teammates that he was facing

as he announced who the mystery girl in his practice jersey at every game was, he faced an onslaught of even more hate disguised as criticism and scrutiny from devout bruins fans, potential drafting scouts, and anyone willing to spare an opinion. but as the rather distasteful comments rolled in, his skin grew thicker, because as long as he had her to go home to, he could handle it.

PRESENT TIME

chris sat on the bench in the hallway adorning the infamous bruins logos, each brick in the wall holding some sort of history of the team, twirling tape around the blade of his stick. he found the dressing room too stuffy right before a game, so he and john beecher sat outside the dressing room, joking amongst themselves as they prepared for the game.

"cmon man, you played big games before you'll be fine." john chuckled, handing chris back his spare roll of stick tape as chris sighed.

"i know, it's just a big fuckin' game tonight. haven't played montreal yet."

"wait this is your first game against montreal?"

"yes and as a boston native, i know this is the game, just don't wanna fuck up when this decides whether or not we make it to playoffs."

"kid you'll be fine, you've outdone mcdavid's first year and that's pretty fuckin' bizarre 'cause he's a powerhouse." beecher reassured, clapping the young right winger on the shoulder before heading back to the dressing room. chris stared at the wall across, still struggling to comprehend how his life has become the way it is, he's incredibly grateful for the opportunities he's gotten and proud of the work he's put in, it's just still hard to fathom.

sensing that she should give her boyfriend a quick visit before he went on to the ice, y/n made her way through the crowds of people, smiling at the fans that addressed her, politely declining to take pictures until after the game. she proudly donned a large "8" and the name "STURNIOLO" scrawled across the back of a black away-game jersey and black jeans and her trusty, yet dirty, air forces, proudly showing her support for the man she's loved for six years, since she was a small fourteen year old navigating her year of high school with the triplets by her side.

the thin plastic stick weighed heavy in the pocket of her hoodie she wore beneath the jersey, she was about to tell chris about it, to give him a little motivation to play extra hard. but when she spotted the reporter’s mic pointed toward his helmet covered face, she placed that idea on the back burner. smiling she approached chris,

“hey mister big shot.” she laughed, causing chris to grin as he introduced her to the reported as his girlfriend. the reporter quickly bid the couple goodbye, leaving them to have their moment together.

“hey so i’ve got some really good news for you.” y/n smiled, smoothing her hands over his shoulder pads as he tugged off his helmet, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

“listen i wanna go be apart of the chant so i need to go, can this news wait?”

“i guess so. give ‘em hell baby, i love you.”

“always ma, i love you.” chris replied, bouncing on his skates slightly before shoving his helmet back on, quickly shoving his way through the door leading to short hallway his team would walk through.

y/n stared at his back, watching him fade away as she was left to mull over the news she was about to tell chris. it was the start of his career and she didn’t want to derail it any, so the choice between telling him now or tell him in a month waged a violent war in her mind.

shaking her head, she made her way back to the staircase leading to the v.i.p section, as she wove through crowds of people, she heard the gasps and murmurs.

“that’s who the new bruins guy is dating? i won’t be shocked when he starts fucking the puck sluts in a month.”

“she looks out of place and that jersey is so unflattering on her.”

“i hope sturniolo comes to his senses and dumps her ass soon.”

scoffing, y/n climbed the stairs, pushing the overwhelmingly upsetting thoughts from her mind as she spotted nick and matt in their seats. breaking the news to someone was imperative to her, not telling someone would break her but she didn’t know whether she should tell someone before chris.

of course she and chris had talked about their views on starting a family together and the idea of raising a baby together but there was one issue,

chris wanted to wait until secured a long term contract with the bruins. he didn’t want anything to deter his plans. and y/n understood, he has worked so unbelievably hard to get to the position he’s in now. starting a family takes a lot of dedication, time, effort, and devotion without distractions. chris was concerned that if they had a baby early on in his professional hockey career, she’d be left alone to carry out so many of the responsibilities that being a parent brought on.

so as y/n made her way to her designated seat, her heart felt heavy. her doubts only grew with every step she took, and it felt like her body had been held down, it was as if she had cinder blocks chained to her ankles. as she sat beside nick, he picked up on her mood, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that sonething was bothering her though. nick bumped her elbow with his, as if to ask what’s wrong and she just smiled and shook her head.

mary-lou, who was sat behind y/n and her three sons, immediately knew what was going on. y/n had a certain glow to her, despite the sorrowful look that had become deeply etched into her skin. she knew that pained expression anywhere, she understood what the taut shoulders, pinched eyebrows, and distraught gleam in her eyes all too well. but the older woman put her excitement about becoming a grandmother off to the side, deciding she’d wait to gloat until y/n had accepted the idea her self.

the family conversed among themselves while the teams prepared to saunter out onto the ice, letting the fans get hyped up. a voice boomed from above, prompting cheers and hollers from the people taking up the stands.

“please welcome your home team, the boston bruins!” the commentator exclaimed, dragging out the words boston bruins in typical emcee fashion, allowing the fans and supporters chant for their team as he played the bruins’ intro song as they skated onto the ice one by one, the emcee announcing the names and numbers above the music.

y/n couldn’t help but lett the pride and excitement she felt show brightly on her face, despite the worries she suffered deep down. she was so incredibly proud of chris, him landing a secure spot on the bruins was a long time coming. it was his dream back in high school the moment he secured a spot on his high school’s team with ease. he was a natural born hockey player and it showed through the surplus of dedication he put into it. and y/n felt more than lucky to be there on the sidelines from the very beginning.

as the emcee asked from everyone to stand for the national anthem, a cheesy grin broke out on her face as chris stood on the offensive line facing the vip box, and pointed up to where he knew she’d be sitting before forming his hand into the best half heart possible that his bulky gloves would allow. she felt her cheeks warm with a deep blush as chris’ family playfully teased her for having their brother and son completely and unfalteringly whipped.

“shut up!” she laughed, her nerves drifting away as the game started. the excitement she never failed to feel at every single one of chris’ games, whether it was just him filling in for the local adult men’s teams or an exhibition game for his old college team, she was always filled with adrenaline as she stood and sat in the stands.

but that was expected when born into a city that favours the winter sport, you were either born with the excitement coursing through your veins or you were born with a deep hatred for it filling every crevice of your body. there was no in between.

y/n cheered along with chris’ family as he zipped, swerved, bobbed, and weaved up and down the ice. that was one thing that most players envied chris for, he was fast and slick, almost as if he was water slipping through your fingers.

and not only was he fast, he held great control over the puck as she moved down the ice, the puck never got away from him as he maneuvered it between players, alternating which side his stick was covering and pushing it.

there was fifteen seconds left in the second period and both montreal and boston held three goals each as chris stood for a moment back checking as his teammates guarding him, and with five seconds ticking down, he delivered a brutal slap shot, sending the puck into the net behind carey price who had dropped to block it a second too late.

the bruins fans’ side of the stands erupted in loud cheers, and so did y/n and chris’ family, his parents laughing giddily as matt made a backhanded comment about price being too old for goaltending.

“i will be right back, i have to use the washroom.” y/n interjects, letting nick know where she’d while the rest of them grabbed drinks.

“yo y/n, you drink budlight right?” justin hums, causing her stomach to drop, her usual habit of having a beer with them at chris’ games being something she hadn’t even considered.

“uh can you just grab me an iced tea? i’ve got an early appointment tomorrow and i’d rather not show up at my doctor’s smelling like beer.” she laughs nervously, causing justin to shrug and accept her answer before heading off to the concession stand near the entrance of the vip box.

“i’ll come with you, i’ve got to use the ladie’s room too.” mary-lou hums, smiling appreciatively as y/n waited for her.

however as they made their way to back of the section they were sitting in, mary-lou motioned for y/n to follow her out into the small hallway that lead to the smoking doors, it was empty as the two stood there.

“how far along are you?” mary-lou whispers, unable to withhold her suspicions any longer, and the abrupt question had y/n’s stomach twisting into more knots than it was already in.

“wha-how did you figure it out?”

“i’ve had my suspicions for a while, the last time you were over i heard you throwing up, and you’ve got the pregnancy glow. plus you’ve been wearing baggy clothes and you aren’t drinking tonight.”

“fuck. sorry for my language. but i think i’m about two and a half months along. last month i just thought my period was late because i was sick and when i get sick, my period is normally late. but then i missed this month’s too and it clicked.”

“have you told chris yet?” mary-lou spoke, her voice soft as she rest a reassuring hand on her future daughter in law’s arm as she shook her head.

“i wanted to tell him before the game, to give him a little motive to play harder but he didn’t want to miss the chant and pep talk so he left before i could say anything about it. i’ve got the test in my pocket and i know it’s not smart to go off just one test so that’s why i’m going to the doctor tomorrow.”

“well i think you should tell him, i think he’ll be happy.”

“that’s what i’m worried about, he wanted to wait until he secured a long term contract. we had this conversation about a month ago.”

“you can’t necessarily control these things. a family comes to be when it’s meant to happen, not when you want it to happen.”

mary-lou’s words stuck deep in y/n’s mind. she knew that chris’ mother was right. y/n had just wished her and chris were a bit more careful that drunken night in the hotel.

FLASHBACK

chris and y/n’s drunken giggles bounced off the walls as they pushed their way into their room. they had gone out for dinner with the team and eventually broke off on their own after swiping two of the complementary bottles of champagne that the teams managers had provided.

they stumbled through the city after hiding in an empty room in the banquet hall, chugging the nasty liquor as quick as they could handle on empty stomachs.

“god baby, you look so pretty in this dress, just wanna tear it off you.” chris rasped, his cheeks flushing and eyes drooping, from the alcohol, or the effect his girlfriend had on him, or maybe even both, she wasn’t quite sure. making him look all the more enticing to y/n.

“do it then.” y/n slurred back, pulling chris into a messy, sloppy, yet incredibly hot, like searingly hot, make out, chris’ hands roamed her body feverishly, unable to stay in one place very long.

as their ministration progressed, so did their desire for one another and the lingering buzz they had from the alcohol left room for a few less than sound decisions. chris drunkenly justified going in raw by saying “just wanna feel as close to you as possible.” and that was all the convincing y/n needed, but she made him promise to pull out in time.

but due to their inebriation, chris wasn’t quick enough but they had long forgotten it by the time morning came.

FLASHBACK OVER

and now she was paying the price for them being reckless. sighing, she made her way back to her seat just as the intermission ended and chris' team made their way back to the home bench, their net switching back to the end they started out on.

it wasn't too far into the third period when the canadiens were getting aggressive, the score was eight to five in favour of boston and montreal was getting mad that they were losing the game, the most awaited game since it was announced boston and montreal would be facing each other to land a bracket in the playoffs.

the fact that it was also playoff season made y/n's stomach twist even tighter, she felt sick. she was so scared she was going to fuck up chris' life plan and she couldn't bear that idea.

but her current worries were thrown on the back burner when she watched a much bigger player from montreal's team check chris, sending him flying back against the ice, his head ricocheting off the ice, leaving chris laying flat on the ice.

chris' coach calls a time-out while paramedics quickly make their way onto the ice, carrying chris off the ice, and before y/n could react, she was pushing her way through the bustling crowd and stomping down the stairs, quickly sprinting to chris' change room.

"i'm sorry ma'am but you can't be in here."

"i'm his fiance." y/n spits, pushing her way into the change room, immediately rushing to chris, raising her hand to play with his hair, pausing momentarily to silently ask for permission which was granted by him leaning into her touch.

"we're okay, if anything happens, we'll call for you." chris rasps, waving away the paramedics, sighing sadly after being told he's not allowed back on the ice for the rest of the game to prevent being knocked around again because he was highly vulnerable to getting a concussion right now.

"tell me something to distract me, baby." chris whispers, pulling y/n into his lap, the bulky padding beneath her feeling foreign as she leans her head on his shoulder.

"i'm not sure what to talk about." she laughs as he rubs his hand back and forth along her thigh.

"your news from earlier."

"oh." she squeaks, her voice almost inaudible as she realizes that it's now or never. sighing, she grabs the test out of her pocket from beneath the spare jersey she wore, placing it into chris' hand with a heartbroken expression and timid voice,

"we're pregnant, chris."

taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @strawberrysturniolo @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @carolsturns1 @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @cutenote @ellie-luvsfics

© 55STURN 2024 [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

[kitnita]

happy last-stretch-of-baseball-season-before-hockey-season-starts to all who celebrate. can i interest you in an improved take on baseball au robotter?

[fleurywiththesave]

this is nsfw

[nothingbutnowhere]

Hockey player au! Simon "Ghost" Riley headcanons. Based on the NHL

Note: suggestive of ghoap and ghoap x reader (she/her used)

Goalie. Starter. Tall, large, and most importantly: weird. Goalies are always weird, idk they just are, it's what happens when you spend half the game hanging out alone I guess

The best part of goalie Ghost is his flexibility. Have you seen how flexible goalies are? These huge, muscular men can do the splits. It's very important to me that you consider flexible Ghost, thank you.

His mask is black and white, matches his tattoos. He's the unshakable goalie, not flashy, never frustrated. Just a brick fuckin wall. If he sees it, he's going to stop it. You cannot snipe on him and score. Also his rebound control is unreal, no second chances.

He never retaliates against opposing players fucking with him because no one fucks with him due to:

His death glare, it's enough to make any and every enforcer or net nuisance shake in his skates

The Incident in the minors where he sent a guy to the hospital with a jab from his blocker and almost got kicked out of the league and banned from the NHL

On the off chance that something untoward does happen on accident, someone else will do that for him. The bond between a goalie and his defensemen cannot be understated. Ok fine. Soap. He's the defenseman, there's the spoiler.

Very superstitious, has his routines and does not deviate. Doesn't ever take his mask off on the ice, except when it breaks. Doesn't even pull it up to squirt water on his face or drink.

The loyalty that his skaters have towards him and vice versa is off the charts. Even if the media and fans don't see it, it's there. Usually guys don't speak poorly of their goalies, but this is on another level. Ferda.

Speaking of, social media people can never catch him. Like seriously where does this guy even walk in the building?? Where does he go during intermission?? Surely he practices at some point right?? He won the Veznia trophy (voted best goalie) and straight up did not show up to the ceremony.

He will go to the children's hospital to do visits with the team and the kids are either terrified or love him. Picturing him giving out the little teddy bears 😭

Caught covid despite his vigilant PPE usage (hockey locker rooms are cesspools like ew), got really sick, and developed myocarditis; ie almost died multiple times, recovered insanely fast and then just showed back up to practice one day at 100% like "put me in coach". No one outside of the trainers and locker room even knew why he was gone to begin with. Wild stuff.

Hockey players tend to tack on an '-y' or sometimes '-er' to a name for funsies but no one gets to call him 'Ghosty'. (Maybe Soap can call him that in private, as a treat 🥺)

Hockey hair status: he shaves his head boooo (not that you'd even be able to tell really with his mask and use of hats and hoods). Won't even grow out facial hair during the playoffs. Maybe if he did then he'd have a cup. Smh.

Roster pic: the meanest mug you've ever seen on a guy

Mic'd up status: everyone thinks he's unmic-able, however he's secretly telling jokes to himself when the puck is in the other zone. But no one needs to know that.

WAG status: if he had one we would never know... Right? He's always in the background of photos that Soap's girlfriend takes and posts of her and Soap? Much speculation.

...

I do NOT consent for my works, part of my works, or my ideas to be used for ANY form of AI.

Note: WAG stands for wife and girlfriend or the plural, used to refer to sports guys significant others. Yes it is heteronormative.

A/N: I'll never actually write fics for this, but I have headcanons. I know a moderate amount about hockey and next to nothing about cod so apologies. Completely unserious. Just some silly little thoughts :) plus letterkenny reference!

Edit for typo

More hockey au: Soap | Gaz | Price

[reineydraws]

Okay, so I know the last time you mentioned/said anything about your hockey au was months ago, but I was bored at work and started thinking about it.

100% when the Straw Hat Pirates got a goal, Zoro skated too fast to the plexiglass and fell through (not in a shattering way, but in a 'the glass/plastic wasn't sealed correctly') and just continued his celebration from his seat on the ground

Smoker is definitely a referee because that man is Done. Referees basically have to corral grown men who get into fights like kids, so the dislike is usually mutual. Smoker absolutely despises the Pirates, but Luffy sometimes would poke him with his stick and go "hey sorry for yelling earlier 🥺" (an actual thing between a ref and, of course, a Canadian). This causes Smoker to have mixed feelings about these idiots. He will not let a single person know that he's a little soft around them.

(Poor Tashigi is that one ref that all the hockey players skate into or something. Fans are usually alright with her so when she makes a call, they all just accept it because she's been knocked down already.)

And I don't know how far into the manga/anime you are, but the part with Koby and Helmeppo makes me think about how one of them notices something suspicious within the hockey (or even Olympics, which might be more plausible) world, so they go into a form of investigative sports news

I had way more on my mind, but I have no idea where you are in the series (either through hard, truthful labor or through One Piece info osmosis)

omg i love that ur thinking abt this. 😭💖 i have a lot of projects on my plate rn but rest assured i have a note for the au that just keeps getting longer abt more stuff to draw. 😂

i love all these! i also love how hockey fans find my au and tell me these lil hockey anecdotes; they're so fun. :') i was so charmed by the apology thing that i looked it up and then drew it aha.

aw, tashigi 😂 and yes about koby and helmeppo!!! i was thinking about them doing exactly that with the olympics, and that there would be some corruption there at the top.

re: spoilers, i don't mind them! i'm kind of all over the place 'cuz i just read whatever fic, google liberally, watch the anime as it comes out with my brother, and i just started properly reading the manga too. 😂 so just send those hc's over if you want to! i'm happy to read 'em.

[beguilingcorpse]

god i love reading contemporary romance. this is among the worst first pages of any novel i’ve ever read ever

[lonewolflink]

Wheel, Snipe, Celly

Ryujin was surprised, but delighted, to discover that Yeji played in the bedroom the way she played on the ice: with tenacity, accuracy, and a touch of flair. -- the ryeji college hockey au

Chapter 8 Preview: Time was running out. The clock on the scoreboard read 3:52 remaining in the third period as the puck flew over the boards on a deflection, the ref whistling to stop play. Yeji knew her team only had enough time for a max of eight more line shifts to try to tie the game; realistically, more like six. “Yeji.” Jihyo slid to a stop next to her by the faceoff dot at neutral ice. “Get me the puck.” There were so many things that Yeji loved about playing with Jihyo, from the satisfying combination of perfect, soft pass and wickedly hard shot at the top of the left faceoff circle, to the instinctive knowledge of where the other would be on the ice without even looking. Most of all, Yeji loved something they had in common: a determination to rise to the occasion when the time called for it. The occasion was here. Time to heed the call.

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

✨chapter 8✨

Prequel - Smoke Signals (2yeon)

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

[tojisun]

shit hockey player gaz and his team would do back in uni 😭

[55sturn]

✮ BUSIER THAN EVER

series masterlist!

pairing: boston bruins player!chris sturniolo x fem!reader!

synopsis: in which chris busies himself with training and practices, not realizing that it’s driving a wedge between him and y/n, leading her to believe that he’s hiding his true feelings about telling the world about their child.

warnings: swearing, angst, chris not being mentally present, verbal arguments, mentions of depression, anxiety, vomiting, chris is being a jackass, angst, this is another sad chapter sorry.

THIRD PERSON POV

waking up to an empty house and being left alone with her thoughts has become a common occurrence for y/n. chris used every window and opening in his schedule to be away from the house as y/n began collecting trinkets and furniture for the nursery.

she figured he just wanted to get as much ice time in right now as possible before the baby came. but there was a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach, telling her that chris didn't want to be home while she prepped for the baby and began nesting.

that raw, unwavering feeling told her that chris was sticking around for her sake, for the sake of not letting another kid come into this world without both parents. not because he wanted to raise and start a family. it led her to believe that he wasn't sticking around for the sake of loving the life growing inside her.

so as she unboxed a few of the baby items that she had ordered from small businesses online, she felt an overwhelming sadness claw at her heart. this was supposed to be a bonding moment for her and chris. preparing the nursery as expecting parents was supposed to be a shared core memory, and yet here was, putting together the baby's room alone.

she couldn't reach out to matt and nick because chris had led them to believe that he was all in. that he wanted this as much as y/n did, and if she expressed that she had been completely alone thus far, it would cause a rift between chris and his brothers, and that would be the straw that breaks the camel's back in their relationship.

she had already taken something from him by announcing the pregnancy to him instead of terminating it, so she couldn't bear to take anything else from him. she started to feel like a black hole in the universe of chris' life. she felt like she had sucked up everything that he once loved, only to spit them back out and turn them into something he despised.

the baby blue giraffe statue that she held fell from her grasp as sobs wracked her body. the crashing and shattering sound of the ceramic figurine only amplified her sobs. she felt so lost and alone.

after grabbing the broom and dustpan, she quickly swept up the broken shards, disposing of them, and returning to the room she was converting into a nursery, making quick work of folding the baby blankets and jumpers, placing them in the closet for the time being.

once she had finished unpacking her orders, she made her way into the kitchen, her body exhausted and drained with dried tear tracks on her cheeks. she made herself a quick meal, dishing out another helping for chris, again, out of pure habit. as she ate, she stared at the empty seat across from her.

she thought of all the dinners they shared, the loud laughs, the loving smiles they flashed as they ate in comfortable silence, and the domesticity of it all, and the memories tugged at her heartstrings. they felt like a distant blur in the back of her mind. she couldn't remember the last time they sat down together without it leading to a tense silence or an angry conversation. she looked down at the small bump forming beneath her shirt with tears in her eyes,

"looks like it's just going to be me and you, baby."

chris was stressed. he didn't know what to think. all he did was train, practice, go home, fight with y/n, sleep, and repeat. he tried so hard to believe he wanted the family life right now, but the selfish part of his mind told him that having a family would only drag him down.

that same selfish part told him that his career was all he needed right now. that his position on the bruins was the most important thing going for him currently. and he tried hard to sway that part of his mind but it was no use.

he did want a family of his own, more than anything, but he couldn't convince himself that now was the right time for it. and he couldn't bring himself to be in the house while y/n put together the nursery because it reminded him of what he was going to give up.

it reminded him that he had a choice, his family or his career. he knew he needed to be there for y/n but he was angry and frustrated and that led to him shutting her out. he knew he was fucking up but he just couldn't see that he needed to be there for her, not when she is the reason he felt like his life was in shambles.

and he hated himself for feeling like that towards her, he knew it wouldn't be a permanent feeling, he just needed to come around to the news but it'll take time.

as chris walked into the house, he was met with silence, and for the first time in a long time, he missed hearing y/n run up to him with her arms open wide. as he walked through the house, he stopped at the nursery, and found her curled up in a ball on the plush recliner placed in the corner of the room. as he approached her, he noticed the dried tear tracks staining her cheeks, and for the first time in a long while, he felt his heart constrict. had he really left her alone while she was battling such intense feelings? had he really left her alone in a fragile state? normally when he left for practice, he'd check in on her. and yet, he's acting like she doesn't exist.

he felt anger stew in his chest as he realized how selfishly he had been acting. he knew better than to abandon the girl he loves, and yet, he'd been doing just that without showing any remorse. sighing, he gently shakes her, stirring her awake.

"hey ma, why are you sleeping in here?"

"i figured you would want to sleep when you got home so i decided you could have the bed and i'll just sleep in here tonight." she whispers, her voice thick with sleep and distress as chris' brows furrow.

"why?"

"you've been so distant lately, i figured you'd want the bed to yourself so instead of causing another fight, i can just give it up."

"y/n don't."

"you're never here anymore chris and it is killing me to go through this alone but i can't make you want this, so the best i can do is let you be alone and come to terms with whatever is happening on your own."

"i do want this, what the fuck do you mean?" chris spits, his voice raising as she sits and stares at him, her face void of all emotion while chris' face grows taut with frustation.

"no you don't chris. if you did, you'd be here, you'd help put this room together, you wouldn't leave me alone to deal with it all by myself if you wanted this. you're making yourself and your family think you want this because you can't stand letting people down but you're already doing that. you're never here and you're starting to hate me. i can't remember the last time you hugged or kissed me since i told you i was pregnant chris."

"i do want this, it's just so new to me and i need to process."

"you don't think i need to process? you don't think it's new to me?"

"i never said that!"

"well the way you act chris, shows that you have no regard for what i am dealing with during all this. i need you and instead of being here, i'm losing you. you're pushing me away and shutting me out and you still blame me. it's not fair."

"well i need to focus on my career too." chris seethes, his chest falling and rising rapidly, quickly growing stressed as they start to have the same fight they've had almost every day.

"your career isn't everything chris, and you promised me that when you got drafted that i wouldn't come second place to it but i guess breaking promises has become your thing."

"can we get this over with? i'm tired and i just wanted to see my girl."

"am i really your girl chris? or am i just here?"

"y/n, come on, you know i love you." chris sighs, crouching in front of the girl as tears well along her waterline.

"i don't know that chris! you don't say it anymore."

chris sighs as his lips turn downward, without another word he pulls the girl to her feet and takes her place in the recliner, pulling her into his lap. as he tucks her head against his chest, right above his heart, he realizes that he really was letting the one person that he's ever loved slip away because he fed into his own selfishness, not seeing how badly it was killing her.

"i know it's hard to trust me right now baby, but i do want this, i'm just so overwhelmed and scared but i'm going to do better."

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[illogicallyinclined]

I’ve realized recently that i really grew up with the hockey au, and even though we’re all in uni and other things, i wanted to say thank u for the lovely little universe you’ve created here. it’s comforting to come back to when i need some safe, nostalgic content 🫶

-🐝

i love the hockey au with all my heart, and i am very happy to hear that it could bring comfort to you in any way <3

that said, i absolutely plan on coming back home to it eventually, so i hope we can all hold on through whatever harships we've got going on together until then

in the meantime, have a little anecdote (tw: drinking)

Joan makes a Point of telling their terrible hockey children that they "do not condone drinking in excess" (especially during the hockey season). but also, they were a college student at one point and they Get It, so they don't actually hammer down on this rule. (and, on top of that, they have a second rule: if a player is drunk and needs a ride home, they will provide it at any time, no questions asked -- provided the player makes it to the next practice and doesn't make a habit of it.)

that said, the first time D had a really bad experience solo at a bar, he ended up texting Joan in his drunken haze -- and he was absolutely floored when Joan held true to their word, arriving at the bar a little past 2 AM and safely delivering D to his apartment without so much as a pitying glance in his direction. D never ended up properly saying thank you -- (he was far too embarrassed at the show of vulnerability for that) -- but he stuck close to Joan at the next practice, and when Joan went back to their (shared) office, they found a yellow tulip on top of a post-it note with a small drawing of a double-headed snake.

[tangerisms]

SEATTLE KRAKEN

FANTASY HOCKEY AU : 2 / 32

NOTES :

(the basis of this au is that gods and magic rule NHL teams. magic surround teams and their players. gods take sacrifices in the forms of wins , fights , blood spilled on the ice , etc.)

- the kraken's gods are freshly reawakened, having stayed dormant for decades. they rule the deep sea and dark corners of trenches. wriggling masses of tentacles and deep sea creatures

- their magic thrums steadily, sometimes crackling with the renewed energy and vigor in it

- kraken players have an odd glow about them, a sort of bioluminescence that they carry around. they have cloudy pupils that often look unseeing and empty, although don't be fooled by it. they still see everything

- some are likened to sirens with their strangely alluring qualities, like something human but too pale and unnerving. their bioluminescence is often intriguing, drawing other players in before attacking, like an anglerfish.

(they don't ACTUALLY attack people , it's usually just slashing or fighting or any sort of increased physicality in their play)

[martybaker]

4 - figure skater Dream/ hockey player Hob please? 👀

Ask me about my wips

Thank you for the ask! Sorry it took me so long to answer it, but I actually managed to finish the one scene (or rather two consecutive scenes) I had drafted for this au back when the idea was first conceived, so thank you for the inspiration ❤️

I am posting all that now, because why the hell not 🙃

Fair warning, this story has a very romcom logic, which is to say, don’t think about it too hard 😅

Hob and Dream attend the same university and the school’s doing some cuts and only one sport will continue to get financial support - either hockey or figure skating. Dream and Hob have a challenge to win a major competition by the end of the semester, whoever manages to do that will secure the financial support for their sport. In the meantime they of course fall in love.

The following scene features a fun dynamic that I enjoyed exploring - Dream and Corinthian as ex boyfriends :) There’s also a lil scene with Hob at the end. Enjoy :)

————————————-

There’s a slow clapping sound from the bleachers and Dream skids to a stop.

“Hello, beautiful.”

Dream sighs. This is the last person he would want to deal with right now. “What do you want, Cori,” he asks, resuming his routine practice, trying to focus on the movements rather than on the unwelcome presence of his ex.

“Why, I just came to enjoy the view.”

“I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

“Don’t you? I don’t see any company. Where’s your new puppy?”

So that’s what this is about. Dream shakes his head in disbelief. They broke up five months ago and Cori would still come back with obnoxious propositions. It was over, there was nothing else to say on the topic. There was no reason for him to explain himself to Cori, it wasn’t his business who Dream keeps company with.

“He’s not my puppy.”

“Ain’t he? He follows you around everywhere, salivating at your feet.”

Dream feels the irritation rising in him with every word Cori says, even though he knows that’s exactly what the guy’s aiming for - trying to provoke him.

“Leave Hob alone, Cori,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

“Ah, so you do care about him. Thought he was just a plaything.”

“He’s nobody’s plaything. Leave. Him. Alone.”

Cori sneers. “I really don’t understand what you can possibly see in him. What’s he have that I don’t?”

Dream snorts. “He’s not a self-centered prick, for starters.”

“That’s rich coming from you. We’re birds of a feather, remember?”

Dream doesn’t offer any response to that, which just makes Cori push harder.

“I’ve been making my way through the lacrosse team, but hockey players sure have their appeal, maybe I should mix things up a bit.”

Dream stops the routine and skates towards Cori, stopping by the boards which create a border between them.

“Can’t you find another pass-time than messing with people?”he hisses. “It’s an embarrassment that I ever believed you to be worth anything.”

Cori’s brow twitches, breaking his mask of nonchalance.

“You’re a nightmare, Cori. You play with your victims until they start to bore you and then you leave them to bleed out on the sidewalk.”

Cori snorts. “Please. They know exactly what they’re getting into with me. Everybody knows I don’t linger.”

Dream raises his eyebrows at that.

Cori frowns. “You were different. You were special.”

Dream snorts.

Cori frowns deeper, jaw clenching. He steps forward, up to the boards. “You were. I thought we had something.”

Dream shakes his head and turns his back on Cori, skating back to the middle of the ice rink.

“I bet he can’t make you scream like I can!” Cori shouts.

Dream snorts. Nothing can piss Cori off more than being ignored. “Maybe I am just good at pretending, have you thought about that?”

“Liar. You used to love our games.”

“Everything’s a game to you, Cori. That’s the problem. You don’t know when to stop. You love watching people suffer, you’re a cruel sadist, but not just in bed. You exploit every weakness. And you make everything about you. On my birthday, you took me to a goddamn shooting range!”

“You said you’d like to try.”

Dream huffs in disbelief, turning back around to face Cori.

“From a bow! I wanted to try shooting from a bow! You were only half-listening, as always. I despise guns!”

“It ain’t my fault you don’t have the guts for it.”

Dream laughs bitterly, shaking his head.

“See, this is exactly what I mean. You’re doing it again. Absolving yourself from guilt. Making it my fault. I’ve had enough of your mindgames. I’ve had enough of your sadistic universe.”

Cori shrugs. “That’s how I was made. I thought you could understand. I thought you could take it.”

Dream sighs tiredly. “That’s not a relationship, Cori. When one side is in charge and the other just takes it.”

Cori rises an eyebrow, his tone mocking. “If you wanted to switch, you could have just asked.”

Dream stares at him, unimpressed.

“This is pointless. Conversations with you never lead anywhere.”

He turns his back on Cori once again and resumes practicing his routine.

“He can’t give you what I can give you.”

“Whatever it is you think you’re giving, I don’t want it,” Dream says with finality. He doesn’t react to anymore taunts and insults Cori throws his way, until the man gives up on trying to get a reaction out of him and leaves.

The moment the door shuts behind Cori, Dream drops to his knees, exhausted mentally rather than physically. He lies on his back on the ice, staring at the ceiling.

He doesn’t know how many minutes pass like that.

When he hears the door open again, his hackles rise immediately. “Which part of ‘fuck off’ did you not understand,” he growls.

There’s a silent pause. Then he hears Hob’s voice say: “Er, sorry, I will leave if you want me to.”

Dream quickly sits up. “No. I…you can stay. I thought you were someone else.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Hob joins him on the ice rink. He’s not wearing skates, slide-stepping on the ice towards Dream. Dream cannot help but compare it to Cori’s approach. Cori would never risk his own dignity by trying to get to him on the slippery surface. Hob doesn’t hesitate to join Dream on his playground, letting Dream have the advantage of being on skates - Dream could leave in an instant if he wanted to, and Hob wouldn’t be able to catch up with him.

But then again, Hob must feel at home on the ice just as much as Dream does.

When Hob gets to him, he frowns at Dream who’s still sitting on the ice, making no attempt to get up. “Are you alright? Did you fall? Are you hurt?”

He kneels down by Dream’s side.

Dream sighs, flopping back onto his back. “No, no and no.”

“Ah. Well, may I join you?”

Dream shrugs.

Hob lies down next to him and they stare at the ceiling in companionable silence.

“I’m picturing the ceiling painted like a night sky speckled with stars, Van Gogh style, maybe? Wouldn’t it be beautiful?” Hob says.

Dream looks at the man’s profile, baffled and amused. “This is a sport’s rink, not an art gallery.”

Hob shrugs. “I just think it would look cool.”

Dream sighs. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?” Hob asks, turning his head to face Dream.

“Keep your unwavering optimism.”

Hob smiles. “Ah, well. I get up in the morning and I decide it’s going to be a lovely day, I am going to meet lovely people and experience something new. I feel very lucky that I get to do things that I love. And there’s so much beauty in the world, waiting to be seen.”

Dream frowns at the ceiling. His voice is but a whisper when he says: “I have to try. So hard. To see it.”

Hob looks at him with concern. “You find skating beautiful, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then, doesn’t that make you happy? Don’t you feel lucky you get to do something you love everyday? That you have something to look forward to?”

“….I suppose.”

“And isn’t that beautiful?”

Dream looks at Hob, he looks into his big brown eyes that whisper promises of warmth and shelter and succor, promises of a bright happy future.

He lets himself believe in it if just for a moment.

“Perhaps. Perhaps it is beautiful.”

They don’t address the elephant in the room - the knowledge that by the end of the semester, only one of them will get to continue pursuing his dreams, surrounded by friends and family - by the community they found here. Building on the foundations they’ve laid down in this town.

The other one will have to give up on those dreams.

Or leave.

[habken]

Oh are we watching hockey now?

We’ve Been watching hockey

[alchemistc]

i wanna start out by saying ive been patiently waiting for a hockey AU on the bucktommy fandom and your Goon fic is everything i have ever wanted, im honestly obsessed with your characterization of tommy

i have never been that big on rpf in the hockey fandom, but i always love reading people write crosby in their hockey aus, also love how you include Hockey Lore TM in the story

so, i wanted your take on the insane 'tradition' (not really tradition, more of a common occurrence) of players playing through injuries specially in the playoffs (I remember that in the 2016 or 2017 cup run, there was more players currently injured on the penguins than not, pretty sure Letang or Daley had like, broken fingers for most of the last round) and how many times Buck had to run away from Hen so he could play, because if anyone is more likely to play through injuries, i'd say is Evan "i-had-another-surgery-instead-of-waiting-for-my-leg-crush-injury-to-heal-naturally" Buckley, or Evan "I-sued-my-job-because-they-wouldnt-let-me-do-said-job-after-said-leg-crush-injury-and-vomitting-blood" Buckley

Thank you thank you! Goon has been so much fun to craft, and I'm loving seeing the hockey fans and the 'what's a chiclet' 9-1-1 fans alike enjoy it!

Personally? I hate it. I think the whole idea of it is fucking insane and detrimental to not only their physical health but their mental health as well. (From the Avs fan perspective, regardless of what we actually know about the Nichushkin situation, the man broke his foot and played through it, likely got addicted to a painkiller in the recovery process, missed a playoff series because of [redacted], had a career fucking year and then sent himself to the Players Assistance Program, came back, had MORE career highlights, and then...failed a drug test in the run up to the playoffs and got himself suspended.

(Another reason players just play through injury and mental health crisis is the Players Assistance Program, which IS ANOTHER MAJOR FAILING OF HOCKEY CULTURE IN GENERAL)

Hell, Landy played through a not-healed-injury after he took Cale's skate to his knee and now he's had two surgeries and may never make another appearance in a game because of it.

(I can't think of the player at the moment, but I remember a cup run where a player was playing with fractured ribs and it was later revealed that if he'd taken a puck or a nasty hit or gone into the boards wrong there was a chance he'd have had a vital organ punctured and likely wouldn't have known the extent of the damage until he'd collapsed from internal bleeding. It didn't happen, but WHAT THE FUCK)

And fans have a tendency to glorify them as gods for 'fighting through the pain' in their quest for the Cup.

As far as Goon goes:

They're all gonna be playing through injury. SInce this is from Tommy's perspective, he's coming at it from two angles - he's the guy who's played through injury his whole career just to keep a spot in the lineup, he's toughed it out and dealt with the numbing agents and the wraps and the twinge that doesn't go away for weeks at a time (and the aforementioned pain killers that eventually prompted him to go to fucking therapy in the first place). He is also the guy who has spent four years unpacking why exactly he did that - how much of it is the culture, how much of it is his own shit and his dad telling him to rub some dirt in it and stop being a pussy, how much of it has just been to prove himself capable of being one of the guys in the room.

There's also Hen, who pushes harder than the other trainers, and calls out the bullshit when she sees it, so yeah, this team probably has a slightly better track record of keeping the guy out with upper body injury out of the lineup for longer than any other team would, but - Buck's not the only one who's learned how to lie about exactly how much pain he's in and how well his recovery is going. He'll strain shit and refuse to admit it, he'll push through on a 'minor' injury unless he thinks playing on it would threaten his career. (He absolutely has NO real concept of how bad an injury actually is, tbh, because like everyone else he's been lying about it for so long he doesn't have an accurate pain scale.)

The tldr of this is that I don't condone it, but the reality is it's so ingrained in kids coming up that it's a reality of the culture and I'm not necessarily gonna shy away from that. It's not a huge focus of the story, but there will be hints here and there.