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lee-laurent · 20 days

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Say Something Stupid like 'I love you' - Nico Hischier

Summary: nico has a past with the new devils intern. and she's bringing a surprise along with her

Content: one-night stands, angst, mentions of sex but no smut, pregnancy, drinking, mentions of gaslighting and manipulation

wc: 6.3k

notes: i'm reallyyyyyy trying to get over my writer's block. here's a nico fic! for all the nico girlies out there. i feel like it ended kind of abruptly but i was struggling at the end. so... enjoy

The bar was louder than Jean preferred, but it was her friend's birthday, so she didn't complain. She let the bass-heavy music shake her bones as she leaned on the counter, waiting for their drinks. Around her, groups of friends and clusters of strangers laughed and shouted over the noise, celebrating as though they had no care in the world. Jean might've felt the same, except that wasn't really her scene. She took a deep breath, checking her phone for any texts from her friend.

"Not a fan of crowded bars?"

Jean glanced up to see a guy standing beside her, a faint smirk on his lips. He had dark, tousled hair and warm brown eyes that made her think of autumn leaves. His accent, subtle but noticeable, made her pause.

"No, not really," she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "But it's my friend's birthday, so... here I am."

He nodded, his smile widening slightly. "I get that. I'm Nico, by the way."

"Jean," she offered, surprised at how easily her name rolled off her tongue. Usually, she wasn't so quick to engage with strangers, but there was something disarming about Nico's presence.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the chaos of the bar swirling around them. Jean glanced over at him, taking in his relaxed posture and the way he casually leaned against the counter, as though he was completely at ease in the noise and crowd.

"You don't seem like you're really into this whole scene either," she commented, tilting her head toward him.

Nico laughed softly, his shoulders shaking just slightly. "Not tonight, no. I'm here with some friends, though. We won a big game today, so we're celebrating."

"Oh, hockey?" Jean asked, eyebrows raised.

Nico nodded. "Yeah, hockey."

"I don't really follow it," she admitted, offering a small shrug. Assuming he was just talking about a beer league or something. Surely NHL players didn't hang around in bars like this one. "But congrats on the win."

"Thanks," he said, his eyes lighting up just a little at her words. "It was a good one."

The drinks finally arrived, and Jean handed the bartender a twenty before grabbing the glasses. She turned to Nico, feeling like she should say something else, but not sure what.

"Thanks for chatting. Good luck with your next game."

Nico's smirk returned, and he tilited his head slightly. "Don't you think we should make a toast first?"

Jean blinked. "A toast?"

"Yeah, to your friend's birthday," his eyes twinkled. "And, I guess, to us both surviving this bar tonight."

Jean couldn't help but laugh. "Alright. Sure, let's make a toast."

They clinked their glasses together, and Jean could feel her cheeks warming, though she wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol or the way Nico looked at her. It was strange-- she had just met him, but something about him felt easy, like they had known each other longer.

"So," Nico said, setting his glass down after the toast, "what do you do when you're not getting dragged to crowded bars."

Jean grinned, leaning against the the bar and taking a sip of her drink. "I'm an intern. Physio stuff. Nothing too exciting, but it should keep me busy."

"Intern?" Nico asked, curious. "For what?"

She hesitated, not wanting to dive too deep into the job she had just started at the bar. "Let's just say it's a temporary gig, but one that's giving me some good experience."

He nodded, respecting her vagueness. "That's cool. Sounds like you're working hard."

They continued talking, conversation coming easily. Nico asked her about everything from her favourite music to what she liked to do in her free time, and Jean found herself laughing more than she expected. For someone who seemed so quiet at first, Nico had a way of drawing her out, making her feel comfortable despite the chaotic environment around them.

After a while, she realized she hadn't even glanced back at her friends. Jean's gaze flickered to the dance floor, where her group was still partying. Her friend wouldn't notice if she took a little longer at the bar, would she?

Nico must've noticed her distraction because he leaned in a little closer, his voice low. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jean replied, meeting his eyes. "Just thinking about how I'm probably gonna get dragged into dancing soon."

"Not a fan of dancing either?"

She grinned. "Not when it's this kind of music."

"I get that," Nico said, his voice soft, almost conspiratorial. "How about we skip the dancing?"

"What do you mean?"

Jean raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Let's get out of here," his tone more serious now. "Go somewhere quieter just the two of us."

For a moment, she hesitated, the noise of the bar fading into the background as she considered his offer. There something undeniably tempting about it--about him. She wasn't usually the type to leave a bar with someone she had just met, but tonight felt different. Nico wasn't pushing or pressuring her, just offering her a way out of the chaos.

"Alright. Let's go."

Sunlight filled the room, the blinds not shut all the way. Jean blinked against the light, her mind fuzzy as she slowly came to her senses. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was--until the unfamiliar surroundings and the warmth of the body next to her brought everything rushing back.

Oh no.

She shifted slightly, careful not to wake him. Nico was still asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. The sheets were tangled around him, and his hair was messy from sleep. He looked peaceful, oblivious to the fact that Jean was internally freaking out.

Last night. The bar. The conversation. The drinks. And then this.

Jean chewed her lip, mentally chastising herself. It wasn't like her to let things go this far with someone she barely knew, but there was something about Nico that had felt so... effortless. And now, here she was, in his bed, trying to figure out how to quietly slip out without making things more awkward than they already were.

She slowly slid out of bed, gathering her clothes from the floor. Her shirt was under his desk chair, and her jeans were halfway across the room. It felt like a scavenger hunt, and she couldn't help but mentally laugh at the situation. She dressed as quietly as possible, pulling on her shoes and grabbing her phone off the nightstand.

As she reached for her jacket, she heard Nico stir behind her. "Jean?"

She froze, cursing internally. Of course he's awake now.

Turning slowly, she forced a small smile. "Hey. Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

Nico rubbed his eyes and propped himself up on his elbow, blinking groggily. "It's alright. You're leaving?"

"Yeah, I've got a... thing I need to get to." Jean slipped her jacket on, her fingers fumbling with the zipper. "Last night was fun, but I really should head out."

There was a pause, and Jean could see Nico trying to process the situation through his sleep-fogged brain. He didn't look hurt or upset, just... tired. "Right. Well, it was nice meeting you."

"Yeah, you too," she nodded.

She wasn't sure what else to say. There was an awkward tension in the air between them, and Jean's only instinct was to leave before it got worse. She opened the door and glanced back at Nico one last time. He gave her a faint smile before lying back down, eyes already closing.

Once she was out of the apartment and into the crisp morning air, Jean took a deep breath. She hadn't intended for things to end like this. Nico had been charming, sure, but she hadn't expected the night to go beyond casual drinks and conversation. And now? Well, she didn't even know if she'd ever see him again--or if she wanted to.

Jean flagged down a taxi, sliding into the backseat as she directed the driver towards her place. As she sat back, she tried to push the whole night out of her mind. She had work to focus on.

By the time she reached her apartment, Jean had almost convinced herself that the night with Nico had been a one-time thing. They'd had fun, shared a few laughs, but now it was over. She didn't expect to see him again, and that was fine. They both got what they wanted out of the night.

As the door clicked shut behind Jean, Nico lay still, staring up at the ceiling. His body felt heavy, not just from alcohol or lack of sleep, but from the quiet, empty feeling that he felt since Jean departed.

He didn't know how to place what had happened. Sure, he'd had hookups in the past but the connection was never as instant as this. It wasn't just the physical attraction--though that was undeniable--but the way she had looked at him, as if she didn't care about who he was or the life he led. It was refreshing.

But now she was gone, and Nico was left with the unsettling sense that he'd let something slip through his fingers without even fully understanding what it was.

He pushed himself out of bed and headed for the shower, hoping the hot water would help clear his head. As the steam rose around him, Nico replayed the events of the night in his mind-- the drinks, the conversation... the way her body felt against his. Jean had been different, not like the people he met in his usual social circle.

But maybe it was better that she'd left. His life was complicated enough as it was, with the team, the pressure of being captain, and the constant judgement from the media and fans. He didn't have time to worry about someone he barely knew.

Yet, as he got dressed and prepared for the day, Nico couldn't shake the feeling that he hadn't seen the last of Jean. Something told him their paths would cross again--whether he was ready for it or not.

Jean checked her reflection in the mirrored wall of the gym, adjusting her jacket and pulling her curly hair into a mostly-tamed ponytail. Today was her first official day as a physiotherapy intern with the New Jersey Devils, and nerves were starting to bubble in her chest. She had landed the position after months of hard work and interviews, and now it was time to prove herself.

Taking a deep breath, Jean grabbed her clipboard and headed toward the rink. She had been excited about this internship since day one. Despite knowing nothing about hockey before landing the role, she had done her research on how the game was played (but not the players...) and she was ready to work alongside some of the best athletes in the league. Her goal was clear--make a good impression, learn as much as she could, make connections, and avoid all unnecessary drama.

She stepped into the rink, the cool air making her shiver in comparison to the warm gym. The team was already out on the ice, practicing drills and shooting pucks. Jean watched them skate for a moment, her eyes following the blur of players weaving in and out of drills with expert precision. Even though she wasn't a hockey fan, she couldn't help but be impressed by their skill and athleticism.

"Hey, you must be Jean, the new intern?" A friendly voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

Jean turned to see a woman in a Devils polo approaching, smiling warmly. "I'm Sarah. I'll be showing you around today."

"Yeah, that's me," Jean replied, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm excited to get started."

Sarah led Jean to the bench, explaining some of the basic protocols and introducing her to the trainers she'd be working with. Jean did her best to absorb everything, nodding along and taking mental notes. She was ready to dive into her duties, determined to make a good first impression.

"So, you'll be working with some of the players on rehab and maintenance," Sarah said. "It can get busy, especially after games, but the guys are great. Just be prepared for anything--they're a competitive bunch."

"Got it. Thanks for the heads-up."

As they continued talking, the sound of skates scraping the ice grew louder. The practice was winding down, and players were making their way off the rink, their skates clattering against the floor as they moved toward the locker room. Jean watched as they passed by, mentally trying to match faces to the names she'd heard around.

And then, her stomach dropped.

Because walking toward her, wiping sweat from his brow and looking just as surprised as she felt, was Nico.

Oh my god. Of all people.

Jean wanted to die as they locked eyes. She hadn't recognized him the night they met at the bar, and she doubted he had mentioned being the captain of a professional hockey team during the brief conversation. Now, standing just a few feet away, it all clicked into place. Nico wasn't just some guy from the bar--he was Nico Hischier, captain of New Jersey Devils, and her new client.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The shock on Nico's face mirrored her own. Jean quickly tore her eyes away, focusing intently on the clipboard in her hands, pretending to check something, anything, to avoid his gaze.

Sarah, oblivious to the silent standoff, continued her tour, explaining the rest of the setup. Jean nodded along, silently replaying the events of that night with a new clarity. She hadn't known Nico was part of the team, and judging by his expression, he hadn't known she'd end up here either.

"Jean," Sarah said, pulling her back to the present. "This is Nico, the team captain. Nico, this is Jean, our new physiotherapy intern. You'll probably be working together quite a bit."

Oh no.

Jean smiled stiffly, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. "Nice to meet you," she managed, forcing the words out as she looked up at him.

Nico gave a slow nod, "Yeah. Nice to meet you too."

The way he said it--cool, calm, but with a twinge of something else--sent a shiver down Jean's spine. There was a tension there, one she wasn't sure how to navigate. They had shared a night together, but now, under these circumstances, it felt like that connection was suddenly loaded with a meaning neither of them had signed up for.

"Alright, let's head to the training room," Sarah continued, still unaware of the awkwardness. "We'll get you set up for your first session."

Jean followed Sarah, she could feel Nico's eyes on her as they walked away, and she couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. She hadn't expected to see him again, much less like this.

Nico couldn't believe it. Jean? Here? He hadn't even thought about her since the morning she left his apartment, figuring it was a one-time thing. But now she was here, working with the team? As a physiotherapy intern, no less?

Part of him wanted to confront her right then and there, to demand to know why she hadn't mentioned anything about working for the Devils. But another part--the part that was still processing everything--told him to stay quiet.

He shook his head in frustration. He couldn't shake the feeling that she had kept something from him, that she'd known all along who he was. Maybe that's why she hadn't mentioned much about work during their conversation. It made sense now--why else would she have ended up here, of all places?

Nico grabbed his gear and headed to the locker room, his thoughts still spinning. He didn't know what Jean's game was, but whatever it was, he wasn't about to play along. He had enough on his plate already, and the last thing he needed in his life was more drama.

As soon as Jean entered the training room, she leaned against the counter, trying to steady her breathing. This couldn't be happening. Not only had she slept with one of the team's most important players, but that player also happened to be her new boss, in a way. She could barely wrap her head around it.

How was she supposed to work with Nico now? There was no way he wasn't upset about this, judging by the way he'd looked at her. He probably thought she'd planned this, that she'd known who he was all along.

The last thing she wanted was for Nico to think she had some ulterior motive. That night had been spontaneous--she hadn't even known what position he played, let alone that he was the captain of the Devils. Now she'd have to navigate the situation without letting it affect her job. Easier said than done.

The next few days passed in a blur. Jean had tried her best to keep things professional, focusing on her duties as an intern, but every time Nico was in the room, the air felt heavier, like there was someone sitting on both of their chests.

She had avoided making eye contact with him as much as possible, always redirecting her focus to other players or her clipboard when he walked into the room. The last thing she needed was to stir up any drama in her first week there.

But ignoring Nico wasn't easy.

Every time he came into the training room for his post-practice treatments, she felt his presence like a magnet. The tension between them wasn't just awkward--it was unbearable. Her body would go stiff, her words would fumble, and she'd feel her heart race like it had that night at the bar. Except now, it wasn't excitement that caused her pulse to speed up; it was anxiety.

Jean was doing a decent job of keeping her distance, but eventually that plan went out the window.

It had been a long practice. The players filed into the training room, exhausted, sweaty, and in need of ice baths, massages, and whatever treatments the physio team could offer. As Jean worked on helping a player stretch, she noticed Nico walking in, catching her off guard.

She refocused, pretending she didn't see him, but her concentration shattered when she heard a voice nearby.

"Jean."

The tone was clipped, almost cold.

Her heart dropped to her stomach. She turned slowly, meeting Nico's eyes, which were hard and unreadable. He was standing just a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest, looking like he was barely holding back his frustration.

"Can we talk?"

She knew exactly what he wanted to talk about.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Jean replied, her throat dry as she nodded toward the back of the room. "Let's step over here."

She could feel the eyes of a few players on her as she walked past, but she kept her head down, not wanting to make the situation more public than it already felt. They stepped into the small office space at the back of the training room, and Jean could feel how heavy the air was as she clicked the door shut.

Nico crossed his arms again, leaning against the desk as his gaze bore into her. "Why didn't you tell me you worked here?"

Jean blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of the question. "I--I didn't know. I mean, I didn't know you were on the team when we..."

She trailed off, realizing how difficult it was to even say it out loud.

Nico's eyes narrowed. "So, you're telling me you just happened to hook up with the captain of the Devils a few days before starting an internship here? You expect me to believe that was just a coincidence?"

Jean felt her frustration bubble up. "It was a coincidence. I didn't even know who you were, Nico. My friend dragged me to the bar that night. I didn't know a thing about hockey, let alone that you were a professional player."

Nico shook his head, his jaw clenching. "It just seems pretty convenient, don't you think?"

"Convenient?" Jean's voice rose slightly, her pulse quickening. "Nico, I'm here to do my job. I got this internship on my own merit. I didn't come here for you."

He stood there, silent, and she could see the gears turning in his head. His arms uncrossed, his expression softening slightly. "I just... it feels like you kept something from me."

"I didn't keep anything from you. I didn't know. If I had, I probably wouldn't have even..." She stopped herself, realizing she was about to say too much. "Look, I'm here for work, okay? Whatever happened between us that night was just that--one night. Can we not make this a bigger deal than it is?"

He wanted to believe her--she could see that--but something was holding him back.

Jean waited for him to say something, but when he didn't, she sighed and moved back towards the door. "I'm going to get back into work. We don't have to do this every time we're in the same room."

She opened the door, but just before stepping out, she heard Nico speak again, his voice softer this time. "Jean."

She paused but didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

Jean closed her eyes for a moment, letting his words sink in. Then, without another word, she left the room.

Nico sat down on the bench after she left, his head in his hands. Damn it. He hadn't meant to sound so accusatory, but the whole situation was messing with his head. He'd assumed he'd never see her again, as fun as their night was.

But now here she was, working with the team, and it felt like everything had turned upside down.

He wanted to believe her. Wanted to believe that she didn't know who he was, that their meeting was just some random chance. But his gut was telling him otherwise. Years in the spotlight had made him suspicious of people's motives, and it was hard to shake that feeling.

But what now? Could they really just go back to pretending that night hadn't happened? And even if they did, could he ignore the way he felt every time she was in the same room as him?

He groaned, rubbing his temples. This wasn't what he needed right now. With the season in full swing and the pressure mounting, the last thing he wanted was a distraction--especially one in the form of a 5'4" physio intern.

Jean leaned against the wall outside the training room. She didn't know what Nico expected from her. She had been honest--she hadn't known who he was, and she certainly hadn't planned for their lives to tangle like this. But it seemed like no matter what she said, Nico would still have that doubt hanging over him.

This internship was her chance to prove herself, to build a career for herself in sports therapy, and she was not going to let a one-night stand ruin that. But how could she work in this environment with Nico constantly questioning her motives?

She pushed herself off the wall, straightening her jacket. She would handle this like a professional--keep her head down, do her job, and avoid any more drama with Nico.

It had been a few weeks since her confrontation with Nico, and things had settled into an uneasy rhythm. Jean still managing to avoid him as much as possible, focused on her work and trying to put everything else behind her. They kept their distance.

But lately, Jean hadn't been feeling like herself. She was exhausted all the time, her appetite was off, and every morning, a wave of nausea seemed to hit her the second she got out of bed. At first, she chalked it up to stress--between dealing with Nico and trying to prove herself at work, it made sense that her body was a bit upset with her.

Then she realized her period was late. Very late.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Jean stared at the calendar app on her phone, counting the days. The realization hit her like a truck.

No. There was no way.

Her hands shook as she tossed her phone aside and quickly got dressed. There was no sense in waiting. Either she was pregnant or she wasn't. There was no inbetween here.

The drugstore was a blur, her heart in her throat as she made her way down the aisle, grabbing a pregnancy test off the shelf and heading straight to a cash register. The cashier rang her up without a word, and before she knew it, she was back in her apartment, staring at the small box like it was a ticking time bomb.

She took a long, deep breath, ripping the box open and reading the instructions, though she didn't really need to. She already knew how it worked. She just didn't want to face the possibility of what those two little lines might mean.

A few minutes later, she sat on the floor of her bathroom, the test clutched in her hands. The seconds felt like hours as she waited for the result, her heart pounding in her ears.

Finally, she looked down.

Two lines. Positive.

She forgot how to breathe, the room seeming to tilt around her. She blinked, staring at the test in disbelief. Pregnant. She was pregnant.

This couldn't be happening. She wasn't ready for this--she had just started her career, barely knew what she was doing, and now... this? And then, as if on cue, another thought pushed its way through: Nico.

Oh my god. Nico.

She hadn't seen much of him lately, but there was no escaping this. He had to know. It wasn't just her life that was about to change--it was his, too.

Jean sat there for a long minute, staring blankly at the test, trying to process the new information. She knew what she would have to do. She had to tell Nico. There was no way around it.

Or she could just flee the country and--

No, she had to tell Nico.

Jean found herself standing outside the locker room after practice, her heart racing as she clutched the little plastic stick in her bag. She had rehearsed the conversation in her head a thousand times, but now that she was there, the words seemed to vanish.

The door swung open, and she saw Nico walking out, towel slung around his neck, still dripping from the shower. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her standing there, his expression unreadable.

"Jean." His voice was cautious, and she could clearly make out the hestitation in his eyes. Neither of them had spoken much since their argument, but now, the tension felt even thicker than before.

"I need to talk to you."

He nodded slowly, stepping aside to let her in. He led her down the hall to a more private corner, where the noise of the players faded away. Jean took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag as she tried to find the right words.

"Nico," she started, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to stay calm. "I didn't want to have this conversation like this, but... there's something you need to know."

Nico's postured stiffened, his brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Jean swallowed hard and reached into her bag, pulling out the test. She held it up, her heart rattling her bones. "I'm pregnant."

For a second, Nico just stared at her, his eyes widening as he registered what she'd just said. He looked at the test in her hand, then back at her face, as if waiting for her to tell him it was a joke.

But it wasn't.

"You're... what?" His voice was low, disbelieving, as if he couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

"I'm pregnant," she repeated, her throat tightening as she said the words out loud. "And it's yours."

Nico took a step back, running a hand through his damp hair, his expression changing every second. "How? I mean... we were careful. Right?"

Jean shook her head, feeling a lump form in her throat. "I thought so too, but... things happen. Condoms break. And now..." She trailed off, not sure what else to say. The truth was staring them both in the face, and there was no avoiding it.

Nico let out a sharp breath, "So, what now? You expect me to just... what, drop everything and deal with this?"

"No, Nico. I'm not asking for anything. I just thought you had a right to know."

His voice rose, "Right to know? You drop this on me and think it's just about telling me? Jean, this changes everything. I--"

He stopped himself, running his hands over his face as if he was trying to keep his emotions in check. When he looked over at her again, his eyes were filled with something darker, something that made Jean's stomach twist with dread.

"Did you do this on purpose?" he asked, his voice quieter, but no less harsh.

"What? No! How could you even think that?"

"I don't know," Nico snapped. "But this whole thing... it just feels off. You show up here, you get this job, and now, suddenly, you're pregnant? It's too much of a coincidence."

"You think I planned this? That I wanted to trap you or something?"

"I don't know, Jean," he shook his head. "But you have to admit, this timing is--"

"Don't," Jean cut him off, her voice trembling with emotion. "Don't accuse me of something like that. I didn't plan this, and I certainly didn't expect this to happen. Do you think I want to be in this position? Do you think I'm thrilled about this? Because I'm not."

Nico stared at her, his jaw clenched tight, but he didn't say anything. The silence between them was thick and heavy, filled with everything they weren't saying, and everything they were too afraid to admit.

"I came to you because I thought you deserved to know," she continued. "But if you can't even trust me enough to believe this wasn't some scheme, then maybe this was a mistake."

Nico opened his mouth to say something, but Jean didn't give him a chance. She shook her head, turning on her heel and walking out of the locker room before the tears she had been holding back could fall.

He stood there, frozen, as she walked out. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind still processing the news.

Pregnant. She was pregnant.

And it was his.

He sank onto the bench, running a hand through his hair, his breath coming in short bursts. This wasn't how he expected his life to go. He wasn't ready for this--hell, he didn't even know how to process it. But Jean... her words echoed in his head, over and over again.

I didn't plan this. I certainly didn't expect this to happen.

He wanted to believe her. He really did. But his trust had been shaken too many times before, and now, with this bombshell, he didn't know how to handle it. He wasn't ready to be a father. He wasn't ready for the responsibility that came with that. But ready or not, this was happening. And no matter how confused or scared he was, he had to figure out how to deal with it. Because whatever he was feeling, Jean was feeling 100 times worse.

The days after her confrontation with Nico were a blur for Jean. She threw herself into her work, doing her best to push the pregnancy--and Nico's harsh words--out of her mind. But it wasn't easy. Every morning brought a fresh wave of vomitting and a reminder of the reality she was living.

She was pregnant. And Nico's reaction had shattered whatever fragile understanding they had left.

Her body was feeling the effects, and every small change was another punch to the face. She was on her own now, and it terrified her. She had spent sleepless nights wondering if Nico would come around or if she would have to face this all on her own.

But how could he accuse her of something so cruel? After everything, he thought she'd tried to trap him, as if she was that kind of person. The more she thought about it, the more it hurt.

And yet, despite everything, part of her still wanted to reach out. To hear him say he didn't mean it. But the silence between them stretched on, and Jean knew better than to hope for an apology that might never come.

Nico hadn't been himself since Jean dropped the news. He tried to focus on hockey, tried to throw himself into practice and games, but it wasn't working. His mind was always somewhere else, replaying Jean showing him the test.

He had fucked up. He knew it.

After Jean had walked out, he had sat there for what felt like hours, going over everything in his head. The way she looked at him when she told him she was pregnant--the hurt in her voice when he accused her of trapping him. And the worst part? He knew she was telling the truth. Deep down, he knew she hadn’t planned any of this.

But his fear had gotten the better of him. The weight of his responsibilities as team captain, his career, his life in the public eye--it had all come crashing down the moment Jean told him she was pregnant, and instead of handling it with maturity, he had lashed out.

He had always been guarded, always cautious about letting people in. Too many times, he'd been burned by people that only cared about his status. But Jean wasn't like that. She hadn't even known who he was when they met. She hadn't wanted anything from him--at least, not until now.

Now, she was carrying his child, and instead of being there for her, he had accused her of manipulating him.

"You're an idiot, Hischier," he mumbled to himself as he sat alone in the locker room after practice. He didn't know how to fix this, but he knew he had to do something. He couldn't leave things like this--not with Jean, and not with the baby.

He wasn't ready to be a father. Hell, he didn't even know where to begin. But ready or not, this was happening, and he couldn't just shut it out and walk away from it.

Taking a deep breath, Nico pulled out his phone and stared at Jean's name in his contacts. She'd given it to all the players in case they ever needed to schedule a last minute appointment. His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before he finally worked up the courage to send a message.

Can we talk?

Jean was in the middle of finishing up a session with Dawson when her phone buzzed. She glanced down, considering ignoring it when she saw Nico's name. Wanting him to feel the way she did when she first found out. But her curiousity--and the small part of her that still thought he'd apologize--won out.

She opened the message, reading his simple yet heavy request. She sighed, weighing her options. Part of her wanted to tell him no, to make him feel the rejection she had been feeling. But she wasn't that kind of person, and this wasn't just about her anymore. She had to do what was best for her baby.

Ok. When?

His response was immediate. After practice tomorrow. I'll meet you at the training room.

She wasn't sure what to expect from this conversation, but she had to find out where they stood. She had to know if he was going to step up or leave this for her to manage on her own.

Jean didn't really want to have this conversation, but she knew she had to. She had felt angry, hurt, and confused for days now. Whatever happened next, she knew she had to handle it.

Nico arrived after a few minutes, looking as tired and conflicted as she was. His eyes met hers, but neither of them spoke. Everything felt heavy and uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," Nico blurted out. "For what I said. For how I reacted."

Jean just blinked, caught off guard by his apology. She hadn't expected one to come at all, let alone this quickly.

"I was scared. I freaked out. I'm not proud of it, but I did. This wasn't something I had ever imagined happening to me, and I... I didn't handle it well.

She nodded slowly, listening to everything he had to say. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, the guilt that had been eating at him. But it didn't erase the pain of what he'd said before.

"I didn't want to hurt you. And I didn't mean what I said. I don't think you trapped me. I don't think you planned this."

"You really hurt me, Nico. I didn't ask for this either. I wasn't trying to ruin your life or mess with your career. I was just as shocked as you were."

"I know. I know that now. And I'm sorry. I've been a fucking idiot."

"What happens now?"

Nico rubbed the back of his neck, "I don't know. But I do know that I'm not going to walk away from this. From you. I... I'm scared, Jean. I've never been this scared in my life. I don't know what I'm doing. But I want to figure it out. I want to be there."

Jean felt some relief wash over her, but she wasn't ready to let go of all her reservations quite yet. "You don't have to have all the answers right now, Nico. But I need to know you're going to be there. For me and for our baby."

"I will. I promise."

There was still so much they had to figure out, so many challenges ahead, but at least they were on the same page. At least now, they were facing everything together.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #njd imagine #nico hischier

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annieqattheperipheral · 2 months

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HER STORY IS INCREDIBLE EVERYONE SIT DOWN AND LEARN FROM THIS QUEEN ⤵️

Kiana Scott, who played minor hockey system for 11 seasons, including four seasons on boys teams, gravitated to scouting from watching her brother’s games and critiquing his strengths and weaknesses.

Unaware of jobs available in hockey, she enrolled in makeup artistry college after high school, but knew her heart was in the sport.

She eventually enrolled in an online hockey general manager scouting course.

Scott joined the International Scouting Service Hockey mentorship program in 2018 and scouted for the service for two years while holding down two jobs.

“I love scouting future prospects, and the evaluation process,” she said. “I think that's kind of where my passion lies. It's just the evaluation process. And it's exciting, building a team.”

Scott spent two seasons as a full-time scout for Erie before she took a bold step and left the organization to move to Calgary and became an independent scout in June 2022.

“I just kept practicing my craft and kind of paid my own way, like, throughout the whole year,” she said. “All of the tickets to every game, all of my travel expenses, everything. I just put all my money into scouting and trying to evolve and then I ended up getting my (Avalanche) internship the next year.”

Scott had some financial help from her family for the move and she supplemented her income by working as a bartender at a Calgary casino, a job with hours that allowed her to scout games.

If all that wasn’t enough, she also enrolled in the University of Florida’s online sports management program.

“I've always had the mindset to just keep betting on myself and working hard and evolving,” she said. “I think I've taken a lot of risks to get to where I am, but I wouldn't try to change the journey for anything.”

Scott said she hopes women, women of color and people who don’t come from a so-called “traditional” hockey background will follow her on the journey.

“I grew up playing hockey, but I didn’t play professional hockey, I didn’t go to college or university for hockey,” she said. “I just had a passion for it. I love scouting. I worked at it, and I continue working at my craft.

“People that don’t necessarily come from the traditional background, I hope they see themselves in me and believe that they can put their minds to it and get it done.”

-----

The 2024 NHL Draft was as eventful for Kiana Scott as it was for the players who were selected in the seven-round event at Sphere in Las Vegas last month.

The 25-year-old Barrie, Ontario, native signed with the Colorado Avalanche at the draft to become a full-time amateur scout, fulfilling a goal she has had since she was a teenager.

“This is something that I've worked really hard for my whole career to be able to sign my first NHL contract,” Scott said. “I was elated. The Avs have been really good for me the past year, and I’m excited to keep building with them.”

Scott joined the Avalanche after working as an intern for the organization.

Colorado general manager Chris MacFarland said he and executive director of hockey operations Suzanne Borchert “were impressed with her work ethic and her passion."

MacFarland said: “Kiana was on our radar when she was scouting in major junior circuits ... and it worked that a few years ago we had an internship opportunity for her.

“She did a good job in that role and was an integral part of our amateur scouting department. We’re excited to see her contributions moving forward in her full-time role as an amateur scout.”

-----

Scott made history when she became the first woman scout in the Ontario Hockey League with Erie in March 2020.

She was among the initial of a wave of women who were hired in recent years as scouts at all levels of hockey, including Cammi Granato (Seattle Kraken), Blake Bolden (Los Angeles Kings), Krissy Wendell-Pohl (Pittsburgh Penguins), Meghan Hunter (Chicago Blackhawks), Gabriella Switaj (Anaheim Ducks) and Brigette Lacquette (Chicago Blackhawks).

Granato moved on from Seattle to become an assistant general manager for the Vancouver Canucks on Feb. 10, 2022, and Hunter was promoted to assistant GM by the Blackhawks on June 22, 2022.

“When I first started scouting, I didn’t know of any women in the industry already,” she said. “Cammi Granato got her job with the NHL a year after I started scouting. That’s when I kind of knew it was possible. But I never had anyone to look up to. I just had this dream and the passion for hockey. I knew that I had to the talent and skill to do it, and to try to keep building on them.

"That’s what I’ve always gone off on -- keep evolving, never give up on what you love.”

#kiana scott #colorado avalanche #nhl #erie otters #ohl #hockeyblr #women in hockey #diversity in hockey #minorities in hockey

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topguncortez · 5 months

Text

Slap Shot || Chapter 2

A Top Gun Hockey AU

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: Jake heads to his last game before his suspension and hears the speculated news right from the source. Sonny attends her first Dagger hockey game since getting the job.

word count: 4.9k

warnings: grief, mentions of sexism, injuries, losing a parent, locker room talk, hockey inaccuracies, mentions of cheating, workplace harassment, use of the word "puck bunny", mentions of sex

note: I have a graduation/summer celebration going on! help me get back into the writing groove by requesting something or sending in an ask!

There was something about the electricity in the air on game day. The anticipation, the anxiety, the stress, the crowds lining the block hours before the puck drops. It was all things that Jake had grown to love ever since he got up to the big leagues. He could remember the day of his first NHL game, there was a lot riding on his shoulders as the first round draft pick to a team that hadn’t even had a playoff berth in the new century. The line of fans was around the building and down the block, fangirls screaming and pointing at Jake’s truck as he pulled up to North Island Arena, or the Hard Deck, as some fans called it.

And even years later, the excitement was still there. The crowds were still around the building and down the block. And the fangirls still screamed and pointed at his truck as he pulled into the underground garage at the Hard Deck. Jake parked his truck in the same spot, right next to defenseman Bradley Bradshaw’s shiny blue bronco.

Jake straightened out his gray suit, a custom made gift from one of the various sponsors he had gained over the years. Aside from being one of the best hockey players, Jake Seresin was also the “pretty boy” of the NHL. And he wore that title with a badge of honor.

Making his way inside the Hard Deck, he sent a wink to the young social media intern who was in charge of filming the players as they walked inside. He couldn’t remember her name, but he remembered that one trick she could do with her tongue that had his head spinning.

“Looking good. . .” He nodded towards her, and watched as she nearly fainted from his acknowledgement.

The locker room was practically empty as Jake walked to his locker, stripping from his suit, and changing into his warm up clothes. He liked to be the first one to the arena, he liked to sit in the quiet locker room, and go over his plays in his head before it was filled with the sounds of his teammates getting ready for their game. Jake wouldn’t say he was superstitious and had precious pre-game rituals, but he had some things he liked to do before every game.

“Thought you weren’t playing,” A voice broke him out of his trance. He lifted his head to see his teammate, Michael Hendersob, standing in the doorway. His suit had long been shucked off, a pair of black shorts and a blue North Island sweatshirt on his body.

“Last game for a while,” Jake gave him a half smile, “Apparently, fighting your teammates is frowned upon.”

“So is sleeping with the coach’s wife.”

Jake scoffed, looking down at his feet, “I didn’t sleep with her. If anything, she threw herself at me. What was I supposed to do?”

Henderson rolled his eyes, grabbing some tape to work on his sticks for the game, “I don’t know man, walk away? Say no thanks?”

“I can’t leave a wanting lady unsatisfied,” Jake smirked and Henderson huffed. It was quiet for a moment, as Jake looked at the stick in his lap, before he spoke up, “Rumor mill says you signed for an apartment in the Villages.”

Henderson chuckled, “Yeah, a beautiful three bedroom ranch style, right on the beach. Thinking I should get a golf cart and some of those colored loofahs, maybe even a pineapple on the front door.”

“Oh I bet Liv would love that.”

If there was one woman who could make the whole North Island Daggers Hockey Team shudder in fear, it was Liv Henderson. The woman was the definition of the perfect WAG: beautiful, smart, classy, helpful, and strong willed. Liv had opened up her house, having most of the team dinners on Sundays when they could. Liv always joked that she wasn’t just raising three boys, she was raising 26 boys (including her own husband). Jake always jokes around that one day he was going to steal Liv away, but never in a million years would he think of doing that. He saw the way Henderson looked at the girl who was his highschool sweetheart. It made him ache for something like that.

“She’d have my balls in a jar,” Henderson shook his head, both men knowing it was probably true, “But it’s time, man. I’m getting past my prime. I can’t keep up with you young bucks out there on the ice. Besides. . . after everything that happened across the pond. . . I know it was a freak accident, but it scared me. I can’t imagine my wife, my kids, hell, the fans and my team seeing that.”

Jake nodded, knowing exactly what he was alluding to. The freak accident of two players on the ice, leading to one tragically losing their life. When news of the accident traveled, it made Jake feel sick to his stomach. Hockey was a dangerous sport. He’s seen guys skate off holding their teeth in their hands, or clutching their broken noses. Never, in a million years, would he imagine a team would have to hold their friend up as they took him off the ice.

“I plan to be here to watch them grow up, and not spend it trying to fix my scrambled brain,” Henderson spoke, breaking the tension, “Bad enough I got three fake teeth. Liv would come after me if I lost another.”

“It’ll be weird without you,” Jake looked at him.

For as long as Jake has been a fan of hockey, Michael Henderson has been playing. Jake could remember being a kid, going with the U12 USA team to a North Island versus the Flyers game, and waiting down by the tunnel to get his jersey signed by Michael. To be drafted to the same team as him is like a dream come true for Jake. What would’ve made it better is having Russ Hamilton as their coach. Jake knew there would come a day where Henderson would hang up the skates, he just didn’t think it would be this soon.

“You’ll get over it,” Henderson nudged him, and Jake scoffed, “You will. You’ll be sitting in this locker room a year from now and be like ‘damn, I'm sure glad that grandpa is gone’.”

“Never,” Jake feigned hurt, “You are my baby!”

“You’re fucking weird,” Henderson shook his head in laughter, and then cleared his throat, “You know. . . They asked me if I had a recommendation for a captain.” Jake felt his heartbeat pick up in speed, “The first name that came to my mind was yours. And I wanted to say your name so bad. . . but I couldn’t.”

“Why?” Jake felt a mix of anger and sadness that the man he considered one of his close friends and mentors wouldn’t have suggested him for the spot.

“Cause you’re not there yet,” Henderson said, honesty dripping in his voice. If there was one person on the team any of the guys could be honest with, it was Michael Henderson. Man was like a vault, harboring secrets of his teammates, “We all know you are the right man for the job. But you have to prove it. Being a captain is more than just having the skills and the stats. It’s what happens off the ice.”

“Look,” Henderson ran a hand through his hair, “I was your age when I was faced with either getting captain or getting kicked off. Liv and I had broken up and I just. . . I got sucked into the life of being a hockey player. As a captain, you have so many eyes on you. Not just from the coaches and the GMs. . . but the fans, the sports announcers, the kids. . . Being a captain isn’t just about what happens on the ice, it’s also about what happens off the ice,” Henderson sat down next Jake, “You are the man for the position. But you need to get your shit together. Or they’ll pick someone else and you’ll be sent somewhere else.”

Jake looked at his teammate, soaking in every word that he said. Even though there was only a 10 year difference between him and Henderson, he felt like there was more. Henderson spoke to Jake like an encouraging father, one that he wished and envied that his boys had.

“Thanks Hendo,” Jake said sincerely.

“Of course,” Henderson smiled, “Now, do me a favor. . . Keep the retirement village stuff a secret. Liv still hasn’t picked out the house she wants yet.”

Jake chuckled, slapping his captain’s shoulder, “Secrets safe with me.”

— — —

One part of pre-game that Jake hated, was warming up on the ice in front of fans. Some guys loved it, taking time to smile and pose for pictures and toss pucks over the glass. Jake hated it because it distracted him. The bright signs, the fans pounding on the glass, the blasting music and lights flashing around. Jake just wanted to put his headphones on and ignore the social media girl who held her work phone right in front of his face as he stretched out on the ice. He just knew that his friends and family are going to bombard him with links to the latest thirst trap of him stretching.

The guys skated around on the ice, passing pucks to one another and serving them to Bob Floyd, their goalie. When Bob first joined the team, Jake didn’t think he had what it took to be an NHL goalie. He was scrawny, and lanky, and looked like he weighed less than his pads. But after he had a game winning save against the Devils and nearly started a fight himself, Jake was suddenly Team Bob Floyd.

Jake quietly ran through the roster of the guys, checking them off one by one as they skated by, noticing that one was still missing. Jake was about to shout at Henderson asking where Holloway was, when the player in question skated out on the ice, a bubble now attached to his helmet. A prominent cut was still across his nose as bruising grew under his eye sockets. Jake couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips as Holloway skated right by him.

“Something funny, Seresin?” Holloway asked.

Jake just shrugged, “Oh nothing, bubble boy,” He stood from where he was kneeling on the ice, “Maybe next time. . . start a fight you can win.”

Holloway glared daggers into Jake’s back as he skated over to a bunch of awaiting blondes hoping for a chance to get a puck from the star player.

— — —

There was a chill in the arena as you walked through the door, being escorted by some intern to the box that Pete and Tom had invited you to. You knew this stadium like the back of your hand, and would have found your way to the box that was named in honor of your father by yourself. Even though your father didn’t spend a lot of time on the Daggers team, he still considered the organization as his family. He told you once that he truly never felt a connection to a team or an area like he did for North Island. It brought a smile to your face as the intern pushed open the door to the box with red letters painted on the frosted glass reading “The Hamilton Box”.

You walked right towards the edge of the box, looking out over the ice as both teams warmed up, skating in circles around each other. The last time you had been in this position, your father was standing next to you, pointing out certain players to keep an eye on and rattling off their stats as if it had been ingrained in his mind, which knowing him. . . it probably was. A strange feeling grew in your belly, it was a mixture of sadness and anger. Sadness that he wasn’t here next to you and anger that cancer had taken him way before his time.

“You miss it?” Tom asked, startling you from your trance of watching the players.

A sheepish smile grew on your face as you looked back at the ice. Only a handful of people knew the truth as to why you walked away from hockey, and Tom was one of those, “Every damn day.”

Tom gave you a warm smile, the type of smile only a dad could give to their child as he slung his arm over your shoulders, “Your dad always spoke so highly of you. Told us you were going to give us a run for our money some day.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered those days where you’d spend hours upon hours at the arena with your dad. Running drills until your body physically couldn’t anymore. Your dad never pushed you hard, it was always something you did on your own and your dad was just a grateful volunteer to be there. Those days seemed like a whole other life compared to what you were living now.

“I haven’t been on the ice like that in years,” You shook your head, looking down at your heels. You could’ve just worn jeans and some sneakers like you would usually wear, but you were still trying to impress your new employer, so dress pants, a deep blue dress shirt and black heels it was, “It wouldn’t even feel the same anymore. Not because of the injury. . . because he’s not here.”

Tom squeezed your shoulders, “You’d be surprised. I gave it up for years and thought the same thing. But sometimes, it feels better than it used to feel.”

You nodded your head as Tom walked over to a group of donors, working the crowd just like you remember him doing. Tom was always the face of the Daggers, your dad always poking fun of him for it. Tom always got the glory while your dad was doing all the guts. You shook your head laughing, looking back towards the ice, rolling your eyes as one of the players stood off to the side, flirting with a group of females.

It seemed as soon as the puck dropped, the Coyotes had already won the game. The Coyotes came in hot, and the Daggers were ice cold as they kept getting out played and out skated. No one seemed to be communicating on the team, simple plays falling apart and dumb goals getting passed Bob. The anger grew in Jake’s body as he got slammed into the boards for probably the 100th time in a row, and it was only the 2nd period. Jake usually thrived when he was behind the net, but his usual tactics were falling apart and he felt like Holloway was leaving him defenseless and open for being used as a punching bag.

Jake shook his head, a loud groan leaving his gritted teeth as he skated out from behind the net, going right up to Holloway, “You just going to sit there with your thumb in your ass and not do anything!?”

Holloway just shrugged, “You seemed like you had it,” If looks could kill, Holloway would be dead as he skated over the blue line.

Jake’s eyes move around the ice, watching the puck as Bradley stole it away from a Coyote player, passing it over to Holloway. Instead of skating back to the net, to get set up for a goal or assist, Jake skated right at Holloway, checking him, sending his teammate flying towards the ground. Jake was quick to juggle the puck before lining up to make a perfect slapshot, sending it soaring past the Coyote goalie. The arena erupted in cheers as the buzzer sounded. Jake smirked as he skated past Holloway, who was getting up from the ice.

“The fuck was that!?” Holloway yelled.

“I had it,” Jake winked. The small movement being broadcasted on the jumbotron for everyone to see, making the crowd go even wilder.

The Hamilton Box erupted in cheers as people high-fived and clinked their drinks together at finally getting on the scoreboard. You could hear Tom’s loud cheering as he pointed down to the ice, the players getting ready for the game to get back and action. You rolled your eyes, all the goal did was put the team on the scoreboard, they were still getting beat 4-1. Your eyes landed on the jumbotron hanging above the center of the ice, the goal and Jake Seresin’s wink to his teammate were being replayed over and over, making your blood heat up. If there was one thing you hated, it was show-offs.

“Not a fan?” Pete asked, noticing the look on your face.

“Not a fan?” You asked, eyebrow raised, and nodded your head towards the replay still being shown, “Not a fan is an understatement.”

Tom had walked over to the two, a glass of champagne in his hand, “It was a good play.”

“That?” You scoffed, “That was bullshit. He bodychecked his own teammate to make a goal, and for what? To make ESPN’s “play of the week”,” You mocked, looking back at the ice just as Jake got shoved up against the boards. . . again, “Hockey is a team sport. You’re only going to be good if you work together. That little display of. . . whatever the fuck, isn’t how you win a cup. If Jake Seresin wanted to play by himself, he should try golf.”

You turned your body as Tom and Pete shared a look, “What?”

A smile broke across Pete’s face, “Nothing. . . you just sound like your dad.”

You tried to keep up your facade, but it slowly faded as your ears turned pink and a smile threatened to arise on your face. You cleared your throat and turned back to the game, stomping your heel for extra drama. Both men chuckled softly, before following suit and watching the second period get under way.

— — —

They should’ve won.

They should’ve fucking won.

The Coyotes were supposed to be an easy, breezy team to play before the Daggers hit the road for 2 weeks. But apparently, the Coyotes had gotten good overnight. . . or the Daggers underestimated them.

The moment the final buzzer went off, Jake was pissed. A final score of 6-2 in bright block letters dancing around the jumbotron as Jake skated off the ice towards the locker room, not stopping to acknowledge fans or his coaches. Everyone knew better than to stand in the way of Jake Seresin and the locker room after a brutal loss. The second the door closed behind him, he was breaking his stick against the ground with a loud yell.

“You’re lucky Bauer endorses you,” Bradley mumbled as he walked in after Jake, kicking the pieces of splintered plastic.

“Shut up, Bradshaw,” Jake muttered, throwing the remaining stick off towards the side. He sat down on the bench with a groan, immediately going to undo his skates, “That was fucking stupid.”

“We got outplayed,” Bradley shrugged, “What can we do?”

“Don't get outplayed.”

Bradley couldn’t even respond as Jake was already shucking off his uniform and pads, before grabbing his towel and heading to the showers. On the nights where they lost, Jake was the first one out of the locker room, doing all that was humanly possible to avoid talking to the press. Tonight, he seemed to be wanting to move even quicker, knowing that the press was going to ask him about the bodycheck he delivered to Holloway and how he felt about his upcoming suspension.

Jake showered quickly, washing the hotspots of his body, knowing that he would take a more in depth shower at home. Or maybe he’d take a bath. There was nothing Jake loved more than his clawfoot bathtub, it was the selling point for Jake when he was house hunting. Wrapping the towel around his waist, Jake stepped out into the locker room, which was fuller with his team mates all stripping off their uniforms and equipment. A cloud of tension was thick in the air as no one hardly said anything. What was there to say?

They should’ve fucking won.

“Seresin,” Coach Simpson said as he walked into the locker room. Jake’s back tensed, his breathing deep, “We need to talk.”

Jake took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, before reaching for his deodorant, “Not now.”

“Yes,” Simpson grumbled, “Now.”

Jake turned around, “No.” Simpson’s jaw clenched as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Excuse me?”

Jake clenched his jaw, “Not tonight, alright, Coach? I played like shit. We all played like shit. My body hurts. I’m tired. And quite frankly, I think I am the last person that should be talking to the press tonight,” Jake turned back to his locker, grabbing his sweatpants. With not an ounce of shame in his body, he turned back around to his coach, and dropped his towel. Simpson quickly looked away, annoyance even more evident on his face.

“Fine,” Simpson grunted, “Get your shit and get out.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Jake smirked, slipping on his sweatpants and chucking all of his stuff into his duffle bag, “See you in two weeks.”

“Actually. . .” Simpson licked his lips, as if the next words were going to pain him, “You will be joining us in Edmonton. Won’t be playing, but you’ll be there.”

“Perfect. . . guessing they didn’t want me and Emma alone in the same place.” Before Simpson could yell at him Jake walked out of the locker room.

Although his mood had lifted slightly, the moment he was in his truck, and turned on the Paul Marquez Show, his anger returned.

“Going out West, we had the Coyotes and Daggers. . . and man did those Coyotes chew them up and spit them out,” Paul’s voice sounded out over the speakers as Jake put the truck in drive. He knew it was stupid to listen to sports analysts who hated him after playing probably the worst game of the season. But Jake was a sucker for pain, “Jake Seresin scored both of North Island’s goals for the night getting them on the scoreboard but it wasn’t enough.”

“Oh it was enough,” The voice of Denny Lester filled the cab of the truck, “Hitting your already injured teammate. . . an injury that you caused, is certainly a new one.”

“Seresin’s time in the penalty box was certainly lower than it was during last week's game stretch against the Devils,” Paul Marquez’s voice sounded through the speaker again, “Could this mean that the Dagger bad boy is turning a new leaf?” Jake scoffed, rolling his eyes towards his sunroof, “Or could it mean that the trade deadline is fast approaching, and Seresin’s title could be on the line.

Jake quickly turned off the radio, not wanting to hear the analysis on the encroaching trade deadline. He had the date circled on his calendar in bright red marker, and hung it on his fridge. Jake always believed the trade deadline came at the worst part of the season. Teams had been playing together for months, most had players returning from All-Star Weekend, the end of the season was winding down and the playoff teams started to become clearer. Trades could either make or break a team. Even if you were one of the benchwarmers that got traded, it was still a hit to the team.

If you would’ve asked Jake last season if he was worried about the trade deadline, he would’ve laughed in your face and told you that you were stupid for even asking that question. But this season was different. He was different. Jake hated to say that the years of getting rammed into the boards were starting to catch up to him. . . but those years of getting rammed into the boards were starting to catch up to him.

Jake pulled into the underground garage of his apartment building, turning his truck off and grabbing his duffle and suit bag from the car. His shoes squeaked against the marble of his luxury apartment building, as he nodded his head towards his doorman and the elevator attendant. Yeah, he lived in one of those buildings. When he first got to the daggers as an 18 year old, he had splurged most of his first NHL check on getting all the things he imagined, including the luxury penthouse on the 15th floor of the “Hamilton Building '' named after nonother than his hockey idol.

The elevator dinged and opened right into Jake's living room, which was mainly black and white marble floors with black couches, white walls and a black-brick fireplace. He was a simple man, and liked to keep his house simple. He didn’t have time for decorations and besides, it was just more stuff around to collect dust. His housekeeper already had enough to do cleaning the two floor, 8 bedrooms, 6 bathroom penthouse.

Jake tossed his duffle and suit bags on the floor by the elevator, knowing Donna will pick it up and put it away in his closet in the morning. He didn’t know how she did it, but his bag and clothes were always washed and put away by the time he woke up in the morning. She was like Santa Claus, but with less breaking into people’s houses. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, wanting his post-game snack which consisted of chocolate chip cookies and homemade ice cream, both made by Donna.

He came to a stop in the doorway, his eyebrows furrowing at the stranger with her back to him, sitting at his kitchen island. The black dress she wore hugged her frame, and the black heels on her feet made her golden tan legs look like they went on for ages. Her hair was curled and flowed down her back, and the slightest hint of a tattoo peaked out from under the neckline.

“I didn’t order anything, but I am sure glad you’re here,” Jake smirked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorway.

The girl jumped, her phone clattering to the island and her hand going to her chest, probably to slow her erratic heartbeat. She waited a moment, before turning around on the barstool, shock written on her face, before it quickly twisted in disgust and anger.

“Oh you got to be fucking kidding me,” She cursed.

Jake chuckled, “Nice to meet you too, sweetheart. Usually that’s not the response I get. And usually the girls are wearing less clothes when I walk in. But I get it, want a bit of a-”

The girl slid off the barstool, holding her hand up to cut him off, “I am not a fucking puck bunny,” She pointed her finger at him, and then waved it between the two of them, “And this is not going to fucking work,” She turned back around towards the island, gathering her phone, purse and coat. Jake couldn’t help but admire her ass in that black dress. He was a sucker for a woman in a little black dress and heels.

“You’re in my apartment wearing a black dress and heels. What else am I supposed to assume?”

The girl scoffed, turning her head with her jaw slightly ajar. Jake let his mind wander a bit, wondering how soft her lips were. They were plump and covered in what he guessed was lipgloss by the way they shone in the dim light of his kitchen.

“You don’t even. . .” She shook her head again, “God you are worse than I remember,” Jake cocked his head in confusion, “I should’ve asked for a fucking name before I drove here. Hell! Before I even agreed to this!”

“What are you going on about?” Jake asked, his eyebrows furrowed, “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call you or-” The girl scoffed again, even louder this time, “Okay. . .” He pondered for a moment, trying to rack his brain for the right thing to say, “Well, I’m not that bad of a lay. I’ve been told I’m pretty-” The glare she sent him was enough to make him shut up, “Okay not here for a lay.”

“Not even fucking close,” She grabbed her phone again, quickly opening the uber app.

“Sorry for assuming, sweetheart.”

“Quit with the sweetheart,” She mumbled, refreshing the app to see if a car could come get her. It was a Friday Night in North Island. . . how was there not a single Uber available? She was contemplating walking back to her hotel at this point, “That’s not my name.”

Jake nodded his head, moving from the entryway of the kitchen and over to the opposite end of the island. He’s had his fair share of rejections, but none like this. Usually girls were always down for a one night stand with him. But there was something about the way this girl wasn’t even going to give him the time of day that intrigued him, “Can you tell me what your name is?”

She continued to tap away on her phone, hoping and pleading to whomever that an Uber would become available, but it seemed like she was shit out of luck. She looked up at the man in front of her again, his eyebrows raised, waiting for her response to his question. A strange sensation filled her chest. Embarrassment. Hurt. Anger. She should’ve known that she didn’t mean anything to him, when he had only left a sticky note on the nightstand after what she would consider was the best weekend of her life. She shook her head, pushing away the embarrassment and turning it into fuel for her anger. She set down her purse and coat, holding her hand out to Jake.

“Y/N L/N, your new personal PR manager. . . oh! And your new roommate.”

taglist: @dempy @marchingicenotes7 @abaker74 @aworldwideapart @atarmychick007 @hookslove1592 @whatislovevavy @lynnevanss @djs8891 @jessicab1991 @senawashere @bethbunnyy @bradshawbaby @coconut152 @jazminlahey20 @averyhotchner @misconceptionmistress @drxgxnslxyer @atinytinaa @hangmansgbaby @buckysteveloki-me @himbos-on-ice @krispybearbouquet @fandom-princess-forevermore @seitmai @ateliersss @kmc1989 @aiyaiy @bradshawsvinyl @my-name-is-baby @ashloveshockey @mrsevans90 @tgmreader @yuckosworld @justdamnpeachy @xoxabs88xox @330bpm-whiplash @a-serene-place-to-be

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chirpingfromthebox · 3 months

Text

Looks like the article is back up. Although one comment on it says that this version has been edited from what was initially put up. I never saw the original one so I can't say anything about that.

I'll put the text of it under the break lest it goes down again.

New Allegations Emerge, Trouble Continues To Mount In Minnesota

More members of PWHL Minnesota's 2024 Walter Cup winning team continue to step forward adding to the allegations the organization is facing.

--Ian Kennedy

***Trigger Warning: Please note this article references ableist language.

PWHL Minnesota's offseason has been rife with controversy. Following reports of a "toxic" and "unprofessional" environment from a former staff member this week, new allegations have been made regarding the conduct of head coach Ken Klee.

Minnesota first made news just over a week after the team won the inaugural Walter Cup when the league dismissed general manager Natalie Darwitz from her role, citing "extensive both internal and external reviews" showing that "there wasn't a path forward with the current personnel as a whole in place."

Three additional staff members from Minnesota's 2024 Walter Cup winning team - assistant coach Jake Bobrowski, goalie coach Brennan Poderzay and skills coach Johnny Seibel - were let go earlier this week by head coach Ken Klee. In an interview with The Hockey News, a former staff of PWHL Minnesota, who requested anonymity, described the team culture as "a very toxic environment."

In one example provided to The Hockey News, the former staff member stated, "The rumbling from the "lower end girls," were that basically they feel bullied by the veterans and the leadership group, because they're all tight with Ken (Klee) and they've got Ken's ear. Ken was telling players to not go on the ice because they were taking reps away from the important players who were actually going to play."

Following that report, more members of the 2024 PWHL Minnesota staff and roster spoke to The Hockey News regarding issues and conduct they'd witnessed this season, specifically related to PWHL Minnesota head coach Ken Klee.

Multiple individuals alleged Klee would often use the word "retarded" when addressing players and in conversation. Additionally Klee nicknamed a younger player on the roster "Dumbo," a nickname he openly used.

A player from PWHL Minnesota's 2024 roster, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, also alleged that while watching game film, Klee made a statement regarding the race of an opposing player.

The PWHL stated they will continue to investigate the claims and act accordingly based on their findings. The league stated they are committed to an inclusive and respectful work environment.

“The PWHL is committed to fostering a culture and workplace environment that is inclusive, respectful, and free from misconduct," the PWHL said in an emailed statement to The Hockey News. "From the beginning of the league, personnel have been assessed through various means, including external professional reviews, an anonymous tip line, and internal evaluations. We hold ourselves to the highest standards. All reports are taken seriously, and we will continue to investigate, assess, and act accordingly based on our findings.”

Minnesota won the inaugural PWHL title on May 29, 2024. The 2024-2025 season is expected to begin in late November or early December.

The PWHL posted a job listing this week to begin searching for a new general manager to fill the role in Minnesota.

#pwhl #pwhl minnesota #pwhl news

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misshoneyimhome · 5 months

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you’re interning with the maple leafs athletic training department after graduating university in the health field. you’re new to the city & don’t know anyone. ur quiet and only engage with players when spoken too. it’s obvious ur intelligent and very career driven. you have an independent vibe. it’s clear ur not impressed or starstruck by players, but not in a rude way its just u aren’t interested in hockey as a sport only the health aspect as it relates to ur career, so ur vibe gives off very much *professional only here to get paid*😂….anyway willy thought you were stunning initially,but he was caught off guard since ur not his usual type and don’t have the same physical or aesthetic look as any other gf/vibe in the league. ur appearance is very feminine but u dress streetwear tomboy. ur slim but with an hourglass build athletic legs /big butt. u have big long curly hair that u let flow wild and don’t wear makeup but ur skin glows and thick dark eyelashes /rosey lips are striking. its clear willy is not the only one that finds u intriguing bc he’s noticed few players act “different” when u come around -and he can tell they’re crushing on you. they’re harmlessly flirtatious with u but ur oblivious. he knows someone will ask u out soon. how do you think willy reacts? does he make a move? does he feel jealous? he hasn’t even had a chance to introduce himself, yet he’s seen other players find an excuse to interact with u. he knew he was interested but didn’t expect to have to act so soon. does chill willy feel like he has competition or nah? can you write something to add or finish the plot or just take this concept and create ur own magic 😅 i have the vision but definitely not the skill or outlet lmao

Absolutely, babe! So, this was more than just something and I definitely enjoyed it 🤍 You provided me with so much inspiration, and I hope I've managed to convey your vision at least to some extent 😉

Perhaps there's room for a sequel, but I also believe it stands strong on its own - either way, my wish is for you to enjoy it 🤗

Warnings; none, it's pure fluff 🌺 maybe some language, but nothing out of the ordinary;

Word count; 5K

Song inspiration; "Lovestoned/ I Think She Knows" by Justin Timberlake

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @justwanderingbutneverlost

➼｡ﾟ

She’s got me Lovestoned I William Nylander

“She looks like a model Except she's got a little more ass Don't even bother Unless you've got that thing she likes I hope she's going home with me tonight”

Your heart raced with excitement as you followed your manager through the busy corridors of the Maple Leafs' training facility. The sound of skates scraping against the ice and the reverberation of pucks hitting the boards filled the atmosphere, adding to the tangible buzz of the surroundings.

Freshly graduated from university with a degree in the healthcare field, you had long imagined this moment. Securing an internship with the athletic training department of one of the most esteemed sports teams in the league was a dream come true – an opportunity to apply your expertise and knowledge in a practical environment.

As you strolled, you couldn't help but admire the cutting-edge facilities surrounding you. From the fully equipped gym to the medical treatment rooms, every aspect was crafted to ensure the players received optimal care and resources.

And your manager, sensing your admiration, offered you a warm smile. "Welcome to the team miss y/l/n," they said, their tone brimming with pride. "We're delighted to have you join us."

You reciprocated the smile, thankful for the chance and eager to demonstrate your abilities. This was your moment to establish yourself in the realm of sports medicine, to glean knowledge from the experts and contribute to the team's triumphs.

And as you continued to explore the facility, a surge of excitement pulsed through you. This marked merely the beginning of your journey with the Maple Leafs, and you were resolute in seizing every opportunity that lay ahead.

As you settled into your role as an intern within both the Medical and Performance teams, your reserved and composed demeanour became apparent to those around you. You'd always been one to let your actions do the talking, and this remained unchanged in your new environment.

Focused and resolute, you approached each task with unwavering commitment; whether it involved aiding in rehabilitation exercises or conducting pre-season screenings, you handled each duty with precision and diligence.

While some might have mistaken your quiet nature for aloofness, those who took the time to understand you soon discovered there was more beneath the surface. You were intelligent, determined, and fiercely independent – a formidable presence in your own right.

Unlike many others in your position, you weren't swayed by the glamour of professional hockey. While you respected the sport and admired the players' athleticism, your focus lay solely on the health and well-being aspect, aligning with your career aspirations.

To you, the players were not celebrities to be idolised but individuals to be cared for – athletes whose welfare relied on your expertise. And you simply approached your responsibilities with professionalism and purpose, recognising the significance of your role in the team's success.

Yet, although you kept to yourself, speaking only, when necessary, your influence permeated the facility. Your dedication to excellence and the players' wellbeing garnered the respect and admiration of your colleagues. And as you delved deeper into your work, you found a profound sense of satisfaction, knowing you were making a meaningful impact on the athletes' lives and careers.

As the first two weeks of your internship with the team flew by faster than you’d expected, you quickly became fully engrossed in the dynamic world of professional hockey. The days were a whirlwind of absorbing new information, making acquaintances with staff and players, and engaging in hands-on tasks that put your skills and knowledge to the test.

With the start of the regular hockey season on the horizon, the gravity of the job began to dawn on you. However, far from feeling daunted, you embraced the challenge with enthusiasm and resolve. This was the culmination of your training, the result of your hard work, and you were prepared to demonstrate your worth.

With each passing day, your confidence in your abilities grew, and you found your rhythm within the team. Yet, while your focus remained on your duties, you gradually began to forge connections with those around you, as the staff and players greeted you with open arms, fostering a sense of camaraderie that made it easy to acclimate to your new surroundings. Your initial intention to maintain a professional distance slowly faded, and you somehow found yourself drawn into the team's social dynamics.

As time went on, laughter and friendly banter became commonplace during the long hours spent with your colleagues, and before you knew it, you were joining in with the playful teasing.

"Come on, Lou," you chuckled. "Who's the trickiest player?" you quipped.

"I can’t say..." Louis Rojas, the Head Strength and Conditioning Coach, chuckled in response. "But there are certainly a few who need a gentle nudge when it comes to the rehabilitation aspect of training..." he winked. "And I won't name names, but it seems like the longer they've been on the team, the more inflated their ego becomes."

It was all good-natured banter, naturally. From your perspective, each player had their own unique traits, but you understood why – this was the results of their lifelong dream, pursued with sacrifices of social life and late nights for early morning training sessions and weekend games.

And despite the jests, you felt like you were part of a close-knit family among your peers.

Whether it was the late nights after a defeat or the shared jubilation following a hard-fought victory, every experience drew you nearer to your team. And when a player sustained an injury, regardless of how minor, you felt the weight of responsibility, knowing you played a vital role in the team's support structure.

Even the players, initially unfamiliar with your reserved nature, began to open up to you as they became more acquainted. Despite any unintentional distance, they valued your commitment and professionalism, gradually extending their trust and respect.

And as you navigated through the highs and lows of the hockey beginning of the season alongside your newfound comrades, you couldn't help but sense a feeling of belonging – a realisation that, despite any initial hesitations, you were precisely where you were meant to be.

“She shuts the room down The way she walks and causes a fuss The baddest in town She's flawless like some uncut ice I hope she's going home with me tonight”

As the months went by, more players gradually began to get to know your personality a bit better, noticing the subtle sparks you unintentionally ignited. And one player, in particular, found himself increasingly drawn to you.

William Nylander hadn't anticipated this turn of events, being entirely focused on his career and having his best season yet. However, as the young Swedish forward observed you carrying out your duties with quiet resolve, he couldn't ignore the growing sense of curiosity that stirred within him. Unlike the typical women he encountered in the hockey world, you possessed a unique charm and allure that captured his attention from the outset.

Your appearance defied convention, blending elements of femininity with a distinctive streetwear tomboy aesthetic. Your slender yet athletic figure, accentuated by your hourglass figure, toned legs, and shapely posterior, intrigued him in a way he hadn't expected.

Your long, untamed curls flowed down your back, framing your face in a halo of natural beauty. And though you opted for minimal makeup, your natural radiance shone through, with thick, dark eyelashes framing your captivating eyes and rosy lips that seemed to beckon him. Yet, it wasn't solely your physical attributes that intrigued him – it was your confident and graceful demeanour, your unapologetic embrace of your individuality.

To William, you represented a refreshing departure from the predictable stereotypes usually found in the hockey world. He found himself drawn to your authenticity, your refusal to conform to societal norms. And as he observed you navigate the challenges of your role with quiet determination, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was far more to you than met the eye.

Yet, amidst his desirable interest, he couldn't help but think of how you might respond to his actions and thoughts. Would you reciprocate his attention, or would you maintain your professional composure, unaware of the impact you had on those around you?

Only time held the answer, but one thing was clear—William was determined to find out. And one day, he resolved to take action and initiate a conversation.

"Hey there, I'm Willy," he introduced himself, flashing his trademark smirk as he encountered you in the physio room shortly after a session where the performance team had discussed nutritious foods and home recipe ideas.

And as you tidied up the materials from the presentation, a soft chuckle escaped you. "Yes, I'm aware," you replied with a gentle smile.

"You are?" he inquired, a small hint of surprise in his tone.

"Well, of course," you chuckled once more, a mischievous glimmer in your eye as you neatly arranged the papers. "It's part of my job - I'm familiar with all of you, including your current physical condition and medical histories."

William couldn't contain his amusement at your response, his smirk broadening as he let out a soft chuckle. It wasn't often that someone managed to catch him off guard, but there was something about your effortless confidence that intrigued him.

"Ah, so you've been doing your homework on me, eh?" he teased, leaning casually against the nearby equipment rack with a playful glint in his eye.

"You could say that," you retorted with a grin, a touch of mischief flickering in your gaze. "But don't worry, your secrets are safe with me."

William smiled, a sense of warmth enveloping him at your relaxed banter. "Well, in that case, I hope it's all just good stuff," he quipped, flashing you a charming smile, his eyes gleaming with genuine interest.

"Oh, absolutely," you replied, feigning innocence. "Only the finest gossip about your impeccable physique and stellar health habits."

William laughed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Well, I'm relieved to hear I've made such an impression," he joked, his smirk widening as he leaned in a little closer, a newfound sense of connection sparking between you.

And as the conversation flowed, the playful banter between you and William felt effortless, each exchange infused with light-hearted humour and genuine warmth. Despite starting off as acquaintances, it was evident that this spontaneous encounter held the promise of something more, leaving a sense of anticipation lingering in the air like a whisper of exciting possibilities.

As the first few months progressed, William couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in dynamics whenever you were present. He observed how other players' demeanours changed, becoming more animated and flirtatious when you entered the room. And despite your apparent obliviousness to their advances, William couldn't shake the twinge of jealousy gnawing at him.

As it was, your responsibilities extended beyond mere observation and monitoring of the players' physical and mental well-being; at times, you were also required to engage with them physically. Whether it involved carrying out a soft massage to their legs or backs, aiding with stretches, or similar activities with the purpose of facilitating their recovery, ensuring the were swiftly back on their feet was part of your role.

And truth be told, when a young, attractive woman like yourself interacted closely with young men, some of whom were not in committed relationships, their minds often wandered. And consequently, comments occasionally slipped out, their mouths moving faster than their rational thoughts.

"You know, you can press harder, I can handle it."

"We could continue this session later, when it's more private."

"Your touch is amazing – it's really doing wonders... anything else you're good at?"

To you, these remarks seemed harmless, playful, and merely part of the camaraderie. You were accustomed to the tone, unaffected by it, and accepted it as part of the team dynamic, which was likely why the management allowed you to work in such close proximity to the players.

However, for William, these comments carried a weightier significance.

For some time now, William had been trying to forge a closer connection with you, seizing any opportunity to get to know you better amidst the limited time available. Yet, despite his efforts, you simply remained a staff member while he was a hockey player under your care. And he wasn't the only one deserving of your attention. Your professional interest extended to all the players, regardless of their role on the team, and it appeared that some others were making rather direct attempts at flirting.

A part of him had hoped for more time to cultivate a deeper bond with you before making a move. However, with each passing day, he felt the pressure mounting as he observed other players finding excuses to engage with you.

Despite his typically relaxed demeanour, the young Swede found himself torn between maintaining his composure and the urge to stake his claim before someone else did. It was an unfamiliar sensation; one he hadn't felt before. Usually, it would be the women vying for his attention. But you were different. You exuded nothing but a sense of calm, confidence, and independence that simply captivated him.

And as he deliberated his options, William realised that he needed to take action, to seize the moment before it slipped away.

"And now I walk around without a care She's got me hooked It just ain't fair, but I... I'm love stoned and I could swear That she knows"

Fortunately for William, an opportunity presented itself one evening, and he was determined not to let it slip by. It was a typical Wednesday training session, with a match scheduled for the following day, and during the ice time, he inadvertently made a small movement, aggravating his existing back injury.

While not severe, the coaching staff still insisted on him being checked before the upcoming game. And luckily, you were still at the facilities, having just finished up a report when he entered the medical treatment room.

"Hey y/n," he greeted softly, walking with a slight crook in his step, the pain from his lower back evident.

"Hey William, what's up?" you asked, noticing his discomfort. "Is everything okay?" you inquired, concern evident in your voice.

"Just call me Willy," he smiled. "But um... yeah, I sort of did something... I mean... Kniesy tackled me, and now I can feel it in my back..." he explained with a light chuckle.

"Well, how about you undress a bit, and then we can take a closer look at it?" you suggested with a sweet smile, to which he simply nodded.

"Usually, I take the girls out before they ask me to strip," he cheekily remarked as he began to undress before you.

Raising a brow, you flashed him a grin and a questioning look. "Do you really?"

This was the type of banter that most of the players appreciated about you. You weren't afraid to push boundaries and test their comfort zones.

"Maybe not," William admitted with a chuckle as he stood in front of you, only the physio table separating you, in nothing but his short shorts before you directed him to lie face down.

"Well, at least you admit it," you replied softly, surprising yourself by engaging in a more personal conversation than usual. "Most guys just act like they couldn't care less."

William was slightly taken aback by your candidness. While you'd shared conversations where you got to know each other better, you hadn't delved into deeper opinions before.

"Why wouldn't I care?" William smiled as he shifted his head to the side, meeting your gaze as you stood beside the table. "I mean, she's still a person, right?"

"I don't know, I'm just saying what most guys do," you replied.

"Well, maybe I'm not like most guys," William retorted, his wink adding to his cheekiness.

His comment took you by surprise, causing you to pause for a moment. Though you hadn't exactly considered any of the players as close friends or thought about them in a romantic way, there was something about this Swede that suddenly had you reconsidering.

Was he flirting with you?

No, you dismissed the thought. You were definitely not his type, or any of the players for that matter. After all, you were just there to help maintain their health so they could perform at their best.

Yet, as you thought about it, you couldn't deny that most of the players were indeed attractive. And given that you'd seen most of them in various stages of undress, you knew what they looked like from head to toe.

And you probably couldn't deny the allure of the players. Each had their own charm – some were sweet and kind, while others were more playful and cheekier. Yet, none of them displayed any meanness or cruelty. Even Reaves, who often projected a rough and tough exterior, revealed a tender side when speaking about his family. In fact, most of the players with families exhibited a similar dichotomy. Despite their tough demeanour on the ice, they were remarkably different behind the scenes.

Then there were the younger players, some single, some in relationships, all equally playful and lacking a certain level of maturity. However, you found their antics amusing and entertaining. Perhaps only Woll, the sweetheart of the team, was less inclined towards playful banter, but lively, nonetheless.

And despite your bit of familiarity with these players on a personal level by now, they remained nothing more than the team you were tasked with caring for and supporting as needed.

So, pushing aside any lingering thoughts, you focused your attention on the player's bare back, beginning to apply pressure to his tender muscles to locate the sore spot.

"How's this?" you inquired in your professional tone.

"It's good, but maybe you need to go a bit lower... that's where the pain is worst," William responded, the cheekiness in his voice fading as he sensed your seriousness.

And as you continued to massage his back, applying pressure to different muscle groups before focusing on his lower back, a few minutes passed.

"Here?" you asked, indicating the area.

William nodded lightly, then hesitated, feeling a twinge of awkwardness as he tried to pinpoint the exact location of his discomfort.

"Uh, yes, but..." he cleared his throat. "Maybe even lower..."

You sensed his slight nervousness, understanding what he was hinting at. Yet, you remained professional, knowing exactly how to address his injury and provide appropriate care.

"Willy, are you referring to your sciatic area?" you asked.

"What's that?" he chuckled.

"Well, it's one of the largest nerves in the body, extending from your lower back down each leg," you explained, smiling even though he couldn't see it.

"Oh, so, uh..." he trailed off, unsure how to ask, and you couldn't help but chuckle lightly, maintaining your professional demeanour.

“It means I'll have to massage your glute - as in your bum. It's one of the largest muscles where the nerve runs behind, but it seems like yours is cramping a little, pressing onto the nerve, which causes the pain."

William understood your explanation, and a smirk crossed his face as he imagined your perspective on his ass at that moment.

"Well, I suppose there's nothing else to do but for you to go ahead," he chuckled lightly.

Sensing his slightly cheeky demeanour once again, you aimed to bring the situation back to a professional tone.

"Willy, it's nothing sensual. And believe me, it's probably a lot more painful than pleasant," you reassured him.

"I think I can handle it," he replied with a cocky smile.

"We'll see about that."

And with his understanding, you went ahead and placed your elbow onto his cheek and started to circle it in order to loosen up the cramp muscle.

“Shit!” William exclaimed as he suddenly felt the pain course through his body.

One thing in particular that you’d become known for amongst the players, was that you were rather strong compared to your size. And you didn’t hold back when you knew that their injuries required force.

“Told you it wasn’t pleasant.” You grinned softly, as you continued to massage his cheek.

And as more minutes went by, William’s deep grunts only grew more incoherent and out of breath. He was nothing but sore, yet as you released your arm from his body, he felt a newfound release washing over him. As if your massage had healing powers, the pain slowly faded into nothing, and he didn’t feel the twinge in his lower back any longer.

“Fuck…” he let out a deep sigh as he caught his breath.

“Need a minute, Nylander?” you mocked playfully and flashed him a grin as your eyes met with his.

“Maybe…” he softly admitted, still a little numb from the intense feeling you had caused him.

“That’s good, that means it’s working.”

You turned around to remove your latex gloves, and as your turned back, William slowly rose and turned to his side to face you, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over him. Despite the discomfort of the massage, he recognised its necessity and appreciated your expertise.

"Thanks, y/n," he said sincerely, meeting your gaze as you turned back to face him.

"You're welcome, Willy," you replied with a warm smile, appreciating his gratitude.

A moment of silence followed as you both remained still, and the tension of the massage easing away. Then, suddenly, William's expression softened, and he cleared his throat, as if preparing to speak.

"Listen, y/n, I... uh... I just wanted to ask..." he trailed off, his cheeks colouring slightly.

You raised an eyebrow, curious about what he was trying to express. "Yes?" you prompted gently.

But before William could continue, the door to the physio room swung open, and one of the team trainers entered, interrupting the moment.

"Hey, William, everything okay? I heard you were having some trouble with your back," Dean inquired, concern evident in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine now, thanks to y/n," William replied, shooting you a grateful look.

Dean nodded, then turned to you with a smile. "Thanks for taking care of him, y/n. We appreciate it."

You nodded in acknowledgment, though you couldn't hide the slight disappointment you felt at the interruption, before he swiftly left the room again. However, William's reassuring smile lifted your spirits, sparking a sense of excitement within you. Perhaps there was more to his earlier words than you had initially thought.

And as William watched you, a surge of determination coursed through him. This was his moment, his opportunity to finally express what had been on his mind for so long. So, with a deep breath, he pushed himself up to sit, his gaze unwavering as he met yours. The lingering soreness in his back served as a reminder of your expertise and the connection they shared.

"So, this is it?" he asked, his voice soft yet filled with anticipation, a hint of vulnerability peeking through his confident facade.

"Well, for now," you replied with a smile. "But we'll need to keep an eye on you to ensure it doesn't happen again like that. Cramps like these often come back." You found yourself unintentionally delving into the details of the injury, your passion for health and well-being shining through. "And, um... it's good to have someone who understands the injury to provide follow-up care," you concluded, realising you had been speaking more than intended. "Sorry, I'm rambling," you added with a sincere smile.

But William simply chuckled softly, finding your passion endearing as you spoke about the injury. He couldn't tear his gaze away from you, captivated by both your expertise and your beauty.

"Anyway, we should probably get back," you suggested softly, your friendly smile causing a flutter in William's heart.

But he didn't want this moment to end, not yet. Summoning his usual confidence, William spoke before he could second-guess himself. "Y/n, do you want to go out with me?" he asked, the words tumbling out faster than he could skate.

You didn't quite catch his words over the echoing noise of the hallways. "Pardon?" you asked, turning to face him, curiosity flickering in your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, William tried again. "I mean, since you've already massaged my ass... I was just thinking... maybe you want to go out with me... sometime?"

His question caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily stunned. Frozen in your position, you struggled to process the unexpected turn of events.

“Willy…” you started, unsure of how to respond. Could you go out with him, a player for the team you worked for? Had you overlooked any contractual restrictions regarding such situations?

Truth be told, you hadn't paid much attention to those details before, as they didn't seem relevant at the time. Yet here you were, faced with an unexpected situation.

As you hesitated, William sensed your uncertainty, a twinge of fear for rejection creeping into his mind. Had he overstepped the boundaries? Perhaps he had misread the signals or been too presumptuous. Chiding himself internally, he realised that charming you and engaging in physical contact were not enough to win your affections. You were different, and he needed to find a way to impress you.

"I mean," he interjected, attempting to ease the tension he had created. "I just know that, uhm, some of the other guys were, you know, thinking about asking you the same... so," he sighed, "Just thought I'd try and beat them to it," he added with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your confusion deepened at his explanation, feeling overwhelmed by the revelation. "Oh... wait, what?" you exclaimed, your mind racing at the thought of other players potentially having similar intentions.

You were baffled. Did the players talk about you when you weren’t there?

"You didn't know?" William looked at you, equally surprised, as his teammates hadn’t exactly been subtle in their flirting.

"Well, do I look like someone who knew?" you quipped, attempting to flash a crooked smile, causing William to simply let out a small laugh.

“Come on, they’ve all been flirting with you!” he chuckled.

“They have?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Well, now you know.”

You needed a moment to process it all. As you contemplated how to navigate this unexpected revelation, feeling unable to simply ignore it and return to your usual routine, you gazed at the Swede before you.

“But... why?”

Again, William laughed. “What do you mean why? Come on, y/n – you’re good-looking, funny, smart, and most of all, you don’t seem desperate or starstruck whenever you're around us,” he explained.

“Why would I be that?” you simply asked.

“Well, a lot of girls are, I mean, we’re hockey players,” William grinned confidently.

“Oh wow, please work on that self-confidence of yours,” you rolled your eyes as you crossed your arms. “Seriously, I don’t get why women would just throw themselves at your feet… you’re just… humans.”

“Well, they do,” William laughed again, his confident smirk still in place. “But I guess that’s just what we all like about you... that you don’t...”

“Hmm, I suppose I don’t,” you attempted a smile, still uncertain how to react to it all.

There was another moment of silence as the two of you simply stood before each other, your thoughts still swirling. However, as William hadn’t received a clear response, he let out a soft chuckle and decided to press on.

“So, do you?”

“Huh?” you blinked a few times, slowly returning to reality.

“Do you want to go out with me?” he chuckled once more. “Just for a coffee or something?”

He seemed genuinely serious about this, didn’t he? You thought. As you gazed into his deep ocean blue eyes, you couldn’t ignore the unexpected attraction you suddenly felt towards him. It might have been there for a while, but amidst your own musings, you hadn’t paid it much attention.

“Well, wouldn’t it be inappropriate?” you asked softly, still maintaining your professional demeanour despite the stirrings of emotion within you. But William simply shrugged in response.

“I don’t know… I mean, I guess in a way…” he let out a small sigh. “I just didn’t want to miss the chance, you know, in case you did want to…”

Once again, there was a lingering moment in the air. You couldn’t deny the temptation, given that you were, in fact, single, and had been missing a man’s touch ever since you’d focused so much on your internship. But a part of you felt like it would be wrong.

In a way, you worked for William. You couldn’t go out with him. What if it didn’t go well, and he’d hurt you or vice versa? Then it would just be awkward seeing each other every day. Or what if it went too well, but the management wouldn’t approve of it, and both of you would end up being hurt?

Your thoughts raced at a high speed, causing you to lightly gasp for air. Yet, your train of thoughts was interrupted by the door swinging open again and this time Lou entered.

“Oh hey,” he smiled. “You guys all done in here?”

“Yeah sorry, we just chatted,” William explained casually, as you remained frozen in position. “I better go.”

And as he left the room and Lou started to talk to you, you suddenly felt a wave of disappointment wash over you. Watching William leave with your indirect rejection of his proposal suddenly caused you to feel a sense of unease, perhaps making you realise that there was something more to it all.

Then as you realised you hadn’t heard a single word of what Lou had said, you excused yourself and hurriedly followed the Swedish player.

“Hey, Willy,” you called after him, causing him to halt and turn around. Trying to maintain your composure, you met him halfway and flashed him a sweet smile. “I suppose coffee wouldn’t be too bad,” you spoke softly, earning a smile from the taller player.

“Well then, I guess I’ll buy you a cup whenever there’s time,” he chuckled lightly, feeling a sense of relief.

“I’ll look forward to it,” you said with a soft smile, then turned around and forced yourself to refocus on work.

And as you walked away, William couldn’t help but bite his lip as he thought proudly about being the first to ask you out and your positive response. Finally, he could acknowledge all the emotions he’d been feeling for a while, and perhaps, just perhaps, you felt the same for him.

#my asks #wn88 imagine #william nylander imagine #william nylander x reader #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

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ladylooch · 6 months

Text

Strictly Pleasure - [Timo Meier]

A/N: So color me stunned when I went to the roster of Team Switzerland in 2019 and did not in fact see Timo on it……. Because the Sharks were in the playoffs…. LMAO But you know my entire AU timeline is built on 2019 so we go with it. As promised, the full fic for our unanimous poll winners 🥹

As a warning, I literally was clawing my fingernails into the bench seat editing this morning. Holy fuck. Apparently I was feeling extra smutty this weekend.....

Word Count: 4.3k

The coolness of my white wine glass chills my palm while I bring the liquid to my lips. I take a sip, lips curling up in appreciation of both the wine and the stunning sunset before my eyes. I sit on the patio of a cafe in Bratislava, Slovakia awaiting the arrival of my little brother. I am the only member of my family who has been able to make it over to Slovakia in time to see him compete for our country at the IIHF World Championships. His previous international experience has been at the U18 level, but this year he is competing in the big leagues. We are so proud of him and I feel honored to have the flexibility to see him live his dream this week.

Crowds from various countries line the streets of the capital city, surrounding Ondrej Nepela Arena. Various teams are represented- the three crowns of Sweden, the lion of Finland and one man with the red and white of my home country. I smile at the familiar crest on his chest. He wanders down the sidewalk with sunglasses on, hair perfectly styled in a swoop to the left. Mirrored aviators hide his upward gaze to the awning that spells out the restaurant. He flips his sunglasses up, looking down at his phone, then at the name of the restaurant again. Once confirming, he puts his phone back in his pocket, then stalls his footsteps at the podium explaining the menu options for tonight.

“Go Swiss!” I cheer in my native language at him. He looks up from where he had been studying the menu, nodding in my direction.

“You from?”

“Yes.”

“Me too.”

“I assumed so. You have the accent.”

“You… kind of do?” He chuckles, questioning. His head tilts to the side slightly, thick eyebrows pulling lower over his eyes. “Where are you from?”

“Close to Bern.”

“Ah… that southern dialect can be troublesome.”

“Maybe you just haven’t heard it enough. Should get out of the big city.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Zurich. Clearly.”

“St. Gallen.”

“Same difference.”

“Okay.” He chuckles, shifting as he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “This place any good?”

“Wine is good.” I cheers my glass in the air at him. “But other than that, I don’t know. My brother picked the place.”

“Yeah, I am meeting someone here too.”

“Would you like to wait with me? I can buy you a drink.” For some reason, he laughs.

“Buy me a drink?” He nods. “Sure, if your boyfriend won’t mind?”

“No boyfriend. I’m sure your girlfriend will not be much longer though?”

“No girlfriend. If I did, sitting next to a beautiful Swiss woman would likely get me into big trouble.” He murmurs, reaching for the back of the empty chair across from me. As he pulls it out, my brother comes hustling up next to us.

“Oh great! You did get my text about Timo joining us. I’m glad you found each other.” We both pause, connecting the pieces of who we are to each other. I would not have pegged him as a hockey player. He presents so different from the others I have interacted with over my brother’s playing career. “Timo, this is my older sister Emma.”

“Nice to meet you.” He murmurs as he shakes my hand. Our hands fit perfectly together in a polite shake. His fingers drag along every inch of my palm as he pulls his hand back, creating an electric jolt up my arm.

“Yeah…” I trail off, answering my brother. I gulp down a sip of wine. “He was easy to spot.” Nico grins as I stand, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “Hi.” I haven’t seen Nico for a few weeks. He came home to Switzerland after his season ended, but was running off with all his friends with his new found freedom.

“I am glad you could make it. Mama and Papa are coming tomorrow?”

“Yes, it was the earliest they could get here. I was able to get on a flight from my conference in Berlin.”

“Good. More time together.” I laugh, glancing at Timo who studies the menu across from me.

“Seemed you liked the way the last few weeks were.” I murmur. “Your big sister always coming in last.”

“I’m sorry.” Nico sighs regretfully.

“It’s okay. As per usual, your time is pulled in every single direction.”

“Yes, but you’re important to me. I’ll do better.”

“Good! You can start by buying me dinner. You make the big bucks now!”

“Yeah, you can buy mine too. You make 1st overall money. I’m slumming it down at 9.” Timo and I share a look, chuckling together at Nico’s red, embarrassed cheeks.

“With a flick of a pen, you instantly made more money than your sister has her entire career. You can buy my dinner.” I pile on.

“Stop.” Nico shakes his head with a shy smile. “I will buy you dinner because I love you and that’s it.” I shake my head, looking over at Timo.

“Nico always has to be so sweet to make me feel bad for teasing him.”

“You need to get meaner Nico.” Timo laughs. “Your sister is more intimidating than you.” I scoff at him, then smirk.

“Certified man eater.” I confirm. “You better be careful.” He sucks his cheeks in for a moment, scanning his eyes along my body. Then he shakes his head.

“I like a challenge.” He winks. I pause, recognizing his interest, sliding my gaze over to my little brother who seems to be contemplating between two entrees. I lick a drop of wine off my lips after taking a sip. Timo’s blue eyes stay there, then fall back down to the menu in front of me.

The rest of dinner, these small, wordless interactions happen. He brushes my hand while handing me back my filled water glass. We steal looks at each other whenever Nico isn’t looking. Most of the conversation is driven by us towards each other. Nico seems content to listen, happy to see us getting along so well after inviting a stranger to sibling bonding. I am thankful he did. Timo and I are vibing, conversing and joking like we have known each other for years, not less than two hours.

Nico pays the bill, making a huge show of treating us with his black Amex.

“Flaunting your wealth is tacky Nico.” I scold. He scoffs at me, waving me up out of my seat. I toss my arm around his shoulder, pulling him in for a forced hug. “I love you. Thank you.”

“I love you, buddy! Thank you!” Timo says too, coming in to the other side so Nico is sandwiched between us. I giggle hard, tilting my head back towards the dark sky while doing so. Timo’s hands grip my sides as we squeeze Nico harder. I fold my fingers over his arms too, feeling the soft material of his sweatshirt. When I open my eyes all I can see is Timo. His beautiful blue eyes sparkling with joy. His big smile and scrunched nose indicating how much fun he is having with us.

“I could use another drink.” I hear myself say to him directly. He nods immediately, releasing from our packed hug.

“We have a bar in our hotel. Are you staying there too?” Timo asks casually.

“Oh! Yes! Let’s go.” I exclaim. “Neeks?”

“Maybe. I’m tired, but I’ll see how I feel when we get there.”

“Okay.” I shrug. No offense to Nico, but I wouldn’t be disappointed if he didn’t come.

“How are we feeling about the game tomorrow?” I ask the boys as we walk the cobblestone walk way.

“Good. We’ll get it done.” Timo says confidently. Nico echos that though a yawn.

His yawning continues through our first round of drinks until he is almost falling asleep sitting up in his chair where we sit at a space in the bar, backing up to the lobby.

“Nico, just go to bed.” I chuckle.

“Yeah I am going to head there.” Nico sighs after a yawn. He looks over at me. “You too?” I bite my lip, shaking my head.

“I’m not tired. I stay up late for a living.” Nico shrugs his shoulders. “Goodnight.” He stands up.

“Goodnight baby brother.” I tease him as he heads across the lobby to the elevators. “Sleepy good!” I take a sip of my wine, then settle my brown eyes on Timo who still watches with those interested eyes. “Are you tired?” I wonder.

“No.” He says then takes a sip of his drink. “A lot more interesting things are happening down here than in mine and Fiala’s room.” A shiver runs from the base of my neck down my spine pulling my chest tight with flattery.

“You like to stay up late?”

“Mhm.” He answers around another sip of his drink. He licks at his top teeth afterwards, bringing my eyes back to his lips. “Kinda have to in this job. What do you do?”

“I own an event planning business.”

“Oh fancy, Ms. Entrepreneur.”

“I went to college and everything.”

“Impressive. Maybe I should hire you to run my charity golf tournament.”

“I could do that. But it depends.”

“On?”

“What happens between us tonight.” A slow and sexual grin rolls across his lips. He likes my boldness. My heart fluters excitedly in my chest. I love this part, getting gorgeous and powerful men to give into what has been brewing between us. “I have a strict line between business and pleasure. I’m sure you can understand that in your line of work.” Timo nods, looking lost in a previous mistake.

“That is fair.” He tilts his head. A few teammates walk through the lobby, shouting a hello at Timo. He gives a brief wave, then focuses back on me.

“Any chance I could convince you to go somewhere private to discuss further your personal and professional qualifications?” There is nothing professional about his request.

“Where would you suggest?”

“Maybe your room?” I pretend to contemplate, leaning back in my chair while studying him with scrutiny.

“What would we do there?” I ask him, dragging out the vowels in my words. I slowly run my tongue along my lips, gathering his attention there.

“You can tease me some more with that mouth.”

Forward. Bold. Going in for the kill, just like I hoped.

“Our drinks?” He pulls his wallet out, tossing cash onto the table. He stuffs his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans and stands. He holds his hand out for me. I stare at the warm, welcoming skin of his palm. I know what taking that hand means. I know this is dangerous territory, but Timo is a temporary teammate of my brother. It’s not like he is in New Jersey with him full time.

I slide my fingers gently into his hand, then clasp it as he lifts me into a standing position. He weaves our fingers together, palms cupping each other as we walk silently to the elevator. He pulls me in behind him, then turns expectantly at me.

“Four.” I tell him. He presses the button and the doors close.

“You do this often?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Plenty.” His eyes drag ravenously from my face down my body. He nods in surprised appreciation. “I won’t tell you I love you after, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He chuckles.

“You look harder to get than that. What are the rules?” He asks as he turns towards me. His hand drops mine, so he can pull my hips flush with his. My eyes flutter at what I feel. Big. Hard. Ready.

“Wrap it up. Don’t you dare finish before me. No butt stuff. And…” I insist, stepping closer. “Nico never knows.” My foot goes between his, rubbing my thigh against his zipper. He exhales a little heavier, hinting at the desire building in his body. The elevator doors open and we step out. I lead the way, sliding the key through and pushing the door open. I walk in first again. He shuts the door behind us then crosses the slim space between us. He whips me around by my wrist, crowding my space immediately. My heartbeat skyrockets in dangerous and needy passion.

“Anything else?” He asks, sliding a hand to the side of my neck. He holds it tight, thumb stroking my cheek. His blue eyes are fierce, ready for whatever waits for us on the other side of my answer.

“What are yours?”

“I don’t want anything serious. You understand that?” He strokes my cheek as he says it as if to soften the blow. He’s clearly had this conversation before with other women. He’ll figure out I’m not like them soon enough.

“Completely.”

“Are you on the pill?”

“Yes.” I laugh. “Are we going to fuck now or keep playing 20 questions?” I slide my hand down to the button on his pants. He laughs too, pausing as he bites his bottom lip.

“What are your thoughts on cuddling?”

“Hell no.”

“My kinda girl.” He whispers then closes the gap between our faces.

His lips on mine create an explosion that rocks me to my core. I exhale into his mouth in a moan. He runs his hand through my hair then down my body. It wraps around my waist and he lifts, practically tossing me up onto the hotel desk. The lamp shade rattles against the wall. His hands come to my shirt, lifting. Our lips part for a moment, then reconnect with tongues. Wetness pools in my panties, almost soaking them through.

One of his hands comes up to my breast, squeezing it, then finding my nipple and thumbing it over my bra. I sigh happily into his mouth, then fist his shirt in my hand. His shirt joins mine on the floor, then I reach for the button on his pants. It snaps apart easily. I jerk his zipper down until it’s completely open. His cock is hot and seeping in his underwear. I pull back from his mouth, looking down as he unclasps my bra. The straps slack along my arms. He pulls them the rest of the way off, then takes me in.

“Beautiful.” He mumbles, tugging my hips so I slide closer to him on the desk top. “So, so beautiful.” He repeats against the warm skin of my chest. His lips kiss down vertically, until he gets to a tight nipple. He makes eye contact with me as he sucks it into his mouth. His tongue strokes upwards too, making my jaw unhinge for a moment. “You had so much to say earlier, now you’re quiet? Gonna have to change that.” He whispers, then sucks my nipple deep into his mouth, working it over, sending darts of pleasure to my clit. It aches to be touched, missing out on his skilled mouth and fingers.

“Oh.” I pant. He smirks into my breast.

My fingers find the waistband of his underwear, tugging it back from his skin so his cock rises to rest on his belly. His red tip is oozing down the edge of his head. I bite my lip, then my head knocks back into the lamp as his tongue strokes my other nipple into submission.

Fuck, this is incredible. He knows exactly what he is doing. When to push, when to pull away, how to tease and reward. He will be worth any future punishment. My hands shove at the waistbands of his bottom layers until they work down his strong hips. He steps out of them, grabbing a condom in his jean pocket, then kicks them off to the side. I lean back on one palm grinning. He lets me take him in, every delicious curve and edge of his muscular body made perfect from hockey and hard work. His big hands cup my breasts, rolling his thumbs over the stiff peaks in unison.

“Oh that feels sooo good.” I moan appreciatively. I run my free hand through my hair. He watches my face, playing with me more until I am embarrassingly close to coming without him even being inside of me. “I need you to fill me up.”I demand breathlessly. He bites his lip.

“You’re so fucking sexy. You can tell me what to do all night, Emma.”

“Just call me Em.” I laugh. “Emma is so formal.”

“Whatever you want, babe.”

He unbuttons my jeans, then pulls them off my legs. He admires my black, lace panties, seeing the creamy wetness pooling there just for him, then he works them off my body so we are both naked. He picks me up, setting me to the very edge of the desk, then he hands me the condom. I rip the package open with my teeth, gripping the tip, before easing it down his shaft. His eyes close and he sways slightly forward at my hands on him.

He crowds my space, our breath combining together, still smelling like the minimal alcohol we had tonight. One hand goes to my left hip, then the other goes to grip his shaft. He rolls his head through my folds, collecting my soaking juices before he nestles his head at my entrance. Together, we watch him disappear between my swollen lips. He lets out a shaky exhale. He grabs my wrists, putting them on his shoulders, then he lifts me slightly up off the desk, beginning to pump into my pussy.

Tingling explosions burst out down my body. Gooseflesh covers my arms and legs as I take each hard thrust with enthusiastic greed. I kiss along his jaw, grinning at the way I jerk in his arms with each pump. He isn’t handling me like a fragile doll, he is fucking me just like I knew he would. Hard, fast, deep, showing he was built with power and strength for a reason.

“Fuck, Em, your pussy is so good.” He growls into my neck. The sound of skin slapping together increases, becoming disgustingly obvious in the room as he rocks hard into me. “So wet and tight.” He hisses through gritted teeth. My nose bumps into his jaw as I moan on his throat. He turns his face, capturing my lips then fucking up harder and faster into me. My whole body goes tight and rigid, then I fall into my orgasm. Timo fucks me through it, not wavering in his thrusts at all until I collapse onto his chest in surrender. He slows then, kissing my neck as he takes me to the bed. He lays me down, then work himself out of me. I look down at the condom, wondering if we are done.

“Your turn. Show me what you got, Hischier.” I laugh loudly. He sits down on the bed, then falls backwards. He takes my hand in one of his, fingers folding together, helping me maneuver to straddle his lap. I work my hair to one side, then reach behind me to grab his cock in my hand. He hums, then sighs happily as I swallow him whole in one press of my hips. Timo’s eyes literally roll back into his head as I start to move. His hands come behind his head fingers lacing together on the pillow below.

“That’s right. Just lay there princess.” I smirk, throwing my hips back on his cock.

“Funny… gorgeous… talented… where has Nico been hiding you?”

“Practically under your nose.”

“Ah, that’s why I didn’t see it. It’s a little big.” I giggle, then set my hands on his shoulders, rolling my hips.

“Ooo. You know how to fuck.” He praises me. “So good….” He bites his lip, exhaling heavily. “Little more, gorgeous.” He encourages. I comply and he groans. “Mmmm.” His hands snap away from the back of his head. He grips my hips, feeling the roll of them on him. Then two fingers find my clit. I shutter. His other hand comes to my breast, pinching my nipple. “Fuck me until you cum.” He whispers. I moan shakily, then keep bucking my hips down into him. When he senses I am about to release, he works his hips up in little thrusts to help me over the edge.

“Oh!” I cry out, pinching my other nipple.

He gently eases me down, pulling his feet up closer to his butt so his thighs create support for my back. I slump into them. I pant, looking at him on the pillow as he smirks.

“Shit.” I hiss as he forces his cock up deep into me, lifting my weight with his hips like it’s nothing.

“Doggy?” He asks, wiggling his large eyebrows. I nod eagerly.

I’ve never come so hard or had so much fun with a one night stand before. Usually, it’s awkward, bumping into each other and trying to find the right tempo. Not with Timo. It truly feels like we were made for each other. Gone is the insecure way I try to move my body so my partner can see the best angles. Usually, I stay away from doggy. But I am desperate to feel the hard slapping of his balls against my clit.

We both stand. Timo kisses me, tongues flirting within my mouth. Our lips are puffy and red by the time we pull apart. He twists my hips, working his cock between my legs as I bend over in front of him. He lines his latex covered head with my entrance, then pulls me back on his dick. We both groan loudly this time, appreciating the stretch and arousal of each other.

“Gonna be dreaming about this pussy tonight.” He groans, starting to buck his hips again. The delicious slapping has me deliriously groping the bed sheets. His thick cock crams into me thrust after thrust, feeling like he is rearranging my internal organs. A big hand comes to the back of my neck, forcing me down. I groan loudly, shrieking an inhale at how good this angle feels.

“Please.” I hear myself beg.

“Please what, baby?”

“Please make me cum. Please. More. Um! That! Yeah!” I yelp out as his hips snap harder into me. My ass shakes with his powerful thrusts. I turn my face into the comforter, then scream hard into it as a powerful orgasm grips my core and turns me inside out.

“Fuck… I’m gonna cum. Feels so fucking good when you cum.” I shake against his thighs as he finishes in the condom. His hand releases from the back of my neck. He grips the edge of the condom then works his way out of me. Wordlessly, he heads to the bathroom, striping himself and cleaning off. I collapse forward into the bed sheets, curling into the fetal position while my heavy breathing continues. Timo brings a towel back with him, tossing it to me. Afterwards, I throw it onto the floor while he lays back next to me in bed.

“Good job.” I murmur, holding my hand up. He slaps it firmly, then sighs happily.

“That was amazing.” He turns to look at me when he says it. I nod, meeting his gaze. “Any chance you’re available for more of that this summer?”

“No strings?”

“No strings.” He agrees.

“Then yeah. I’m available.” He chuckles.

“We make a good team, tho. Damn.” He rubs a hand over his head. He turns his wrist, looking at the time on his expensive, silver watch. “I gotta go. It’s almost curfew.”

“Yeah, I want to go to sleep.” I admit, stretching out, pushing at his thigh under the covers to move him off the bed. He dramatically rolls off like I kicked him full on. I giggle as he rests his chin on the bed from the floor. His blue eyes soak me up. His hand comes up, poking at my left cheek.

“Your dimples are cute.”

“Thank you.” I murmur.

“How long are you here?”

“Wanna see me again already?” He laughs.

“Yeah. Sex that great is rare. I want you again tomorrow.” Butterflies erupt in my stomach. I roll my bottom lip in my mouth, watching him pull his clothes back on. His last article is the Team Switzerland sweatshirt he zips up to the middle of his chest.

“Okay.” I agree. He smiles gently, then walks towards me.

He kneels one knee on the bed, hovering over the body he wrecked tonight. He kisses me quick, then pulls away. He smells seductive and sultry, like his expensive cologne and me.

“Sweet dreams.” He whispers.

“Goodnight.” I respond. He walks out of the room, closing the door softly during his exit.

I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling above me. The butterflies in my stomach expand up into my chest until it feels crammed full. I put my hand over my face, watching back the reel of the night against my black eyelids, ending with the mutual agreement of more.

More this weekend. More even this off-season too. More, more, more because it will be months before I will have had my fill of him.

I’m not sure how we will make it all work. Sneaking around once is one thing, but doing it continuously is another.

I guess this planner is going to have to figure it out.

Because It’s going to be a long, hot summer with Timo Meier.

More Timo and Emma can be found here.

#tm: loving & leaving #Timo Meier x oc #timo meier smut #Timo Meier imagine #hockey fan fiction #nhl fan fiction

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