#joel edmundson fic

[senditcolton]

It Would've Been Sweet...

...if it could've been me.

summary: there was no good reason for you to be in TD Garden during a Game 7 Stanley Cup Final Game. especially when the only connection you had to the sport was your ex-boyfriend Joel Edmundson, who you had left in St. Louis six months ago. but here you were. what were you doing here? a/n: hello friends! if you've been here since the inception of this blog, you might recognize this story. however, I no longer write for the original player that starred in this fic. but I am very proud of this fic plus, I think this was the start of my trademark bittersweet endings, so i couldn't just let it disappear. so, here is another rewrite now starring my favorite crop top king who i miss terribly. song inspo: The 1 by Taylor Swift word count: 8.8k warnings: time jumps [past is in italics], argument scene, language, angst with a bittersweet ending

What were you doing here?

That was the question running on loop through your mind as your eyes stay glued to the ice a few dozen feet below. There was absolutely no reason for you to step foot in this arena. There was no good reason why you shouldn’t be in your studio apartment on Newbury Street right now, curled up under your blankets, watching re-runs of bad reality TV.

When you received a text earlier that day from an old friend, asking if you had any plans, you knew what she was going to propose. You had seen the news. You had felt the energy go up in this east coast sports city. And you knew why your friend – a friend who you hadn’t seen since you moved 1,200 miles across the country – was in the city you now called home and had asked you to join her at this place on this night of all nights.

You knew all of this and could list all the reasons why you shouldn’t have responded; why you should’ve ghosted her like you had everyone else you left in St. Louis. But despite all that, you texted her back.

That was how you found yourself sitting in a clubhouse suite in TD Garden, trying desperately to only focus on the black and yellow jerseys of the Boston Bruins zipping around the ice.

Trying not to look over at the other end of the rink. Trying not to look at the white jerseys with blue and gold detailing. Trying not to scan the sea of players for the one person you should’ve forgotten by now.

Trying not to have your eyes land on the number six emblazoned on your ex-boyfriend’s back.

What were you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.

But we were something, don’t you think so?

“You shouldn’t be here.”

The unfamiliar voice sounding from behind you tears you out of the peace you were taking in the quiet kitchen, causing you to spin around. You were ready to tell whoever it was off, ready to confront the person who was so bold as to say where you did and did not belong. However, the face that greets you, the owner of the voice, is not what you expected.

His head of chestnut brown curls was messy, his stunning hazel eyes sparkling as they rake up and down your body and his lips, surrounded by a light scruff, were twisted up into a small smirk. He was cute. Like, really cute. It also didn’t hurt that he was clad in swim trunks and a t-shirt that was cut short, exposing his muscular midriff.

You tighten your hand around the beer bottle you were holding as you lean back against counter, your face shifting from annoyance to mirror his casual bright expression.

“And why is that?” you ask, taking a small sip.

“Because,” this stranger starts, “this is Dunner’s party. And the Dunner I know would have never invited someone so gorgeous to his house and without hanging over her shoulder the entire time.”

You let out a light laugh, the compliment not escaping your notice.

“Oh really? How do you even know I was invited by Vince? Maybe I snuck into my neighbor’s house in the hopes of meeting a hot single man. Maybe this is the first step in my evil plan to make a professional hockey player to fall madly in love with me.”

“And how is that working out for you?”

“You tell me.”

The man in front of you lets out a big laugh, causing a genuine smile to grace your face. You liked the sound of it, the sight of his head being thrown back, his smile so bright it almost blinded you. He looked back at you, the grin still on his lips.

You hold out your hand to him, giving this stranger your name as an introduction and hoping he sees your somewhat formal greeting as an awkward indication of your interest. He gladly takes your hand in his, shaking it gently as he gives you his name in return.

“Joel.”

You two stand there for a moment longer, simply looking at each other and you are trying not to focus on the warmth of his palm and the energy that seems to be flowing between you.

“So, why are you here?” he asks, dropping his hand from yours and you try not to let your face fall in disappointment at the loss of his touch.

“My friend invited me,” you say, gesturing towards the crowd of people in backyard. “What you said earlier – that Vince would be draped over some gorgeous girl – you are right about that. It’s just that my friend Daphne is who Vince is attached to.”

Joel hums and softly nods hid head in understanding. He walks a few steps until he is resting his body against the counter right next to you, his arm slightly brushing the bare skin of your own.

“Okay, so that’s the reason why you’re at this party. But, why are you here?” he asks, lightly gesturing around the empty room before glancing over to you. You sigh, looking out the large glass windows facing the backyard, watching the rest of the party mingle on the grass or splash in the pool, their laughter dancing on the late summer breeze. And here you were, hiding in the kitchen.

“I thought it would be fun. Not sure if I was right,” you explain, your hands going to fiddle with the loose corner of the beer label. “But Daphne is always trying to get me to go out with her.”

“Why don’t you?”

“It just really isn’t my scene. I did the whole party life thing in college and now, it’s just kind of lost its appeal.”

Joel lets out another hum, his eyes focused on you. He glances back at his teammates, acting loud and rambunctious as always. It was a lot to take in, he realized, especially if you weren’t exposed to it for over half the year like he was. He looks back at you, your fingers still fidgeting with the damp paper, your eyes far away.

You were beautiful. The thought was in Joel’s head before he could even process what it meant. And he knew instantly that he didn’t want to see you worried, that he wanted to see you smile again.

“So, you aren’t trying to get an attractive, wealthy hockey player to fall in love with you?”

You let out a laugh, your eyes connecting with his once again. The sparkle in his irises tells you he is joking with you, trying to make you feel comfortable. But there is also another emotion behind it. You can see it trying to swim to the surface, a desire that hadn’t been directed your way in a long time.

“Well, never say never,” you quip back. “Do you happen to know someone who would be willing to be infatuated with me?”

Joel tilts his head back, his hand going to stroke the facial hair on his chin, pretending to be deep in thought.

“There is this one guy…” he starts, trailing off to catch your reaction. You turn towards him, the playful smile still on your face.

“He plays on the same team as Dunner. He’s also defenseman as well, number 6. A decent hockey player. Funny, chill, and pretty good-looking, if I do say so myself.”

You hum in thought, your fingers tapping a small rhythm against the top of the marble island before nonchalantly shrugging your shoulders.

“He seems promising. Do you think he would like me?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Joel replies almost instantaneously, causing a small giggle to fall from your lips.

“Well then, point me in his direction!” you declare, catching Joel smiling at you out of the corner of your eye. “The next step would be to trip dramatically and fall into the pool, which will cause him to dive in after me to save my life. That is where our romance will begin!” you continue, throwing out your hands for additional affect.

“Or…” he says, gently grabbing your hand out of the air, his thumb brushing against the soft skin. “I could just give you his phone number. It might save you some time. And bodily harm.”

You smile, jolts of electricity racing through you from his touch.

“I suppose that works too.”

In my defense, I have none for digging up the grave another time.

“Hey, are you alright?”

You hear Daphne’s voice next to you and you finally tear your gaze away from the ice. She is staring at you, a hint of genuine concern in her eyes. The light-washed blue denim of her jacket stands out in the sea of black and gold and you spy the number 29 proudly displayed on her shoulder. Somehow, the sight of it makes you feel self-conscious that you’re only wearing an oversized grey sweater with a small Blues logo over the left breast. But then again, what else should you be wearing?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, shaking your head, trying to erase the fantasy of you wearing a customized jacket out of your brain. “It just feels a little weird to be here, that’s all.”

Daphne turns to look around the box, all the other Better Halves excitedly talking and mingling. A few had come over to greet you, almost to welcome you back into the chosen sisterhood that developed between you all. But they knew it was only for one night.

Anyone could see how messed up this situation was; you coming to the biggest game of your ex-boyfriends’ career, hanging out with the ladies that you had grown close to in those six months you and Joel were together. Willingly placing yourself into this moment, as if nothing happened.

As if there was no break-up, as if you didn’t move halfway across the country and ghost all of them just to avoid anything that would remind you of his smile, his hazel eyes, his contagious laughter.  

Daphne sighs as she returns her gaze to you, your chin resting in your upturned palm, your eyes now focused on the giant screen hanging above the ice.

“You didn’t have to come, you know. Not that I don’t want you here,” she quickly backtracks. “I’m so happy you’re here. I missed you. We all missed you, trust me. But, you know, if it gets to be too much, you don’t have to stay. Everyone would understand.”

“Why would I turn down the opportunity to see a Stanley Cup Final game? Especially a Game 7.”

Daphne looks at you, a disapproving glint in her eyes. She knows that you’re trying to make light of the situation, make it a joke, and ignore the real reason you said yes. She knows exactly what made you agree to come meet her after months, even if you weren’t ready to admit it to yourself. And it sure as hell wasn’t a free ticket.

She turns away from you, her eyes following your gaze to the now pristine and empty rink. The lights dim and the roar from the hometown crowd goes up. But the sound and the energy buzzing through the stadium wasn’t enough to stop you from hearing Daphne’s last spoken words.

“He would be happy to know you’re here.”

You look down at the ice as the players step out, now allowing yourself to find the one person that you refused to acknowledge since you stepped foot in the arena.

“I’m not so sure about that.”

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve shown.

He was late. Again.

You sigh, as you continue to pace around your kitchen, your heels clicking gently on the tile floor. It had been almost two hours since Joel was supposed to pick you up for a date. But instead of sitting in an upscale restaurant, drinking good wine and eating decadent meals, you were left waiting in your best dress, watching the hands on the clock circle.

Although, you weren’t sure why you were still waiting.

The reservations you two had were definitely cancelled by now and at this point in the night, it was too late to even think about doing anything other than lying in your bed, watching whatever was airing on The Game Show Network until you fell asleep.

But you stayed, hoping that your boyfriend would walk through the door. Because you were pissed. You wanted to make him feel guilty for leaving you stranded like this. It wasn’t healthy – you knew that – but you weren’t sure what else to do. Lately, it seemed like Joel was more interested in… well, anything that wasn’t you.

When you two first started dating, it was like something out of a cheesy rom-com. He was attentive and caring and you had honestly never felt more loved. But before you knew it, the fire between you two started to dwindle.

In the back of your mind, you knew it was coming. Everyone talked about the honeymoon phase and its inevitable end. You just weren’t prepared for it to end when it did.

It also didn’t help that that conclusion of that lavender haze just happened to coincide with the St. Louis Blues’ worst losing streak, landing them in last place, not just in the division or the conference, but within the entire league. And the playoffs were just over the horizon.

Glancing back at the clock, you sigh. You are ready to give up, call it quits and change back into your comfy old sweatpants when you hear the doorknob turn. Your boyfriend’s laughter echoes around your apartment, the voices of Colton and Robert also filling the quiet evening.

You exit the kitchen and walk into the living room, your eyes landing on Joel, his arms slung over Colton and Robert Bortuzzo’s shoulders respectively. He doesn’t notice you at first, his eyes focused down as he attempts to kick off his shoes. You cross your arms and clear your throat and it is that noise that brings his attention up to you.

“Babe!” he shouts, his face flushed and eyes hazy.

“Hey,” Colton greets you as he supports his teammate’s weight. “Sorry, he got drunk tonight. We tried to take him home but he insisted we bring him here.”

You let out a small hum, the anger boiling in your stomach as you take in Joel’s inebriated state. Instead of moving toward him, fawning over him or laughing at him like you normally would, your feet stay glued to the floor. Out of the corner of your eye, you see both Colton and Robert look you up and down, taking in your dress and heels. The tense atmosphere is palpable and not even Joel’s incoherent babbling can stop them from realizing that the drunken man between them had royally fucked up.

You let out a heavy sigh, gritting your teeth, your body sinking in defeat. This was not the situation that you had planned for the night and you had half a mind to throw him out. However, you were never the one to cause a scene and you weren’t about to get into it with Joel when he probably couldn’t even walk straight, let alone think straight.

“You can take him to the guest bedroom,” you say. “Down the hall to the left.”

You can almost feel the relief that came off in waves from Robert and Colton as they started to half walk, half drag Joel down the hall, you following close behind. Joel didn’t seem to understand anything happening around him until they guided him towards the guest bedroom and away from yours.

“Wait, where are we going?” he mumbled, trying to move his body back in the direction of your bedroom. “This isn’t the way to bed, guys. And I should know. I’ve been there a bunch of times.”

You fight back the urge to scream at Joel’s not-so-subtle innuendo, already feeling embarrassed about the situation he had put you in. Instead, you help shove him onto the mattress of the guest bed, watching as your boyfriend flounders against the covers. Joel tries to lift himself up but both Robert and Colton push him back. His eyes dart from his friends over to you, those hazel irises wide as he looks up at you like a neglected puppy dog. It takes all your effort to keep your icy demeanor.

“Babe, why can’t I sleep in your bed?”

“I don’t want you puking all over my sheets,” you say cooly, even though everyone else in the room knew the real reason why he was being banished to the guest bedroom. Joel doesn’t notice your coldness and instead shoots a goofy grin in your direction, his head hitting the pillow, curls flying wildly as he mumbles that he promises not to. You roll your eyes, having heard enough of his so-called promises in the past few weeks.

Robert clears his throat and you turn to him and Colton, awkwardly standing in the room next to you. You sigh, walking away from Joel and leading them out into the hallway and back to your front door.

“Thanks for getting him here safe boys,” you say, holding the door open for them as they walk over the threshold and out into the hallway.

“Of course,” Colton says, shooting you a sympathetic smile. You start to close the door but just before it shuts completely, you hear the small chirp that leaves Robert’s lips.

“Not sure how safe he’s going to be in there.”

You fasten the lock on your front door before you let your head fall forward, gently hitting your forehead against the wood, the anger still radiating from your tense body. Bortz doesn’t know how right he is. To say you are livid is the understatement of the year. You want nothing more than to tear Joel a new one but you know that doing that now would be pointless.

So instead, you take a few deep breaths in through your nose and out your mouth. Then you turn back into the kitchen and grab a glass, filling it with cold water from the Brita filter in your fridge. After grabbing the small case of Tylenol from your purse, you wander back to the guest bedroom.  

Joel is curled up on the bed, still completely dressed except for the shoes that he managed to remove at your front door. You hate the way your heart softens as you take in his sleeping face, his lips slightly parted and his curls wild against the pillowcase. Moving over to the nightstand, you place the glass of water and aspirin down and move to leave when Joel reaches out and manages to grab your hand. You look down at him, his eyes now half opened and his thumb gently caressing the skin on your wrist.

“Come to bed,” he mumbles, slightly tugging you towards him. You gently remove your hand from his grasp and take a few steps back from him.

“Not tonight.”

You reach the threshold of the room, ready to leave when you hear Joel’s voice call your name and you turn your body, your eyes connecting with his.

“You look really pretty,” he murmurs.

Normally, a smile would tug at the corner of your lips in response to his compliment. But your face stays frozen in its apathy as you watch Joel’s eyes close once more. You are silent as you push yourself out the door and walk into the peace of your own bedroom. It isn’t until you are curled under the covers, your dress exchanged for pajamas and your face scrubbed free of makeup, do the tears finally start to fall.

In my defense, I have none for never leaving well enough alone.

Everything about this situation was stressing you out.

The hockey fan in you was stressed because you had just sat through 20 excruciating minutes of the Blues getting almost no time in the offensive zone and you practically screamed every time Jordan was forced to make a save.

The other part of you was stressed because you weren’t sure if you were allowed to be this worried about the boys.

It was still true that you cared about the team and wanted nothing more than for them to win this. You wanted to hug Devon and Dayna when Jay scored a goal that deflected off Ryan’s stick, getting the Blues on the board first. You wanted to scream and jump with Jayne when Alex scored in the last 10 seconds of the first period. And you definitely felt the thrum of pride run through you when Joel laid down in front of a shot by Sean Kuraly, potentially preventing a Bruins goal.

But it felt almost wrong to care this much.

The only reason you got into hockey was because of Joel. You learned the game for him, cheered for him, celebrated every win and mourned every loss. With him. And now, you were no longer his.

It wasn’t right for you to act like you were still a member of this group. Because you would just be lying to yourself. And it would just make it that much harder to leave.

You couldn’t let yourself fall into that comfortable complacency, pretending that everything was alright. That everything was different.

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

You woke up, your heart heavy and your eyes puffy. It took a moment to shake off the groggy haze that hung over you, to remember the reason why your heart felt like it had gone five rounds in a boxing ring, but eventually, the events of last night came flooding back to you.

The sound of the clock ticking on the wall. Your feet aching in your heels. Joel’s slurred words. The way his hand felt intwined in yours. Your tears falling onto the pillowcase.

You didn’t want to face him but he was in your apartment, sleeping a few doors down from you. There wasn’t no way to avoid the inevitable confrontation.  With a huff of breath, you raise yourself from your bed, the sheets falling from your body, your bare feet connect with the cold hardwood floor.

You quietly open the door and walk down the hall, ignoring the urge to walk into the guest bedroom and check on Joel. Instead, you pad into your kitchen and start to make your morning cup of coffee. It is when you are standing in front of the machine watching your mug fill, do you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

“Mornin’” you hear Joel mumble into your shoulder as his lips press against your bare skin. Every fiber of your body wants to melt into his embrace but you resist, choosing instead to shrug yourself out of his grasp. You take your mug from the machine and walk over to one of the stools at the end of your island, sitting down so your body faces him. You take a small sip, still not acknowledging Joel standing stunned in the place you left him.

“Babe?” His questioning voice causes you to look up and you can feel a flare of anger appear at the sight of his confused expression painted on his face. “Did I do something wrong?”

His ignorant question is the breaking point and you practically slam your mug onto the cold marble in front of you, some of the hot liquid sloshing over the side. Your eyes connect with his as the vindictive rage you had been holding in for almost twelve hours finally starts to pour out of you.

“Do you really have to ask that Joel?” you spit out, not even attempting to hide the pure venom in your voice. “Let’s start with the fact that last night, I spent almost two hours waiting for you in this goddamn kitchen. Do you remember why? It was because we had a date. You were supposed to pick me up and we were supposed to go out to that cute little bistro by the river.”

You see his eyes widen as he takes in the information, remembering the plans that the two of you had. His reaction makes your wrath feel righteous. Joel’s mouth opens as if to say something, perhaps an apology, but you cut him off before he can even utter a sound.

“And then, the moment I was about to call it quits, to give up and go to bed and call you in the morning, after trying to call you multiple times that night, what happens? You come stumbling into my house, practically being carried by Parayko and Bortuzzo. So, instead of spending a beautiful night with your girlfriend, you decided to what? Get drunk with your friends? And then insist that they bring you here so I can take care of you?”

“Babe I’m so sorry, I –” Joel starts to say but you stop him.

“I’m not your maid, or you mother, or your fucking side-chick, Joel. I’m your girlfriend. I am not some shiny thing that you can play with when you get bored and then toss to the side when something new catches your interest.”

You see his eyes darken at your words and Joel takes two long strides over to where you were sitting.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he grits out, now towering over you. In any other situation, you might shrink and back down, always the mediator. But this time, you are just too livid to care.

“What it means is if you want me, you need to start giving a shit about me. That means keeping your promises and showing up when I fucking ask you to.”

“I’m sorry, alright. Is that what you want to hear?” he says, his voice raising in frustration.

“I want to hear why you chose getting shit-faced with your friends over picking me up for the date we had planned for weeks.”

“Jesus, it slipped my mind. We were just hanging out and Bortz suggested we drink and it just got out of hand. We were all stressed about the team and it just seemed like the best thing to do. You understand that we are in last place!? If we don’t start winning games, we can kiss any chance of the playoffs goodbye. Part of my fucking job is to try and fix that, but I can’t do that when you are demanding all of my attention.”

Your mouth drops open, a scoff leaving your lips as your brain registers Joel’s accusation.

“Excuse me? I’m demanding all of your attention? I’m not the one who showed up drunk on the doorstep, begging to be coddled like a child.”

“Oh, get over it. I showed up, didn’t I? I remembered you. You know how many girls I could get, how many are lurking in my DM’s waiting for their chance. You’re lucky that even though I was drunk, I didn’t run to one of them. Although, maybe I should’ve. They would’ve taken care of me and they definitely wouldn’t be busting my balls right now.”

His words take you aback, cutting through you down to your core and you can feel the sting of tears in the corner of your eyes. Joel knew all your insecurities and here he was, using that knowledge to hurt you deeper than anyone else could.

“Get. The fuck. Out of my house,” you grit out, your chest heaving as you try to control your breathing. Your voice is quiet but hard as you stare down the man in front of you. Although you will for it not to happen, a tear escapes you, rolling down your cheek and you see Joel’s eye dart to it, the color draining from his face as he realizes what he’s said.

“Fuck, baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it, I swear,” he babbles, dropping to his knees in front of you, reaching for your hands. You rip them away from his grasp and let the floodgates open. The tears flow freely now and the hurt that had settled in your sternum tickles up your throat.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t you dare imply that the girls in your DM’s care more about you than I do. They’re not the ones who make your pre-game meals and drive you to practice and let you rant about anything: trade rumors or ice times or bullshit calls. They don’t give a fuck about you, Joel. All they care about is your looks and the price tag attached to your name. But fine. If you want someone who’s only good for a night, someone who’s not going to tie you down and hold you accountable and challenge you while still caring about you and loving you… then we’re done. Now there’s nothing stopping you from getting what you want.”

You lift yourself off the stool and walk back towards your bedroom, leaving Joel kneeling on the floor. The door latches behind you and you wait. For what, you aren’t entirely sure. It’s only after you hear the echoing of the front door shutting, do your knees give out and you drop to the ground, your sobs racking through your now empty apartment.

That is where you stay until you have no tears left, your energy completely drained. You are sure your heart has broken into a million little pieces and if someone were to cut you open, the crimson flood would pulse out, staining everything around you. But the worst part would be that it would beat out to the rhythm of one phrase, the one phrase that you had never said to anyone else;

I love you. I love you. I love you.

And if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.

You couldn’t do this.

Somehow you managed to sit through another period and every time Joel stepped out onto the ice, your eyes were glued to him. You watched as he continued to play his game, dumping pucks into the offensive zone, blocking shots, helping puck movement, setting up multiple opportunities for his teammates to score.

When you watched him on the ice, you understood why you fell for him. He was kind and unselfish. He wanted to help the team even if it didn’t mean any glory for him. That was the type of person he was.

And when the buzzer sounded signaling the end of the second period, you felt your heart reaching out to him as he exited down the tunnel towards the locker room.

You couldn’t do this.

You jump from your seat and push your way past the other Better Halves, out of the suite. It takes a while for you to find a semi-secluded staircase in the winding corridors of the club level but when you do, you sink onto the carpeted stairs, ready to hide for the rest of the game in your makeshift oasis. Your head falls into your upturned palms as you try to calm your breathing. You are so caught up your emotions that you don’t notice a body crouch down in front of you.

The soft call of your name bounces off the walls and you look up to lock eyes with Jayne Pietrangelo, a sympathetic expression painted on her face.

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to keep the tremble from your voice.

“Bullshit.”

The quiet conviction in her voice startles you at first but her steady gaze causes your walls to crumble. Before you can even blink, she has you wrapped in a hug, squeezing you tight as if she could make everything better by just holding you. You aren’t ashamed to say that is almost worked.

Jayne was one of the first people to welcome you into the group and you were pretty sure she thought that you and Joel were end game before that idea even crossed your mind. She became like a big sister to you and when you ended things with Joel, she was one of the few calls you picked up in the days after.

She lets you push your face into the denim jacket she was wearing as she gently strokes your hair. After you manage to compose yourself, she pulls back from you, forcing you to lock eyes with her.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she softly demands and you almost let out a laugh at her demeanor. Alex’s captain tendencies must have rubbed off on her because here she was, ready to coach you through anything.

“I just can’t do this,” you sigh out, your head shaking as your eyes dart to the ceiling.

“Can’t do what?”

“Be here. Watch him. I don’t belong here anymore.”

“Do you want to leave?”                                           

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

All Jayne does is let out a small hum as she comes to sit next to you. You two stay there in quiet contemplation, your mind racing a mile a minute as you wait for her to say something, anything that will make you feel better.

“I’m not going to stop you from leaving, if that’s what you want to do,” Jayne says, her eyes sliding over to connect with yours. “But I think you are ignoring the real question. Instead of asking yourself if you’re allowed to be here or if you even want to be here, you need to understand why you’re here. Why did you decide to come to a place where you knew you were going to re-live some painful memories? You knew what you were walking into and yet you still came.”

She turns to you, her hands reaching out to grip yours as she stares at you, her eyes cutting you open and laying out your soul like the pages of an old book.

“So, tell me. Why are you here?”

Her question rattles around your brain as you search for the answer. The lies are easy to think of, ready to fall from your lips: it’s a Stanley Cup Final game, you didn’t have anything else to do, Daphne asked you to come, you wanted to see all the girls again.

But you knew the real reason you said yes; the real reason you found an old oversized Blues sweatshirt in the back of your closet that still smelled faintly of cologne, the real reason you walked to TD Garden after spending months trying to forget about anything that reminded you of St. Louis. And he was sitting in a locker room a few dozen feet below you, with only 20 minutes left in a game that most players dreamed about, hoping that he would be able to hoist the greatest trophy in sports.

“I wanted to be here for him. Win or lose,” you say, the words still a little unsteady after being locked in your heart for six months. You take a deep breath and let yourself continue, allowing the confession you had been denying every time it appeared in your head fall from your lips.

“Because I love him. I still love him.”

Jayne says nothing for a few moments, letting your words hang in the air before she shoots you a gentle smile.

“That’s enough of a reason for you to stay.”

She gets up, holding out her hand to you. Looking up at her, you allow yourself to smile, the first genuine grin flooding your face. You take her hand and let her lift you off the staircase and lead you back to the suite where the rest of your friends were waiting.

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow.

You were a wreck since your fight with Joel. He had tried to call you multiple times but you let it go to voicemail every time. And as the days passed, the calls became less and less frequent until they stopped altogether.

A week later, you came home to find a small box sitting on your doorstep. Inside was all the things you had left at Joel’s place with a small note sitting on the top.

“I’m sorry.”

You had never cried more in your life than you did that evening.

After laying in your bed for hours on end, binge eating chocolate, and binge watching the same three TV shows, you finally decided it was time to stop wallowing in your sadness and try to move on. The next day, you cleared out everything in your house that reminded you of Joel and let yourself get lost in the effort of forgetting him.

It wasn’t easy.

You still sometimes woke up before the sun, your body telling you it was time to get Joel to practice. When you had a bad day, you found yourself making his favorite meal, as if his sadness had melded with yours. Whenever you turned on the news, you always managed to catch it in time to hear the sports section. You found yourself listening to how the Blues were winning again, pulling themselves out of last place and continually pushing themselves towards the playoffs. You resisted the urge to dial Joel’s number, still stored in your phone, and congratulate him after every win or console him after a loss.

As a distraction, you threw yourself into your work, getting tasks done at a breakneck speed and being more productive than you had ever been. You managed to have the best work quarter of your life and your reviews were through the roof. Although, you didn’t really take note of it because you weren’t trying to impress your boss or the company. You were simply trying to stop your mind from focusing on something else, like the feeling of freshly washed curls between your fingers and a smile that outshined the stars.

So, the day your boss called you into her office, the last thing you were expecting her was a promotion. And you certainly weren’t expecting to pack your things and move to Boston after accepting said promotion.

But part of you was relieved to be leaving. It would be much easier to forget about Joel in a city where most people didn’t even know his name. When you landed in Boston, you thought that this would be the place where everything you left behind would fade away.

And you were right. At least, for a few months.

You made new friends and went out to bars and brunches. You continued to work your ass off at your job, now working to prove yourself instead of just working to forget. You didn’t realize that Joel hadn’t even crossed your mind for a long time.

Then one night, when you were out dancing with friends, a handsome stranger pulled you into his lips. And it felt good. You felt free for the first time in a while, believing that your heart was finally mending after everything it had been through.

But that night, after you went home alone and crashed into your bed with your head pounding from the alcohol in your veins, you dreamt of Joel. Of him holding you tight and hearing his heartbeat pound in his chest.

You woke up the next day with the most exquisite ache in your chest and a desperate desire to be wrapped up in his arms once more. Then, when you were walking home from the grocery store that same day, you thought you saw him standing on the corner.

It wasn’t him, of course. But just the mere possibility of seeing him again had you almost dropping your bags onto the sidewalk and rushing into the arms of a complete stranger who just so happened to look like your ex-boyfriend.

That was the moment you knew you were fucked.

Soon, you found yourself turning on the TV, watching hockey games for the first time in months. And when the Bruins won the East and the Blues won the West, you realized that your two worlds were colliding. The world with Joel and the world after him were crashing together and you would be caught up in the carnage. But you were ready for it.

So, when you received a text message from Daphne, who you hadn’t spoken to since you left St. Louis, you answered it. And when she mentioned that Yana couldn’t make the games as she had just given birth to Vladi and hers second son, your heart waited for her to ask the question you hoped to hear. And when she asked if you wanted to come to Game 7 with her, the tug in your heart had made the decision long before you got the words out.

If one thing had been different, would everything be different today?

That was how you found yourself standing in the suite with all the other St. Louis Better Halves, watching as the final minutes of the final period counted down.

After Jayne pulled you back to the seats, you decided to let yourself go. No more holding back your emotions, no more resisting the feelings that had been churning inside you since you stepped foot in the arena. Instead, you screamed with the rest of the girls when Brayden scored another goal to put the Blues up three to nothing. You held breath, squeezing Daphne’s hand as you all watched Vince lead a three-man breakaway, silently praying for something good to come from that opportunity. And you jumped and hugged the girls when Zach scored a fourth goal with less than five minutes left.

And now, you were on your feet, one hand clasped in Daphne’s and the other clasped in Jayne’s, your heart pounding as you watched the clock on the scoreboard in front of you drop to seconds as the final minute of play began.

You could see the bench, the boys on their feet and as every second ticked by, they grew closer and closer to victory. Your eyes looked for Joel, wanting to memorize every minute of his reaction when the final buzzer sounded. It took you a little while to locate him in the crowd but once you did, your eyes never strayed from his body.

He was bouncing with excitement, the anticipation buzzing through him. You could see him slowly realize that this was going to happen, that he was going to be a Stanley Cup champion and when Jaden shoots the puck towards the blue line and it sails past Krejci, onto the other side of the rink, you watched him leap over the bench, throwing his gloves and stick into the air as he rushed to the goal, slamming into the pile of his teammates, all cheering because they finally, finally achieved what they had been working their whole life towards.

You almost collapse under the pure excitement rushing though you, the screams of the other girls echoing around the box and they celebrated. They were hugging and cheering but you kept your eyes on the ice, watching as the boys embraced each other. You felt tears welling in your eyes and it wasn’t until Jayne pulled you into a hug did you tear your focus away from the sweaty mop of curls.

“They did it!” she screamed and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. You hugged her back and found yourself going around to the other girls, who celebrated with you like nothing had changed. Because nothing had changed. Just because you weren’t with Joel didn’t mean that these girls weren’t your friends. You had become a part of their lives and you were ready to celebrate with them for as long as they would have you. You hoped that would be a long time.

Daphne held you tight as the two of you jumped up and down, screaming incoherently at the fact that this did indeed happen. That Vince was a Stanley Cup Champion. That Joel was a Stanley Cup Champion. That the St. Louis Blues were Stanley Cup Champions.

All the girls turned their attention to the ice as the Conn Smythe trophy was presented and you swore that almost everyone jumped into Dayna’s arms when Ryan’s name was announced over the loudspeaker. It was a few moments until finally, the Stanley Cup was carried out onto the ice. You watched the boys, lined up, arms wrapped around each other as they took in the trophy that was finally theirs.

And when Alex skated forward and hoisted the Cup over his head, you cheered louder than you had in your entire life.

You watched as the Cup made its way down the lineup, passing between players, each one of them unable to contain their excitement and joy. Daphne pulled you close when Vince had his turn, lifting it above him and you could see the tears in her eyes as she watched the man she loved celebrate. And she held you next to her when Joel finally got his hands on the Cup.

The joy in your heart was indescribable as you watched him carry the 35-pound trophy, cheering and pressing kisses to the silver metal. It was exactly the moment you had wanted for him since you first started dating. It was what you dreamed about at every home game, his name and number proudly displayed on your back. It was what you had hoped for when you watched him on your television for the previous six games of the finals. And it was everything you had wished for ever since you walked into TD Garden almost two hours ago.

The girls were moving, picking up their things and heading out of the box, presumably to go down to the ice to congratulate their men on a hard-fought victory. A wave of doubt settled over you and you shifted your weight between your feet, unsure if you should, or were even allowed, to go down with them. It wasn’t until Daphne grabbed one hand and Jayne grabbed the other did you start to move.

You all make your way down the corridors, pushing past people and flashing your security passes. Your heart rate increases once you reach the end of the tunnel. The lights were still shining bright, causing the ice to blind you as you step onto the rink. The three of you carefully shuffle across the ice, the atmosphere still electric with the energy buzzing off the players and staff.

Jayne was the first to break away from your group, running towards Alex who was currently being interviewed. You see the reporter notice Jayne hurrying over and give Alex a nudge in her direction. His face instantly brightens the moment he sees her and he skates over, embracing her.  

It wasn’t long before Vince spotted Daphne. As soon as his eyes land on her, he was rushing towards her and she dropped your hand to meet him halfway. You watch as he pulls her close to kiss her deeply, her hands tangling in his hair.

As happy as you were for all of them, both the players and your friends, their joy and intimacy left you feeling awkward as you stand alone in center ice. You weren’t exactly sure what you were supposed to be doing, if anything. While the girls welcomed you with open arms, you weren’t that close to the other players or staff. Most of them hadn’t seen you since you ended things with Joel.

It was when you caught the eye of Colton Parayko did you really feel like a deer in headlights.

Colton’s eyes flicker behind you, looking for Joel, wondering if he had seen you. Glancing back at you, he stood there a moment longer, taking you in. Then, that familiar crooked smile broke out on his face and the breath you didn’t know you had been holding rushed out of you. You mirrored his grin, your body relaxing as he gave you a small wave. You laughed and returned his gesture before he skated away, going to celebrate with his family.

His quiet reassurance was all you needed to feel certain that you were meant to be here.

You slowly spin, finally taking in the joy surrounding you, letting it soak into your skin. You watch Vladi sit on the edge of the rink as he calls Yana, see Laila walking over to Colton and see him wrap her into a giant hug, look over towards Patty lifting his son Anthony onto his shoulders, still shouting and pumping his fists in the air.

You were so caught up in enjoying the moment that you didn’t notice a pair of eyes attach to your frame. It wasn’t until you completed your circle did your gaze fall on Joel, his gaze already locked on you.

A towel was slung around his neck, the Stanley Cup Championship hat perched on his head. And he was staring at you as if he had seen a ghost. You were sure you looked the same way.

You both stand there, a few feet away, simply drinking in the sight of seeing one another in person for the first time in months.

You feel your heart swell as you take him in, the joy still emulating from his body. Words couldn’t describe how happy you were for him. Even if he was no longer a part of your life, you were happy to see him succeed. You wanted him to know that.

Part of you would always love him, that much you were certain of. But part of you knew that maybe you two just weren’t meant to be. And for the first time, that thought didn’t send a jolt of pain straight to your chest. Instead, you felt the warm wave of acceptance wash over you.

You let a small smile dance onto your face, connecting your eyes with his and silently sending all the care and admiration you had for him across the ice. And when you looked into his hazel eyes, the ones that you missed waking up to every morning, you let only one thought reverberate within your mind:

I love you.

And when he smiled back, his eyes sparkling like they always did, you knew that he was thinking the same thing.

But it would’ve been fun, if you would’ve been the one.

You had never felt happier than you did in this moment. The sky was a perfect blue above you, the sun shining on your bare skin, its light refracting off the soft waves on the lake.

You lean back, your feet gently kick in the water off the end of the boat and your eyes close as you let the peaceful contentment soak into your bones. You feel a form settle behind you, a pair of arms coming to wrap around your waist and pull you close. Eyes opening, you glance back to see Joel, a light sun-kissed hue now dusting his nose and cheekbones. A soft smile makes its way onto your lips, causing him to grin back at you.

“Hey pretty lady.”

“Hi,” you softly whisper out.

“What are you doing back here?” he asks, pulling you even closer, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You lean your head against him, taking a deep breath.

“Nothing. Just relaxing.”

Joel just hums in reply, letting the silence return as your bodies press against each other, simply supporting the other’s weight and taking in the moment.

When Joel mentioned his captain’s idea of taking a couple of boats out to Lincoln Lake with the team and their better halves for some bonding and relaxing before the season started and the hectic schedule pushed everyone in different directions, you had to admit you were unsure whether you should go. You had only just started dating Joel. But as soon as you made it out onto the water, you found yourself laughing with the other girls, as if you had known each other forever.

“I’m happy you decided to come,” you hear Joel mumble. And when you glance back, you can see the pure love pouring from his hazel irises. You let yourself lift your head up towards him, connecting your lips to his. You can smell the sunscreen on his skin, taste the rosé on his lips. Your fingers tangle into his sun-bleached curls, and in that moment, you realized that you never wanted to let him go. You pull away from him, your lips still gently upturned as you bring your eyes back to his.

“Of course I came. Where else would I be?”

taglist: @laurenairay @fallinallincurls @ sorlos-world @svexhenthusiast 

join my taglist here!

[ilyasorokinn]

los angeles kings

* = from a prompt list

quinton byfield !

blurbs,

✷ long distance is hard - quinton and y/n have been doing things long distance due to covid, but when restrictions are finally lifted, y/n surprises him. *

joel edmundson !

imagines,

✷ ‘tis the damn season - a fic based on "'tis the damn season" from taylor swift's evermore album. (from the “taylor’s version” series)

erik portillo !

blurbs,

✷ fuzzy handbands - erik, instead of going out, decides to spend the night in with his girlfriend.

alex turcotte !

imagines,

✷ brutal - a fic based on “brutal” from olivia rodrigo’s sour album. (part of the "sour” series)

blurbs,

✷ not too good - alex didn’t have a good morning, and all he wants to do is stay in and cuddle. *

[wips] [masterlists of masterlists ] [ taglist]

[wyattjohnston]

the title “sunburn” just sounds intriguing to me!!

-senditcolton

ooo so nicole i think you are the best person to have asked about this one!! @senditcolton

it's a joel edmundson fic based on a summer romance and its probably my favourite idea i've had recently, i just keep getting summer fic ideas at the end of the off season lmao

oh ALSO the actual important piece of info is that it's based on sunburn by kip moore lmao

but anyway!

this is possibly the best start to any fic i've ever written

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of a good bikini, must be in want of a summer romance. And Nora Ainsworth had no shortage of good bikinis.

i have a pinterest board (quickly got very large)

and then i got real extra and made this

here's the wip list

[dubious-writing]

thanks for the reassurance, but you really do have my sincerest apologies if that was a weird way to introduce myself 😅 i just think you’re really cool and i get nervous about approaching new people 😭

but anyway, hi, i’m dolly, any pronouns, and i came across you through square’s blog, and i think you’re awesome and all your fics are absolutely amazing and cool and super well-written, and i come bearing baked goods, friendship ( if you want, obvs totally cool if you don’t ), and also many thoughts about various silly hockey boys and how many of them have absolutely explored each other’s bodies.

anyways !! again, that was probably super awkward, sorry 😅 but the point is that i think you’re awesome and talented and i’d love to be friends if you’re down for that !! hope you’re doing well <3 <3

If you saw the way I’m in bed with too many stuffed animals right now, you would absolutely not think I was that cool.

But anyway, hello! You can call me Dubs (she/her)! Square, one of my beloveds, you have wonderful taste in mutuals!

I’m so happy you’ve enjoyed my fics!! You have no idea how much that means to me!!! I desperately hope to publish more one day, but I find myself unable to write at the moment, so right now i’m just crossing my fingers.

I also have so many thoughts about my various hockey boys. Did you know Sidney Crosby once almost choked to death on a mozzarella stick and his nickname was Creature in the late 00’s because his ass was too big to fit in a hotel armchair? Did you know there’s a video of Daniel Briere and Claude Giroux saying “I love you” to each other in German when they played in Europe during the last lockout (a video I was blessed enough to find only one time)? Did you know Joel Edmundson became known as the Croptop King in 2019 because he exclusively wore shirts-cut-into-croptops for about 2 weeks after winning the Cup? Did you know Eddie Lack had a big fat massive crush on his mentor Roberto Luongo when they both played for Vancouver over 10 years ago, a crush I would not be surprised to hear he still had? Did you know Pekka Rinne once put a collar on Juuse Saros in the Preds locker room after a win?

[horsesandhockeyplayers]

A Not So Southern Christmas, Part 1

This is obviously a rewrite of my old fic. I have been feeling romantic and Christmasy, so I figured it was time to bring back my favorite holiday couple. I found the header from @whatishockey!!

Synopsis: When Adelaide Thibodeaux finds her husband to be diddling the wedding planner in the Church before their nuptials, she walks out and is determined to take her dream honeymoon by herself. Until she gets a seat upgrade to first class and ends up next to Hurricanes Defenceman, Joel Edmundson. Holiday shenanigans ensue.

Author's Notes: This was written in early 2019 before Eddy went to Montreal as a free agent. I will be tagging both teams.

Part 1

Looking back on my relationship, there were a lot of red flags I ignored. Or maybe I was just naïve. Either way, it was five days before Christmas and I was starting my solo honeymoon in the tiniest airport known to man in Birmingham, Alabama. My cousin, the “travel agent”, had “given” me a deal on my honeymoon as her wedding gift, but I was beginning to suspect she didn’t own a damn globe because I was flying to North Carolina then to Winnipeg, and then onto the winter wonderland of Toronto, Canada.

The plane looked like it would lose a fight with a sparrow, but 30 people were going to board the thing. As someone that had never been on a plane, I was beginning to regret my gumption of marching out of the church and taking the limousine directly to the airport.

If you asked me, impulsivity was not a common trait among my people. I was Southern by blood, Southern by raisin’, Southern by livin’ and I wasn’t prone to rush anything and I enjoyed tradition as Southerners do. I picked at a hangnail with my teeth and resisted the urge to ruin the most expensive manicure I had ever had in my life.

A tinny version of Jingle Bells played in the terminal and I was tempted to turn tail and run home. My momma went hog wild for the holidays and our house usually looked like something right out of a Thomas Kinkaid painting. White fluff and tiny villages covered every surface, anything that could be wrapped in lights and garland was adorned and Daddy made sure you could see our house from space. It didn’t matter if it was 30 degrees or 80 on Christmas day (being Alabama, both were possible) we were having a baked ham with all the fixin’s.

There seemed to be two types of women in the South: Southern Belles with white gloves, pearls, and eyelashes that could bat for anyone, or TomBoys dressed in camo and boots. Any woman that fell into the inbetween was pigeonholed into one or the other. Despite the fact that I was 5’10” and closer to 200lbs than 150lbs, my momma always tried to turn me into a belle. Gymnastics, ballet, cloggin’, modern dance, pageants, cotillion of all things, were on my resume for a proper Southern Belle.

If I had let my mother dress me I would have been in a Chanel suit, tottering close to six foot in matching pumps, and a string of pearls around my neck. Dixiecrats were nothing if not predictable in their fashion sense. My own personal style was more “post menopausal writer” in leggin’s, drapey sweaters, and sensible flats (if I had to wear shoes at all).

Considering all I had as I sped away from the church was the suitcase I had packed for the honeymoon, I was looking festive in darkwash jeans, a sensible red blazer I had found in a consignment store over a green teeshirt from the Wal-Mart, and pair of comfortable silver flats that I had found at Payless Shoes for $12. My Christmas light earrings actually lit up with the push of a small button and I looked like Santa Claus’ long lost granddaughter. You know… if she had run away from her wedding and slept in an airport.

I had my hair up in a messy bun after leaving a small mountain of bobby pins in the back of the limousine, but the bangs that were last year’s bad decision didn’t quite make it and they fell around my face in unkempt waves.

My knees were currently jammed into the seat in front of me and I was pressed against the window trying to make myself as small as possible. My fear of the window falling out and being sucked out of the plane was now secondary to making sure I did not touch the sweaty, leering, overweight man who had jammed himself in the seat next to me and might have actually drooled when he blatantly stared at my breasts.

I was saved by the captain’s voice coming over the loudspeaker, “Good morning y’all, there’s a big ol’ storm comin’ down that’s gonna be coverin’ the better part of the Eastern half of the country, but we should be getting you into Charlotte on time to catch your connecting flights before she hits.”

My family was poor, but we weren’t rich either. My daddy owned the family hardware store in a small town outside of Tuscaloosa and my Momma was a professional homemaker that would have made Paula Deen and Martha Stewart weep with envy. We had enough to go on day trips, to pay for my sister and I to do all of our extracurriculars, but I had never been on a plane in my entire life and I was about to spend the next 57 minutes with my knees jammed to my chest while being squashed by the fattest, reddest, sweatiest man on the planet and I would bet my life savings he was some sort of shoe salesman, or a judge, or a small town sheriff or something.

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

When we landed in Charlotte, I sent a little prayer to the Universe for allowing me to live and for the one millionth time since climbing into that big car I thought about just going home. But that was what sensible me would have done and I was always sensible.

As we taxied to the terminal, I turned on my phone and the family group text started blowing up my phone.

Little Sister: Addie are you there yet? Did you live? Did the plane crash? I didn’t see anythin on Twitter.

Momma: Adelaide, I don’t understand dear, why are you leaving for Christmas? It was different When you and Daniel were going on your honeymoon and starting your own traditions. This is insane. Text us when you land. Adele said she didn’t see anythin’ on the Twitter App. I know this weddin’ didn’t go quite the way you were hopin’ but just come home.

Daddy: Girl, call us when you land and Canes won!

My phone was to my ear as the plane came to a stop and all 40 something passengers tried to stand at the same time with the exception of Chubby McPervert who didn’t move a muscle and fell asleep with his massive jowl to his chest.

“Hi Daddy, I landed. Yes, I’m going to catch my next flight. No, this one wasn’t bad.” It had in fact been horrible, but I wasn’t about to tell him about Chubby McPervert and his leering eyes. “I love y’all too. I’ll call y’all when I make it to Toronto, it will be really late. No it won’t cost a fortune, remember Adele and I taught you how to facetime using the WiFi. Yes, Daddy, we have to use that newfangled thingamabobber. I love you too.”

I hung up as people were starting to file off the place and Chubby McPervert still hadn’t gotten out of his seat and I needed to grab my carry on from the overhead bin. I swung my purse onto my other shoulder making sure it whipped right across his sleeping face and I put a look of abject horror on mine, “Oh mah gosh! I am SO sorry, This purse was a present from my Daddy so I can carry all my stuff and I just have not gotten used to this big ol’ thing!”

He grunted and finally got up. He apparently didn’t have a carry on and I stuck out my tongue at his retreating back to the amusement of the little boy seated behind me. Stepping into the narrow aisle and grabbing my little roller bag that contained all my toiletries and a few changes of clothes in case the airline lost my suitcase, I rolled after everyone else exiting the plane and entered the indoor city that was (to me) a large international airport.

The hustle and bustle of an airport right before Christmas was overwhelming and I looked for a place where I could get out of the way and get my bearings.

I found a pillar in front of a bank of screens framed in cheap tinsel garland that had a list of all the flights coming and going. To my dismay, it looked like a lot were already being cancelled due to the weather. When I finally found my flight, I was dismayed to see it was already delayed. I looked around the terminal for signs of where the gate might be and figured waiting there was as good as any place.

It took what felt like an hour to traverse the bustling airport and I was pretty sure I had walked to the next county.

The poor gal behind the counter looked harried as people checked into the flight and a lot of grumpy faces seemed to be aware of the delay. I waited patiently in line for my turn as she tried to find accommodations for people who needed to make connecting flights. Much to my chagrin, Chubby McPervert huffed up behind me and spent the next 20 minutes grumbling under his breath. When I finally got to the counter I set my giant purse on it, “Y’all look like y’all’ve had a DAY.”

She took a breath before answering, “I’m new, this is my first holiday.”

“Well take a breath, a drink of water, I gotta find my ticket on my phone anyway.”

She shot me a grateful look as Chubby McPervert made impatient huffy noises behind me. She clicked around on her computer and after a good minute I held out my phone feigning stupidity, “This is for this flight right?”

She smiled, “Yes it is.”

Chubby McPervert made another impatient huff. I wanted to tell him he sounded like the draft horses in the log pull at the county fair, but I didn’t, I just turned on the Southern Charm, “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, am I going too slow? I bet you’re in a big ol’ hurry to board a flight that’s been delayed.”

Turning back around, I made a note of the name etched on the little brass name tag as I reached over the counter with my hand and hoped the gal would follow my lead, “Bethany dear, how IS your momma doin’? I sent her a Christmas card last year and it was returned! Did she move?”

Bethany tried to hide her smirk as she caught onto my game, “You know we had to move her in with my brother last year, I’ll text you her new address.”

I made a sympathetic face, “Aw I am so sorry to hear that.”

She shook her head, “No, it’s good, after Daddy died she just couldn’t keep the farm all by herself. She fell and broke her hip, but she is doing great now. The grandkids can barely keep up with her!

She let go of my hand and passed my phone back to me, I gave her a wink and turned around with my cheeriest smile, “Bless your big ol’ heart for waiting while I caught up with my friend. I’m sure she will be happy to help you now!”

As I grabbed my purse, Bethany mouthed, “Thank you,” and I ventured into the waiting area to take a seat and wait for my delayed plane.

I was deep into a meditation podcast when I felt a tap on my shoulder, Bethany was bent over me, “Ms. Thibodeaux? Can I have you come up to the counter please?”

“Absolutely,” I answered, pulling my earphones out of my ears as I stood.

Setting my purse on top of my rolling carry on, I followed her to the counter. When she was back behind the computer she made a few taps, “Unfortunately, the gentleman behind you in line had to find an alternate flight, so we now have a first class seat available, would you like a free upgrade?”

A free upgrade into first class? I didn’t even know there was such a thing.

Bethany seemed to sense my hesitation, “There’s more legroom? You get to drink?”

She knew exactly what I needed. Bethany was like my secret Santa, “Well in that case, how can I say no?”

She gave me an updated paper ticket, “Your flight is about an hour out, enjoy!”

It was her turn to give me a wink and I was suddenly very grateful for my parents who taught me to treat everyone with respect and patience.

Returning to my seat to wait, I watched people exit a freshly landed plane, watched the cleaning crew get on, the switching of the pilots and attendants, the waiting area emptied as they started to board the plane like a herd of grumpy cattle and eventually it taxied away from the gate.

There was a duty free store across from where I was sitting and I idly wondered how many of those little gin bottles it would take to fill my water bottle and more importantly, how much it would cost. I finally decided, “Way too damn much,” and I was saved from a potentially bad decision by the loudspeaker announcing my flight. I blinked and noticed the waiting area had filled up again with weary holiday travelers and the flight was going to be very full as cancellations meant everyone was trying to get somewhere before the storm covered most of the US.

I got up, shrugging my purse onto my shoulder and grabbing the handle of my bag. I turned to walk around the bank of seats I was sitting in to avoid the gaggle of teenagers that had settled on the floors to take turns with the one available charging outlet, but was stopped as I smacked into a solid wall that I did not remember sitting next to.

Rebounding off the slab of granite, I tried to step back but the back of my knees hit my carry-on and they buckled. I felt myself losing my balance, before two large hands wrapped around my arms to steady me.

I would be the first to admit it was tough to date men when a woman happened to be nearly six feet tall and could be generously described as “curvy.” Dan had been almost two inches shorter than I was, and was one of the very few men who didn’t seem bothered by the fact I was bigger in every sense of the word. That is what I had believed, anyway, until I found him balls deep in our wedding planner who was all of five foot and 100lbs soaking wet.

The man I ran into, however, was much taller than Dan -- much taller than I was-- and it was a weird experience looking up into a man’s eyes instead of down. Not that I was complaining.

I felt my mouth open before I told it to and I knew stupid was going to come out, “Oh mah goodness you are handsome.” My drawl became more pronounced when I was nervous and I had a feeling I just went full ‘back in the holler down by the crick’ Southern.

He blushed, murmuring what had to be a thanks and let go of my arms, gesturing for me to walk in front of him. When I turned around the aisle between the banks of metal framed seats had cleared like a combine gone through a wheatfield.

Making my way to the gate, I could feel the man’s huge presence behind me and I realized for the first time, I was unsettled because he made me feel almost small. Adelaide Thibodeaux don’t you dare trip or make a fool of yourself more than you already have.

I scanned my ticket with my new seat assignment and headed down the gangway to a thankfully, much larger airplane than the first one. First class looked like having a king sized bed to myself after flying on what was essentially a deflating balloon next to the world’s sweatiest man. The seats were in pairs on either side of the aisle and even economy, which had three seats on either side, looked roomy comparatively.

My seat was smack in the middle of first class and I was by a window. I stopped and pushed the extendable handle down on my carry-on and before I could pick it up the man I had crashed into basically palmed the thing like it weighed no more than a feather and lifted it into the overhead bin, before putting in his own bag and laying his very nice coat on top of both of them.

I felt a flush the exact color of my blazer creep up my neck and into my cheeks. “Um thanks! Polite and handsome, my momma would love you.”

Adelaide Thibodeaux, what the actual flying fuck are the words coming out of your mouth?

I took my seat near the window and looked out at the workers throwing the luggage onto the plane, hoping the very tall, very handsome man would keep going and I would never see him again. Which would be disappointing, but quite alright since I apparently couldn’t control the verbal diarrhea around him and I wanted to sink directly through the plane to the ground below.

I was not that lucky; God didn’t seem to want to grant me any favors to avoid paralyzing embarrassment this day and I glanced up at the man who was about to sit next to me. From a different angle and finally focusing on his face, I immediately recognized him and I turned my face toward the window again to have a minor meltdown. I was about to spend the entire flight next to a Carolina Hurricane and I did not want to find out what incredibly stupid things could come out of my mouth in six whole hours.

When I looked back over and swallowed he gave me a funny look, suddenly the plane seemed even smaller than the one I arrived on. There may have been at least four inches between our arms, but it felt like nothing and I swear I could feel the heat of his body coming through his stylish sweater. The awkward silence stretched tight like a bungee cord and I knew when it finally snapped I was going to feel the lash.

He held out his hand, “Joel, and I’m sorry about putting my hands all over you, but I don’t make a habit of letting beautiful women fall to the floor.” His smile indicated he was anything but sorry.

In that moment, I wished his hands had been all over me. I cleared my throat and willed myself to say something normal, “Adelaide, and it’s no problem, hot hockey players catch me in airports all the time.”

I winced internally at the flood that escaped my lips, but he just chuckled, “First time flying?”

“What? No! Excuse you sir, I fly all the time.” I had an intelligent, stubborn, impulsive little sister, I could razz with the best of them.

He grinned, and looking at him was like looking directly into the sun, he was so hot, “Are we making up stories? I’m going to win the Norris this season.”

The teasing was enough to release that awkward tension and I smacked his bicep playfully, “Shut UP I am not that obvious!” I don’t know what bayou I was suddenly born in but the Southern just jumped right out and I sounded like I should be noodling catfish and not flying to another country.

“Just when I think I’ve gotten used to the southern accent, you sound a little different than people in North Carolina,” his smile was infectious and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Well Mr. Edmundson, you are acquirin’ quite the ear. I have a ‘bama accent not a Carolinan one.”

He squinted his eyes in thought for a moment, “Alabama?”

“The Sweet Home one, yes.”

The gorgeous pea coat he had been wearing was in the overhead bin, leaving him in just a burgundy cashmere sweater and soft jeans that hugged the muscles in his thighs. “How did an Alabama girl start watching hockey?”

This was a story that had been told more than once in our house during the holidays because Alabama was definitely football country. “Back in 2017 Bama lost a game to Auburn and at one point Daddy screamed at the TV, ‘If you let that dumbass team beat you I am never watchin’ football again!’ Auburn beat us 27 to 14 and my daddy is a stubborn southern man and hasn’t watched a single pass since. We all thought it would last a week tops but here we are 2 years later and now we’re all Canes fans.”

“When you say… us?” He had an eyebrow raised.

I realized I probably sounded like one of those fans that thinks they are on the team, “Oh! Alabama football, Roll-Tide! If you’re from Alabama you’re a Bama fan or an Auburn fan. We are a ‘Bama family and I am a ‘Bama alumni.”

He grinned and shook his head, “I know you’re speaking English, but I’ll be damned if I understood a single word, but you sure look cute saying it.”

The heat flooding my cheeks could have probably cooked a holiday turkey and I was certain my face was the same color as my blazer. It almost felt like I was being hit on. Clearing my throat, I fiddled with my phone, opening and closing apps hoping my brain was going to restart soon because it needed to tell my heart to stop beating a million times a minute.

The silence stretched like some eldritch being between us until he broke it again, “So you’re obviously from around here…ish. What is taking you to Winnipeg?”

He was almost too handsome to look at directly, “I am actually going to Toronto for the holidays.”

A perplexed look crossed his face, “are you on the right plane?”

I sighed, “Yes, my ‘travel agent,’” I made air quotes, “is a cousin on my momma’s side, honestly, the whole side of the family is a lost cause.”

He replied with a knowing nod, “Gotcha, so do you have family up there? Meeting family? Friends?”

I nervously fiddled with the end of the seatbelt, “Uh no, I’m going by myself.”

He didn’t say anything and the silence began to stretch and grow like an organic being and I felt myself rushing to fill it, “It was actually supposed to be my honeymoon, until I caught my fiance having a one on one meetin’ with my wedding planner, naked, in the bridal suite of the church.

A big breath of air whooshed out of him, “Wow that kept getting worse.”

I offered a shrug, “It was not my finest moment. But the trip was non-refundable and I needed to leave, you know?”

His long strong fingers traced the edge of the armrest and he cleared his throat, “You know that Toronto is like a two hour flight from here and you’re about to fly six hours in the wrong direction.”

A humorless laugh escaped my throat, “Ha, well yes, my cousin is not really gifted in any way. The good lord didn’t see fit to give her smarts or looks, so here I am flying in the wrong direction because she dropped out of school at 14.”

He gave my hand a cursory pat and it was probably wishful thinking that he let his fingertips linger ever so slightly, “Well Adelaide, I’m very happy my mom convinced me to fly out last minute and that your cousin is terrible at geography.”

As the last few passengers filed onto the plane, the crew pulled the door shut, and the pilot came over the loudspeaker, “Sorry folks, but there is a mechanical problem with the fueling truck, it will be a few minutes longer.” There was a collective groan from everyone.

The thought of the plane going down in a snowstorm made me shiver. If the crash and subsequent explosion didn’t kill me then hypothermia would and at least I’d die next to Joel Edmundson.

He glanced at the fancy black watch on his right wrist, “I wonder if it's too late to disappoint my mother and be back to my apartment before the evening news.”

I scoffed, “You couldn’t let me fall on the ground, but you’ll let me die in a fiery plane crash by myself? AND disappoint you mother? Some gentleman you are, Mr. Edmundson.”

His grin was wide and white, “Fair enough, I can’t be disappointing my mom.”

The flight attendants were starting to make their way down the plane with the drinks cart while we waited. His fingertips were still on the back of my hands and he gave it a pat, “First drink is on me, what is your order?”

I resisted the urge to move my hand away, not because I didn’t want him touching me--I did, I wanted him to touch me all over so when I died on this death trap, I didn’t have a single regret--but the sensation was also overwheming because the Sex on a Stick that was Joel Edmundson had been caressing my hand like a lover and it was all too much.

“Lady?”

That snapped me out of my own head, “Lady?”

I don’t know what face I made but he was quick to backpedal, “No not like ‘Hey Lady!’ But L-A-I-D-I-E Like Adelaidie. Sorry, it’s a hockey thing. Nicknames.”

“Uh, my sister just calls me Addie.”

He shook his head, “Can’t have Eddy and Addie, that’s too cute.”

This was a completely surreal conversation and I wondered if the gangway to planes was like a portal to another dimension, “So Lady and Eddy is better?”

He nodded like this was a completely normal thing to talk about 5 minutes after meeting someone, “Yeah like Eddy and his lady.”

I just blinked and answered his original question in case I hallucinated this entirely ridiculous exchange. “Gin and Tonic please.”

He snickered, “Such a Lady thing to order.”

How many concussions had this man suffered?

He took our drinks and surreptitiously slipped a couple of dollars into the flight attendant's hand, then passed over my G&T, heavy on the T. I suspected I’d have to drink 20 to even feel anything close to tipsy.

As she helped the row behind us, I leaned over and Joel leaned in and now our faces were close together and it was difficult for me to focus, “Was that enough money?”

He looked confused a moment before his face softened, “Lady, drinks are free. This is first class, that was just a tip.”

I had a feeling I just showed my Alabama roots. “Oh.”

He patted my hand again and left his fingers on top of mine. Was it hot in here? It felt hot. I desperately wanted to move my hand because touching him was summer in Phoenix, completely fine in small doses and completely overwhelming after 30 seconds.

Finally, I was saved by the buzzer as my phone notified me of a text message. I regretted losing the contact of his touch immediately as I slid my hand out from under his and pulled the phone out of my purse.

Little Sister: Are you THERE YET?

No. My flight was delayed but I did get upgraded to First Class and you will NEVER GUESS WHO I AM SITTING NEXT TO.

Little Sister: TAYLOR SWIFT.

Why would Taylor Swift be flyin to Winnipeg also I’m pretty sure she owns her own plane.

Little Sister: Well then I don’t know.

Joel Edmundson

Little Sister: … Fake… Take a picture.

I AM NOT TAKING A PICTURE

Little Sister: Then you are obviously lying. It’s probably some stinky old rich guy.

I sighed as only an older sister could sigh and Joel looked over at me, “What’s up Lady?”

“My little sister is a pain in the ass,” I said as I set my phone face down on my thigh.

His smile was large and genuine. “As the little brother, I take offense.”

I offered an eye roll, “Yeah, but I bet you don’t drive your older brother crazy.”

He laughed, “I’m pretty sure he still wants to strangle me on a regular basis.”

“Well then, maybe I should introduce you to my little sister, and you can introduce me to your brother,” I said, shaking my head.

He lowered his voice, “only if she’s as gorgeous as you,”

This time I know my face matched the color of my blazer. “She got the same build as my mom. Small and petite ”

Joel sucked air through his teeth, “Sorry not interested. Petite has never been my thing.”

I almost barked and covered my mouth with my hand, “Liar. Petite is every man’s thing.”

He took a sip of his vodka soda and shook his head. “Nah”

Turning in my seat to face him I rolled my eyes, “Ok mister mysterious. What is your type?”

He stayed silent but his eyes traveled slowly down my body before he looked forward again and took another sip of his drink with a smirk.

The temperature in the cabin seemed to jump 500 degrees. I pulled the safety card out of the pocket of the seat in front of me and pretended to read it for a moment before I just started using it as a fan. “Is it hot? I feel like it’s hot.”

He just grinned to himself and took another sip of his drink.

Eventually I started babbling to fill the silence that once again stretched and started to come to life, “So Daddy said y’all won today. I couldn’t watch the game because I was flying from Birmingham to Charlotte on a plane the size of a tic tac. But, congrats.”

He just smirked. “Thanks. I was feeling good, probably why my mom was able to convince me to get on a plane last minute.”

Then something hit me out of the blue. “Shouldn’t you be flying outta Raleigh?”

His answer was punctuated by a nod, “This was the last flight to Winnipeg I could find this afternoon before the storm hit.”

“Oh that’s right we’re flying directly into a storm.” I downed the rest of my drink and resisted the urge to crush the little plastic cup in my hands.

He just arched his brow, “You’ll be fine.”

My answer was bitchier than it should have been and I grimaced as I said it, “Oh really, are you a pilot?”

“I spend hundreds of hours on a plane every year.” The look on his face was kind.

I shrunk down in my seat, thinking I was toilet scum, “Oh. I suppose that’s true.”

I glanced at my phone, my sister was still relentlessly texting and finally she called. Even though my voice was low there was no mistaking the tone when I hissed, “What Adele?”

Joel gave me another sideways glance and he seemed to have the smirk permanently etched on his face.

“No! I’m not puttin’ him on the phone. Why? Because he’s flyin’ home for Christmas, not partaking in a meet and greet with my crazy little sister. You are SO crazy. Oh my goodness gracious, put Daddy on the phone I can’t with you right now,” I growled, “Why are you like this? I swear.”

Before I knew what was happening, my phone had been snatched from my ear and his giant hands dwarfed the device. “This is Joel Edmundson and you are?”

I couldn’t hear her side of the conversation any more but I did hear her shriek and I covered my face with my hands. This poor man...and I was going to have to sit next to him for six hours and stew in my embarrassment or he’d have me moved back to economy or something.

I did my best not to listen to the conversation because I knew I was going to melt into a gooey puddle of embarrassment if I did; fortunately it was fairly easy because, true to form, my sister wasn’t letting the hockey player get a word in edgewise.

After 84 years she seemed to stop talking. “Well, Adele, It’s lovely to make your acquaintance and I’ll get your address from your sister and send you some swag. Yes, I’m sure she’ll give me your address. I can be very charming ma’am.” There was a long pause, “Well, yes she does seem immune to my charm though…”

My head whipped around at his words, but he ignored me and continued. “Well, I’ve tried to be very obvious, but she’s not picking up the cues, oh she’s dumb that way?”

His eyes met mine and he winked, he was joking. Everything was fine. He was just kidding. Of course Joel Edmundson wasn’t interested in me, imagining that could be true would be a special kind of brain trauma. I probably was dumb like my braniac sister always said.

“She IS gorgeous, I’m glad you agree, legs for days and that hair! So tell me about this loser she dumped on her wedding day… uh huh… uh huh… What a bastard. Your daddy never liked him huh? I don’t want to put the cart before the horse, but would your daddy like me? Uh huh… I can definitely work on not turning over the puck on the blueline. Is that his only complaint? Of course I’d treat her like a queen. Have you seen her?”

My mouth was hanging open so wide that my chin was somewhere around the vicinity of my boobs. Who in tarnation was this man?

“Look, Adele, I’m going to have to let you go, I think your sister might be going into shock, but add me on Instagram, okay? Great! I look forward to it, have a wonderful holiday.”

His hand had barely lifted from his ear before I heard my Daddy’s baritone, “Son?”

Joel put the phone back to his ear. “Yes, sir?”

This conversation was easier to follow because my father was a simple and forthright man, “I also think it’s crazy she’s going all the way to Toronto by herself. Uh huh…. Yessir. Well, I’d love to accompany her to Toronto, but I’m afraid I promised my mom I’d be home this Christmas. Uh huh…. Uh huh. We always love the holidays. My mom’s been baking for weeks.” He gave me a sideways glance as my father’s voice rumbled, “I can’t imagine she will like this idea.”

He covered the phone with his hand and I wondered if I had somehow been transported to a different timeline; maybe parallel universes did exist. “Your dad says I either have to go with you to Toronto or you have to come to Brandon with me.”

“He did NOT say that,” I said, furrowing my brow. I leaned forward and he held the phone out, “Daddy did Eddy take a hit to the head today?” I could barely hear him, “Because I think he might have a concussion.” Our faces were inches apart and this close I could definitely smell his soap or a hint of cologne mixing with his natural scent and it was panty dropping for sure.

He brought the phone back to his ear, “OK sir, I’ll do my best to change her mind. I have her as my captive audience for six hours. Yes sir, thank you sir. Have a great evening.”

The call was over when he handed the phone back to me and I gladly put that fucker in Airplane Mode and slid it into my purse before studying the safety placard with great interest. Eventually, the air felt extremely heavy to my left and when I glanced over Joel had turned in his seat to watch me with great interest. I gave him a dry look, “What?”

“You don’t seem interested by that phone call.”

“What phone call, that was clearly a hallucination and you are a figment of my imagination. My fear of flying is clearly manifesting into,” I gestured at his big body, “you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, your dad said if I don’t go with you to Toronto or convince you to come home with me he knows a witch and he’s gonna curse me.”

I chuckled through my nose, “My daddy wouldn’t know what a witch looked like and he sure as heck doesn’t know one. But I’m pretty sure my Auntie practices Hoodoo. But that’s just speculation. Anyway, I’m staying out of these cockamamie shenanigans.”

He looked perplexed, “You mean VooDoo?”

I rolled my eyes, “I said what I said Mr. Edmundson, Google is free.”

His eye brows hit his hairline and he made a serious face, “Okay Ms. Witchcraft Know-it-All.” Facing forward he made a sad noise, “Man, my mom is going to be so disappointed that I’m going to Toronto.”

“I think we both know that you aren’t following me to Toronto and I’m not actually invited to Christmas at your house, so don’t even try and make me feel guilty. Also, it’s weird, we met like 5 minutes ago.”

He just looked at me, deadpan, while he picked up his phone to hold it to his ear. While it rang, he spoke, “It’s been like half an hour and it IS weird, because I never let my brother meet girls I’m interested in, “Hi mom, yes, I’m on the plane. No, it’s delayed again. Yes, I will be home in time for Christmas. Listen, I’ve met this lovely woman, Adelaide, she is flying to Toronto. Yes, she knows she’s on a plane to Winnipeg. There were scheduling problems. Anyway, she’s going to Toronto, on her honeymoon, BY HERSELF. Yeah, I know that’s terrible. The asshole cheated on her, ON HER WEDDING DAY, can you believe?”

I shushed him and waved my hand indicating he should lower his voice, leaving me slightly mortified that not only did his mother know what a loser I was, but so did everyone on this plane.

“Yeah she’s sitting right here. No you can’t talk to her. No, Mom. No.” He held his phone out, “My mom wants to talk to you.”

This was the most surreal experience I had ever had and I was 100% sure this was some kind of dream. I was probably the lone survivor of the plane crashing and I was pinned by piles of twisted metal and I was hallucinating as I died from blood loss. Tentatively I took his phone and held it lightly to my ear, “Umm, hello Mrs. Edmundson. Umm no ma’am I can’t call you by your first name. Southern raisin’ and all. Well, I’ve never been out of the country before and the trip was already paid for so I figured ‘why not.’ No ma’am we celebrate Christmas. My house lights up the whole block. Yeah my Daddy does displays at our house every year. My mama bakes a ham every Christmas. Yes ma’am, it’s a big deal at our house. You and my mama would get along real well Mrs. Edmundson, she asked me the same thing before I left. Mmmhmm. Yes ma’am.” I handed the phone back to Joel and sighed, “She says I’m invited for Christmas.”

He gave me a smug look, “Yeah, mom. I don’t know if Dad should bring the SUV to pick me up, I don’t know if it will be an us. Yes, I will ask her. Yes, I know. Ok. Love you, bye.”

It was his turn to down his drink and he turned to face me again. “My mom says if you won’t come to Christmas, then I have to go to Toronto with you and while that will make her sad, your safety is important.”

Was everyone in this dream crazy except me? Or maybe I was the crazy one and this was normal behavior. “I am not crashing your family’s Christmas because your mother feels a moral obligation to some sad sack you met on an airplane and because my family is trying some weird matchmaking thing.”

He sighed. “Man, my mom is going to be so disappointed. Do you have a bunch of couples stuff planned in Toronto? Are we going to get a sensual couples massage? Couples yoga? A romantic carriage ride?”

I hit the call button above my seat. “We are not getting anything. You are going home to your mother and I am going to Toronto to enjoy my solo vacation.”

The flight attendant interrupted Joel’s retort, “Can I assist you?”

I held up my empty glass. “I have a newly developed fear of flying and this man might be insane. May I have another gin and tonic, heavy on the gin, light on the tonic.”

She was ever the professional but her mask slipped as she eyed the 6���4” defenceman and her look said “Girl, look at this tall drink of water you get to sit next to for six hours, what is wrong with you?”

She didn’t actually say any of that though instead she said, “Of course, just one moment.”

Ignoring the man next to me, I impatiently tried to push my failed bangs back, They immediately fell forward again and I stared dejectedly out the window. I almost missed Joel lifting his phone, the telltale shutter sound, and him swiping his finger across the screen and the swoop of a text being sent.

I narrowed my eyes at him, “What did you just do?”

He lifted his butt off the seat and slid the phone back into his front pocket. “Sent a picture of you to my mom.”

The audacity of this man. There was a replying bing that was followed by a second bing. “Aren’t you going to check that? It’s your mom telling you not to bring Shrek to Christmas.”

He shook his head, “Don’t need to. The first one is my mom saying you look nice and it’s about time I date a nice girl and the second one is my brother asking how serious we are and if he has a shot.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are such a fibber.”

He snorted, “A ‘fibber’?”

“Yes, you know, someone who is a liar.” My drawl drug that 'i' out to pasture and the 'r' was soft and barely pronounced.

“Oh I know what it means, Lady, I just haven’t heard that word used in this decade.”

I swatted his bicep again, “Are you always this annoying or is this just for me?”

He rubbed his arm and faked a wince. “Am I going to have to tell Rod the Bod I can’t play because I was abused by a girl on an airplane?”

I countered his question with one of his own, “You call your coach ‘Rod the Bod?’”

Joel dropped his arm to the rest again. “Not to his face, because I value living, but have you seen the man?”

He had a valid point. Rod Brind’Amour was jacked in all the right ways. “Of course I’ve seen him, I have eyes for goodness sake.”

The flight attendant returned with my happy juice in a much larger glass and waved away the few dollars I tried to give her and her eyes darted to the man next to me before she gave me a pointed glance.

I took a sip and I didn’t think there was a drop of tonic water in it. I just had a straight up highball glass full of gin. “I do believe that woman is trying to get you into the mile high club Mr. Edmundson.”

He snorted, “Baby I’m already in the club, but I’d be more than happy to provide your initiation.”

I didn’t know what to say to that so I just sipped my gin and my face was once again just as red as my blazer.

He snuck a glance at me, “You blush so easily, it’s fantastic.”

[powerblais]

A List of Fics and Why You Should Read Them

By: Someone Who Doesn’t Read Fic Often

So I’ve seen some fic rec lists going around and I thought I’d add mine to the mix, but in a slightly different format, since I am particularly picky about fan fiction. A post per author!

First up is @lulucanwrite​ and her GORGEOUS writing (y’all may say I’m biased, but I’m dead serious; I’ve read her writing for about a decade and have loved EVERYTHING). Mainly Hurricanes, but a couple of Travis Konecny fics (she’s asked me not to ask how they happened and I have mostly respected that). She writes full novels, and when I say she aches over every detail, I’m not kidding, I have the messages to prove it.

All of these are recommended by me, and follow her for more (I literally have post notifs on for her lol)

Andrei Svechnikov: 

A Moment Alone (literally just a make out session)

Green Eyes (her most popular fic which is sweet, cute, and short!)

Dougie Hamilton

Three Words, Eight Letters (CUTE STUFF MAN)

Joel Edmundson

A Woman Like You (Not saying this was for me... but yeah, it was and it is CUTE.)

Christmas Delights (WHO DOESN’T LOVE A CUTE CHRISTMAS THING??)

Sebastian Aho

Serendipitous (A literal novel involving childhood loves and slow burn!!!! Not complete yet, but OH BOY)

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Teuvo Teravainen

Someone to Rely On (Teuvo helping you through an anxiety attack and sweetness!!)

On My Mind (her other novel, with friends to lovers and missed opportunities!!!)

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Travis Konecny

Promise Me (the prologue to the next story listed--” angst if you squint really hard”)

No Promises (Just.............I love it--no spoilers!)

[samgirard]

colton and joel in new york [from andy cohen’s instagram] | 6.18.19

[senditcolton]

hi!! just wanted to pop over for your sleepover! first off, always hoping that everything is going well for you💞

but this is such a fun question to ask, what’s a totally unhinged fic idea you’ve had but haven’t written?? i feel like we all have the most insane ideas that sometimes never get to past just being an idea!

hello my dear!!

oh i had to scour my brain for this one. I did have this idea of a fic about going to The Eras Tour with Joel Edmundson and Cole Caufield (which considering that Cole actually went and heard HAUNTED!! might be a reality).

basically anything extremely self-indulgent is most likely staying an idea. but i never say never because one of my Tyler Seguin fics was extremely self-indulgent and I ended up posting it and it got a lot of love!

[staal-eric-archives]

bio 🌷 milou ; 26 ; french canadian/montréal based/vietnamese ; she/her ; fanfic writer ; irl teacher ; plays too much with photoshop to create a comfort corner ; hockey fan since the 2008 era

hockey teams supremacy 🍁 habs ; goalies ; laval rocket ; team canada

all time favorite hockey blorbos 🦋 eric staal ; martin st-louis ; vincent lecavalier ; samuel montembeault ; owen power ; corey schueneman ; rafaël harvey-pinard ; daniel brière ; roberto luongo

habs blorbos 🌻 nick suzuki ; cole caufield ; saku koivu ; alex kovalev ; jake allen ; brendan gallagher ; ryan poehling ; kaiden ghule ; joel edmundson ; laurent dauphin ; jesse ylönen ; michael pezzetta ; jake evans ; rem pitlick ; joel armia

honorary hockey blorbos 🌟  jordan staal ; marc staal ; kris letang ; sean couturier ; matt duchene ; tyler myers ; claude giroux ; jack hughes ; trevor zegras ; artturi lehkonen ; tyler toffoli ; evgeni malkin ; kent johnson ; mason mctavish ; thomas bordeleau ; connor bedard ; shane wright ; luke prokop

main ships/otps 💘 suzufield ; staallagher ; st-lecavalier ; lehkevans ; trevack ; gentle giants ; mont-hp [complete masterlist]

writing tag 🍀  prompts & requests ; drabbles masterlist ; wips masterlist ; fics masterlist

graphic tag 🔮 the comfort corner ;  get to know me meme ; otp aesthetics

[workingforitallthetime]

svech: a very serious and responsible primer

ok @totally-necessary​ and @needsmore​, i am gonna write you an andrei svechnikov primer and i am going to do my best to produce a work of responsible well-sourced expository prose instead of an embarrassing thirsty disaster like the rest of my andrei svechnikov blogging.

here is my introductory paragraph:

wait, no, give me another shot. i swear i can actually do this. here is my introductory paragraph:

HOW CAN I NOT LOVE THIS GOOD-NATURED FEARLESS JOYFUL SHOULDER-FRECKLED SEX KITTEN????? HOW CAN I DO ANYTHING BUT CRY ALL THE TIME?????

.......ok. sorry. let me try it again. i’ll do it right this time, i promise. here is my introductory paragraph:

once upon a time in siberia, two-year-old andrei svechnikov put on skates for the first time and cried because he couldn’t follow his big brother evgeny onto the ice. eventually evgeny’s coach let andrei join the team’s workouts, and then coach started giving the older players a hard time when andrei would beat them.

the backstory of the svech bros sounds a lot like every other hockey kid who didn’t grow up privileged: parents who worked multiple jobs and sacrificed and moved cities to make sure the kids got hockey opportunities. in interviews, the svechnikov brothers have referenced not knowing where food or clothes were going to come from, and they emphasize how close it made them. evgeny says:

Having a brother that we eat from one plate--sleep in one bed sometimes--we went through everything. It's just one person by your side always. It's like going hunting alone or with somebody.

they wear the same number. they talk every day. as soon as the season paused in march, evgeny drove to north carolina. lately, they’re hanging out in michigan. basically, if hockey is not being played, they are together. basically, if you are going to write a primer about andrei, the most important thing is evgeny.

(my theory is that evgeny is at least part of the reason andrei does not like it when dougie and foegs joke about him being their kid brother. it’s the only joke i’ve ever seen svech refuse to roll with.)

evgeny got drafted by the red wings in 2015 (round 1, 19th overall). he started out with the AHL affiliate in grand rapids, and in 2016 mama svech packed up andrei and moved from russia to michigan. andrei played a season for the muskegon lumberjacks in the USHL. he led the team in scoring and was named USHL rookie of the year. the next season he was the first selection in the CHL import draft, and played for the barrie colts.

ok, so while we’re knocking out the backstory, i want to note that svech’s full name is Andrei Igorevich Svechnikov. don’t tell me that’s not sexy.

furthermore, the very spelling of andrei is sexy. i had a russian-speaking colleague once who had a son named andrei and she would say his name with a little lift at the end. not like the i added another syllable, just like a little caress. i hear it that way when i type it. it makes me happy to type that i at the end. andrei. andrei.

oh sorry, did i veer off topic?

the carolina hurricanes selected andrei second overall in the 2018 draft. he looked just as dumb as everybody always does in their draft night jersey photos, but here’s his draft day suit:

oh wait, can’t pass up the opportunity for a combine photo

did i say COMBINE? i meant JAWLINE

wait one more photo from the combine, just because he looks especially dead poets society in this one:

upon moving to raleigh, andrei emphatically wanted to live alone, which seems unusual for an 18-year-old entering the NHL and is therefore fertile ground for all sorts of headcanons. he keeps his floors very clean and gets mad when his buddies won’t take their shoes off. i am not making this up. he lives in the same apartment complex as dougie hamilton, warren foegele, joel edmundson (rip), and teuvo teravainen. andrei does not cook and he’s constantly calling them to see who wants to go out to eat.

in that last video i linked you can see foegs stumble and jump off his scooter just before he hits the gate to their parking garage. then the gate rises like magic and svech glides straight through. this is an unsubtle metaphor for andrei svechnikov’s entire athletic existence.

svech purportedly does not play video games, which is wild to me. instead, he practices magic tricks. again, i am not making this up.

wait i’m sorry it’s been at least ten minutes since i looked at a picture of andrei svechnikov holding a bunch of kittens

ok where was i.

svech had a pretty solid rookie season in 2018-19, but you can look up the numbers elsewhere if you want them. he was the first player born this century to score in the NHL but we don’t like to think about his 2000 birthdate. he played on a line with jordan martinook for a lot of that first season, and you can read more about that romantic nonsense in the ship primer i’ll be writing next. more recently the canes have settled into a top line of svech, sebastian aho, and teuvo teravainen, which is a pretty deadly combo.

one incident of note from svech’s rookie season is that he got knocked the fuck out by alex ovechkin. we’ll be talking more about that in the ship primer too, but if you want the video it’s here.

here, have a little celly:

svech’s most touted accomplishment is scoring the NHL’s first-ever Michigan-style lacrosse goal. this article has a very good description of how it worked. the postgame interview from that game is so endearing it makes me want to claw my face off. he’s talking so fast (for him) and he keeps repeating that his brother taught it to him, just absolutely determined to make sure everyone knows this milestone belongs to evgeny too.

also, this season, he scored the first playoff hat trick in franchise history.

the thing about andrei svechnikov is that nobody has a bad word to say about him. everybody thinks he’s an amazing player (”skilled and tenacious yet loose and creative”) and everybody compliments his work ethic (shooting pucks for hours after practice or a game) and journalists call him a “transcendent star.” everybody says he’s a great person. everybody calls him special. jordan martinook says svech never has a bad word to say about anyone.

ok it’s kitten time again!

more svech facts of note:

drives a black mercedes, poorly. “he wants to win on the road, too,” says foegs.

his voice gets very soft when he is uncertain about something but he’s loud when he wins a card game. (”GOOD NIGHT, BROTHER! SEE YOU NEXT GAME!”)

loves french toast for breakfast.

guilty pleasure is milkshakes.

if he was an animal, he’d be a bear (”like a russian bear.”)

does monster summer workouts with ivan provorov

look how fucking cute he is

the invaluable social media team over at hurricanes hq understands the svech content the world needs. i’m gonna tackle some more of this in the ship primer, but here are the best ones:

who’s your daddy? this video features svech confusedly asking “daddy?”, which is literally everything i ever want in fic or in life. once he finally understands he’s expected to choose between two teammates, he chooses the one who’s his buddy. and then after he’s catcalled from offscreen, he slouches down in his chair and changes his answer. “both,” he mutters, looking unbearably smug. “both.”

cookie face. it takes marty a very entertaining 49 seconds to eat the cookie. then svech hacks the game and wins in 7 second flat. “he’s good at everything,” marty marvels from offscreen.

this is a terrible concept for a video but it does feature svech and dougie doing the famous scene from stepbrothers, and svech giving a sweeping bow. i will forgive him for wearing a duke hat but only because he wears a tarheels hat in the three amigos video above.

has it been too long since a kitten photo? it’s definitely been too long since a kitten photo.

in conclusion, andrei svechnikov is a massive life-ruining problem and also he is perfect. i love him.

[horsesandhockeyplayers]

A Not So Southern Christmas-- Part 6

This is obviously a rewrite of my old fic. I have been feeling romantic and Christmasy, so I figured it was time to bring back my favorite holiday couple. Title banner by the wonderful @whatishockey. Thank you thank you thank you to the people who periodically peek at this fic to make sure I don't make too many typos and mistakes. @hockeylvr59 @rymurrsneckbeard and @princessphilly

Synopsis: When Adelaide Thibodeaux finds her husband to be diddling the wedding planner in the Church before their nuptials, she walks out and is determined to take her dream honeymoon by herself. Until she gets a seat upgrade to first class and ends up next to Hurricanes Defenceman, Joel Edmundson. Holiday shenanigans ensue.

Author's Notes: This was written in early 2019 before Eddy went to Montreal as a free agent. I will be tagging both teams. It's been a while since I've posted a dual POV so reminder that *~*~*~*~*~* delineates a change in POV. Today we are beginning with Eddy.

Tag List: @leafs-foreverr, @pagirl6866, @colecockfield If you would like to be part of the tag list, please let me know.

Part 6

*~*~*~*~*~*

Just over an hour later we were crawling along I-90 in an SUV the size of a tank. After the second close call of almost being sideswiped by another vehicle sliding on ice after a single mile on the interstate, I was thankful for it. It was a rideshare, so I didn’t care if it only got two miles per gallon, as long as it was able to get us to the airport in one piece.

Adelaide finally turned on her phone and I just arched a brow at her as it vibrated in her hand for what seemed like a solid minute while she looked annoyed, “You ok there?”

She gave me a withering glare, and she looked so cute that I couldn’t help but smile, which made her glare harder and the entire thing was just a circle of me being amused and her getting more furious. It was fantastic.

Poking around on the screen, a call connected and started to ring as she brought the phone to her ear. I could hear her mother’s voice on the other end of the line. “Hi Momma, is everyone there? Put me on speaker.”

I was thankful it was a regular voice call and not a facetime, because I knew her father would pinpoint the “I just fucked your daughter nasty" vibes wafting off of me from four states away.

“No, Adele, I'm not putting Eddy on speaker.” She sighed and dropped her phone to her lap, hitting the speaker button with her thumb. “FINE. Is everyone here?”

“Adelaide why are you in a car, it sounds like you’re in a car.”

She transferred the phone to her opposite hand as I stretched my arm across the seat and intertwined our fingers. “Eddy and I are going to the airport Mama, our flight leaves at one.”

Her father’s rich baritone chimed in, “I guess there’s a first time for everything, one of my daughters not being stubborn? I better buy a lottery ticket.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, “Daddy.”

“Eddy, son she IS going with you, correct?”

I cleared my throat, “Yessir, she agreed.”

“Good. Finally. Adele you’re next.”

Adelaide mouthed “I’m sorry” at me.

The conversation devolved from there. “What does that mean Daddy?” Adele sounded irritated.

“It means you need to stop being so stubborn and accept help and maybe find a good man.”

An argument started between the two of them, with Dottie interjecting at random times. There was something about college and Adele getting her Masters while working. Adelaide looked bored, like she had heard this argument before. She started massaging the palm of my hand with her thumb and staring out the window as her family argued.

Finally, Adele’s voice cut through the nonsense, “Addie and Eddy’s hotel room only had one bed!”

I caught the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror and I don’t think he felt at all sorry for my impending death.

Adelaide’s attention was suddenly diverted back to her phone, “ADELE! Daddy, there was one bed, but I slept on the couch.”

Her sister wasn’t to be swayed from her current path of turning the attention to Adelaide, “Daddy, I looked at photos of the suite, the couch was too small for anyone to sleep on.”

He sounded displeased, I was suddenly very aware the man owned a hardware store and all murdering/disposing bodies things were readily available and no one would blink twice at him having any of them. “Eddy made you sleep on the couch?”

Adele sounded breathless, “THEY WERE CUDDLING THIS MORNING.”

Adelaide started making sounds into the phone, “Can't…. tunnel… losing…. service…” She hit the end button and heaved a sigh, “Well that was a fucking disaster.”

I squeezed her fingers. “Am I safe from your father in a different country?”

She squeezed back. “Probably.”

Her phone started vibrating and she sent the call to voicemail and the next three calls after that before opening Instagram and scrolling through her notifications.

She frowned thoughtfully, “I probably should have gone private before you posted that picture. In our little bubble I forget you’re a famous heartthrob.”

“What? Why? Are people being mean?” I released her hand and snatched the phone from her. Totally ignoring the famous part, because honestly I forgot sometimes too. Someone had gone through every photo of her just commenting “fat” or “whore.”

I took the liberty of blocking them. She had 100 new followers and a number of DMs. “Do you want me to go through the DMs?” She didn’t answer so I took the liberty.

A lot of them were the same as the comments, a few from women I had slept with claiming I was their boyfriend, a lot of marriage proposals from men, those all got deleted. And finally, there were some messages from my teammates' wives, and at least three from my horny teammates trying to hit on Adelaide. She would see right through them, so I left those for her to laugh at later. I set her profile to private and handed her back her phone. “Cleansed. But Svech proposed, you should probably let him down easy.”

She smirked. “I don’t know...he’s heading for a big contract and I’ve become accustomed to a certain lifestyle. Besides I’m dying to find out what else his nimble hands can do.”

My jaw dropped, “You minx. He’s 12.”

“Oh so we should add stamina to the pro list then,” she said looking teasingly thoughtful.

The SUV pulled up to the terminal and I reached over to unbuckle her seatbelt and haul her against my side, lips finding hers. “Svech probably doesn’t even know what the clit is. You’re better off with me, beautiful.”

As the driver put the vehicle in park and went around the back to get our bags, I stepped out of the backseat and offered Adelaide my hand, which she took, gracefully stepping out of the SUV. I could easily picture her stepping onto the red carpet at any awards show.

There were a lot of perks of flying first class and the priority lane through security and the lounge were two of them.

Adelaide was sipping on a double cappuccino she snuck off to buy herself and staring around the lounge. “I’m suddenly regretting working in Human Resources instead of being a bajillionaire.”

We were sitting on a plush leather loveseat and I put my arm around her and tugged her against my body. “Bajillionaires own their own planes. They don’t fly with the unwashed masses.”

“Eddy, I’m the only woman in this lounge and everyone’s shoes cost more than my entire outfit.”

I kissed her temple. “Except I know you’re not unwashed because I was in the shower with you, doing the washing.”

Little Eddy twitched thinking about the shower, soap cascading down her body and dripping off her tits while I fucked her against the shower wall.

She blushed and hid her face in my shoulder. “Eddy! Shh, someone might hear you.”

I didn’t tell her the guy a few seats down definitely heard me and looked her up and down. I had never been possessive before. It was a new feeling and I didn’t want some overdressed schmuck making eyes at my girl.

With her tucked into my side, head under the side of my jaw, she let the coffee cup she was holding rest on top of my thigh. A few minutes later it started to slide out of her fingers and I took it with my free hand and sipped while she made little kitten snores into my neck.

She was wearing an oversized cream colored fisherman’s sweater, sleeves rolled up, over black leggings with practical fur lined boots. The knit hung from her shoulders making her appear way more petite than she was and according to her, was premium comfort.

I just thought she looked cute and I had only thought about bending her over the back of the loveseat, pulling her leggings down just below her ass and fucking her hard until we both came, twice… maybe three times.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I lifted my hips slightly to get my hand in there and pull it out. I rejected the call and sent my mom a text in reply.

At the airport, Adelaide is sleeping.

Mom: She’s coming?!

Yeah… she’s coming. We’re gonna land about 5, and it will probably take an hour or so to get through customs and get her checked bag. You should have dad bring the dolly. Her luggage was huge before we went shopping.

Mom: Ooh a heavy packer. I’ll have Dad pick you up around 6 then. You and Jesse will have to share the bunk beds. The guest room is full of storage stuff.

It’s all presents for you guys and her family. We spent 6 hours in department stores and boutiques and I don’t think she bought a single thing for herself. I am not sleeping in a bunk bed.

Mom: She didn’t have to get us anything! What a dear. Well I’m not making our guest sleep in a bunk bed with your brother.

I told her that. She didn’t listen. Something about hostesses and Southern women. Mom, my suite at the Thompson only had one bed.

Mom: Oh… OH.

Yeah.

Mom: So when are you proposing?

You’re ridiculous.

Mom: You’re bringing home a woman that you are sleeping with which has never happened in the history of EVER. Even when you dated that one girl for almost a year.

I met her two days ago, she was just left at the altar and cheated on. Give me some time.

Mom: But you’re planning on it.

I’m currently trying to convince her to let me take her somewhere tropical for the break. Besides, she could go full exorcist at any time. I literally know nothing about this woman.

Mom: Whatever. You’ll marry her. A mom knows these things. She’s been through a trauma and still scurried around to buy people she’s never met gifts.

I shoved the phone in my pocket. I knew my mom was going to make a huge deal about this thing. I sat in the quiet lounge, staring out the window as the storm clouds began to clear and chilly sunshine started to glint off of the snow and ice, sipping on Adelaide’s cappuccino while she snored gently into my neck.

Finally, our flight was announced and I turned my head to kiss her forehead. “Lady, our flight is boarding in 10 minutes.”

She stirred and pressed a kiss to my neck before sitting up and stretching. “Mm. Okay handsome.”

I grinned, “Handsome?”

She took the now empty coffee cup from my hand and frowned. “Well yeah, you call me ‘Beautiful’ so can’t I return the favor?”

Taking her free hand I pulled her to her feet and grabbed our carry-ons, “Of course you can.” I brushed her hair from her face and gave her a chaste kiss, “You’re adorable when you sleep by the way.”

“Oh my god, did I drool or snore?” she said, rolling her eyes.

“No drooling and only soft little cat snores. Adorable.”

The airport was absolutely packed and bustling outside of the first class lounge and instinctively she stepped into my body and I put a protective arm around her as we made our way to the gate.

When we got to our seats, I let Adelaide take the window. I tended to prefer the aisle anyway. Leaning over, I took her hand. “Do you still have a fear of flying?”

She squeezed my fingers. “I’m still nervous, but it’s like an excited nervous. But I don’t think I can fly economy ever again.”

I squeezed back, “Stick with me Lady and you’ll never have to.”

Her bright genuine smile made my stomach jump. Oh no.

It was amazing watching her reactions: well rested, well fucked, and without the stress of getting left at the altar, she was able to actually enjoy all the minute things about flying that frequent travellers lost. I couldn’t wipe the smile off of my face as she treated take off like a roller coaster, saying a whispered “wheeee” to herself as she watched a winter laden Chicago get smaller and smaller.

She was still staring out the window, her nose practically pressed to it like a child waiting for Santa when the drink cart came by and I got her a G&T. “Lady, I got you a drink,” I said, nudging her elbow.

Settling back into her seat she took the drink, “Thank you Eddy.”

I grabbed her free hand with mine and brought her fingers to my lips, “You’re welcome, Lady.”

We sat in silence, she occasionally glanced out the window, but we had ascended above the clouds and there wasn’t much to see. At least I didn’t think so, but I was wrong.

“I bet this is what heaven looks like… but less cold.”

I choked down my drink, “What?”

“It’s just a big fluffy blanket that goes on forever. Like a foam pit but without all the gross kiddy germs.”

Suddenly, I saw the appeal of economy; sure there was less leg room, but the armrests lifted. I hated the six inches of extra space that separated our bodies. I leaned an elbow on it, “Lady.”

“Hmm?” She continued staring out the window.

“Lady, come here and kiss me.”

Turning her head, she mimicked my position and pressed her lips to mine. “Thank you Eddy.”

I wrapped a lock of her hair around my finger and tugged her closer to kiss her again, “For what?”

“The destination and the man are different, better even, but this feeling I have? That’s exactly as I planned it. I feel… I don’t know, safe, cared for.”

I kissed her again before pressing our foreheads together. “Good. I want to give you everything you want for Christmas this year. Dan is a fucking idiot.”

“You’re making a shitty holiday better than I ever could have imagined.”

Pressing my lips to hers again I wove my fingers through hers, “We have about 5 hours in the air now, want to tell me about your dad?”

She sighed and tugged our hands into her body and laid her head on my arm. “My real dad is a congressman now. Has been. He knows I exist but,” she shrugged, “he doesn’t care. My mom was raised by a family that was trying to climb the social ladder and my grandmother actually encouraged her when he started making advances even though he was with someone else. My mother didn’t know it but he had gotten engaged to that other woman when she had gotten pregnant with me. He chose the other woman who was from a better family. My mom got thrown out of her house because she refused to get an abortion. So she was 20, pregnant, and basically had zero life skills other than knowing what fork to use for what course.”

She paused and took a sip of her drink. “My dad had just taken over the hardware store from its previous owner. Papa Glenn was white, widowed, and his kids had zero intention of taking over the store. It had been an institution in our town for over 50 years and they wanted to sell the building and the business. So Papa Glenn left it to my Daddy who had worked for the man since he was just a poor teenager. He started as someone who swept and tidied. I don’t think he even needed help, just saw a boy who needed a purpose in life and gave him one. I started calling him Papa Glenn when I was a little girl, but he passed quite a few years ago. ANYWAY, he had just given Daddy the store. His kids vandalized it. Threw bricks through the windows, tried to burn it down, graffitied horrible things on the walls. Daddy almost lost the store before he even got a chance to run it.”

I squeezed her hand as she continued, “So, he’s sweepin’ up all the broken glass and my mom, who is about six months pregnant at this point, comes up and starts clucking about crime and hooligans. Just treated him like any other person. He’s cleaning up and this pregnant white lady is standing in the street giving him the what-for all while picking up merchandise that can be salvaged and putting it in a box. Finally, he just looks at her and asks where her husband is, she says she doesn’t have one, he tells her to go home, she says she doesn’t have one of those either. She ended up living in the space above the store managing the books until Daddy convinced her to marry him a couple years later. When they got married someone threw a Molotov cocktail through the big front window. This time though, half the town pitched in to help. What happened to my mom made the rounds in a small town and you don’t just throw bombs in the windows of men who take in pregnant ladies and provide for them. You just don’t, anyway, Adele was born a year later. Mama became president of the PTA and Daddy’s store sponsored sports. Other than the occasional asshole, life was pretty good. And that is how I ended up with a dad that is Black.”

I rubbed her knuckles with my fingertips. “Did you ever try to contact your real dad?”

Her voice was firm. “George Thibodeaux is my real dad. But I know what you’re saying, I sent him a letter once in high school. He basically sent a cease and desist back. I didn’t care after that. I had a father that provided for me in all the ways that were important. Who loved me as his own. He never treated Adele and I differently.”

I kissed her temple, “It’s a beautiful story. I look forward to meeting your dad one day, when he doesn’t want to bury me in concrete.”

She downed the rest of her drink and put it in the trash as the flight attendant walked by. The seatbelt sign had long been turned off and I reclined my seat and reached over to unclip Adelaide’s seat belt. I hauled her over the armrest and she made a small squeak as I settled her on top of my body and pulled a blanket over us. Her voice was quiet, “What the fuck Joel?”

I sighed, “I really hate it when you call me Joel. Nothing ever good happens when you call me Joel. Now, just settle. I need a nap and I can't nap when you’re all the way over there.”

She settled her head on my chest with a sigh and muttered, “Whatever.”

My last thought before I fell asleep was to wonder if I could bring her on the team plane. I was insanely comfortable and warm.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When I woke, I felt like half my face was plastered to whatever I was using as a pillow. It was the type of nap when you wake up and you don’t know what year it is. My pillow was rumbling and there was an arm around my waist. Yawning, I lifted my head and reality slowly resumed. Joel was snoring softly and the plane was filled with a muted orange glow like we were flying directly into the sunset. It was oddly romantic. Before I had time to absorb it the captain’s voice came over the intercom announcing our descent into Winnipeg and the seatbelt light came back on.

I tried to roll off of him gracefully and back into my own seat. I knew I failed when he let out a soft grunt and removed my elbow from his spleen. I grimaced, “Sorry.”

He yawned and adjusted his seat upright. “Don’t be, that was the best damn nap I’ve had in awhile. It was like 3 hours.”

His hair was tousled from running his hands through it and his face was still slack with sleep as he picked up my hand and kissed it with a groggy smile. My heart did a free fall out of my chest and for the first time since I crashed into Joel I realized he had more power to break my heart than Dan ever did and it had been less than three days.

Taking a shuddering breath and an anemic smile he misread whatever vibe I was putting off, “Scared of landing?”

In a metaphorical way it fit, because I was afraid of landing after going back to the real world after this fairy tale, so I nodded and he let go of my hand and settled his palm behind my head, his fingers rubbing the back of my neck.

This revelation was kicking my ass and I realized this was a HUGE mistake, going home with him to his family, but backing out now would be so incredibly rude.

The sun was quickly setting and I looked out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Winnipeg before it was too dark to see anything properly.

Joel let his hand drop and started playing on his phone. As I settled back into the seat he leaned over holding his phone out, “Can I post this to close friends on Instagram?”

The photo was before I had put his sweatshirt on, it was clear I was wearing a Christmas themed pajama set that bordered on lingerie. I was smiling and looking at the camera, Elf hat at a rakish angle on my head, hair falling perfectly and Joel, Joel was looking at me in the photo. Looking at me like nothing else in the world existed. I felt a small flame of hope ignite in my belly. “That’s a good picture, post it wherever you want.”

He looked at me apprehensively. “You’re not worried about your family?”

I gave a wry laugh, “My mama is going to be plannin’ another wedding when she sees that. When we can afford another one that is.”

He linked his arm through mine and started tapping on his phone again. “Your mom will have to fight my mom for that right.”

The little flame of hope glittered a little brighter as the plane made a controlled descent into Winnipeg.

It took the better part of an hour for the plane to land and for us to make it through customs and get our bags. Joel had his bag over his shoulder and was dragging my big suitcase as he followed me with my smaller carry-on. The bells I attached to the zippers jingled everytime the bags bounced over a bump.

Bob Edmundson had texted his son to let him know he was circling the airport and would meet us out front as soon as we got our bags. I stopped in the middle of the sliding doors as the icy blast hit my face and I made an about-face running into Joel.

His arms came around me protectively, “Where’s the fire, Lady?”

“Cold,” I answered, giving a shiver.

His laugh rumbled in his chest, “It’s Manitoba.”

“This is not Alabama cold, this is not Chicago cold. This is Arctic cold and I AM FROM ALABAMA. It’s 65 degrees in Alabama!

He used his body to herd me out the door and I was suddenly seeing a disadvantage of being the small person in a relationship. “This isn’t bad, it’s probably like negative ten.”

My voice was a little louder than I anticipated and my Southern was coming out a little more than I liked, “Negative Ten?! It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here!”

A dark SUV pulled up to the curb and Joel had the audacity to chortle, “Negative ten Celcius. That’s like fifteen degrees Fahrenheit.”

I suddenly felt chilled to the bone. “That information does not in fact make it better, Joel. If it’s below freezing the entire South just shuts down until it defrosts.”

He grinned again and grabbed my head to press a kiss to my temple. “I know Princess, I won’t let you freeze.” As he rounded the back of the SUV with our bags a gentleman about my height rounded the hood and his smile was identical to his son’s.

He opened the front door of the vehicle and held out his hand, “I’m Bob Edmundson, you must be Adelaide, let’s get you in the car before you freeze.”

I gripped his hand, surprised to find it warm and I looked at it in surprise, “Mr. Edmundson, it’s a pleasure. Does everyone in your family run hot? I feel like my hands are turning to icicles.”

“Hop in, the seat heaters are warm, and please call me Bob,” he said, gesturing to the front seat. The well worn leather was already warm and the heater was going full blast as he closed the door and I turned in my seat to watch the men do the forearm grab/back slap hug all men seemed to do. Masculine affection was weird.

There was a muted argument between the two that was short-lived and ended with Eddy sliding into the back seat while his dad slid into the driver's seat, both muttering about stubborn assholes.

I cleared my throat apprehensively. “I can sit in the back seat, there’s probably more room for Eddy’s legs up here.”

The answers were simultaneous with Bob looking at Joel in the rearview mirror and Joel staring back at his father.

“You make her call you Eddy?”

“The old boat only has seat heaters in the front. Because my parents are too stubborn to let me buy them a new one.”

I sat in the front seat as the SUV pulled away from the curb, hand folded in my lap trying not to smile as the men practically yelled at each other.

“Your mother and I don’t need a new Land Rover.”, he held up a finger as Joel opened his mouth, “OR a Gwagon or BMW whatever.”

The six foot four, two hundred and thirty pound man that had literally been inside me less than 12 hours ago, pouted like a petulant toddler in the back seat muttering under his breath, “Stubborn old coot.”

Bob frowned and reached over and patted my knee in a comforting manner, like my own father might do. “I’m sorry, we’re not this dysfunctional usually. But lately Joel and his brother have gotten it into their heads that I’m some infirm old man.”

I smiled and patted his hand. “If you’re ever blessed with a speaker phone chat with my family you will understand why I find this perfectly comforting. Thank you Mr. Edmundson.”

“You can call me Bob, Adelaide.”

“I will certainly try Mr. Edmundson, I mean Bob.”

I bent over to dig through my purse trying to find my phone so I could call the family and let them know we landed. I turned off the data roaming and various notifications started to pop up. A long arm appeared from the backseat, “Use mine Lady, the international charges will be outrageous.”

Bob frowned as he piloted the SUV toward the highway. “You call her Lady?”

“Yeah, Dad. Like ‘Adelaidie.’”

I got a sideways glance from Bob and I put a hand on his arm. “It’s fine. He’s not being disrespectful, I promise. At least he doesn’t insist on calling me Addie like my sister. She calls me that because she knows I hate it.”

Joel shook his phone at me again, “Lady.”

I took his phone and threw it back at him where it hit his chest and fell in his lap. “I have an international plan, Dorkface.”

Bob coughed and kept looking at the icy highway in front of us, while his son looked shocked and then continued pouting in the backseat, “Did you just call me ‘Dorkface?’”

Dialing the phone I held it to my ear. “I did.”

The man to my left was now openly smiling and trying not to laugh.

“Hi Mama! I made it! Put me on speaker. Hi Daddy! No Adele, I’m not speaking to you. Yeah, Eddy’s dad picked us up from the airport. Brandon is about two and a half hours from Winnipeg?” I looked at Joel for confirmation, “Maybe three with all the snow and ice and stuff. No. I’m not putting you on speaker. I just wanted to let y’all know I got here and I’ll send you a text when we get there. No, I’m not inflictin’ you on Bob while he’s drivin’. Momma he told me to call him Bob. Not calling him Bob is rude. Ugh… Momma!”

Joel and his father shared a smile and meaningful look in the rearview mirror that I didn’t have the extra brain cells to process at that moment. “Ok. The plane landed. I’m safe. I’ll send y’all a text when we get to the house. Bye.”

There was a comfortable silence after I hung up and inspite of the three hour nap on the plane, I felt the day catching up to me.

Joel yawned and stretched in the back seat. “Hey Dad, pull over and hit that Timmies.”

I perked up slightly. “Timmies? Like Tim Horton’s?”

He grinned, “You can’t get the authentic Canadian experience without going to Timmies.”

The big SUV pulled up to the drive-thru and we sat behind a couple of other cars as I stared out the window looking at the lights of Winnipeg. Something moved in the bushes by the drive-thru and squinted trying to see what it was before Bob asked me a question.

“Pardon?” I shook my head slightly and blinked a few times. I must have been more tired than I felt.

Bob repeated his question, “What would you like, Adelaide?”

I answered with a small smile, “Oh just some herbal tea for me.”

“You don’t want a Timmy’s coffee?” Bob Edmundson was the epitome of a father and I was beginning to think Eddy and I had similar childhoods.

“I do, I just had a good nap on the plane and if I drink coffee at this time in the evenin’ I will never sleep.”

“Oh Dad, get Timbits!” Eddy piped up from the back seat.

Any guard Joel might have up was completely gone as he sat in the back seat of the older SUV. He was just a big kid in the back seat of the family vehicle and I wondered if his family had taken him to hockey practice in this car. His buddies and teammates and all their hockey gear piled in the big Tahoe and I wondered if our kids would play hockey. What the fuck? I turned back to the window so any expression I might have about my intrusive thought was hidden.

Something moved in the darkness again and I strained to see what it was , blinking trying to get my eyes to adjust to the darkness as Joel and his father had a conversation like I wasn’t even there, which is what my parents did when Adele and I were annoying.

“Will she eat Timbits?”

“Yes, Dad she eats anything, it’s fantastic.”

I was distracted when I interjected, still trying to develop superhuman night vision. “I actually hate broccoli unless it’s smothered in Velveeta.”

I had no idea the look that passed between the men in the rearview mirror, but Joel replied excitedly, “I told you!”

As we pulled forward to the speaker box I could see what I had been looking at was just a bag of trash moving with the wind.

Bob was in the middle of ordering when the bag moved again and this time there was no breeze to speak of. I unhooked my seatbelt and opened the door, the cold hitting me like a freight train.

Joel leaned forward in his seat as his father gave me a sideways glance, “Lady?”

I wrapped my arms around my body, “That bag of trash keeps moving, I just want to make sure there’s not a possum or something stuck in it.”

“Lady, it’s just some varmint. It probably has rabies or something,” Joel’s voice was tinged with a combination of amusements and exasperation.

“Then, we will call animal control or whatever to put it down humanely and not let it suffocate in a trash bag,” I answered matter-of-factly.

Slamming the door I tiptoed through the bushes next to the drive-thru, the Manitoba winter cutting through the knit of my sweater with ease, and as I got closer, the bag moved more and whimpered. Feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the cold I jumped back to the Tahoe and threw open the door to the back seat, “Eddy give me your coat.”

He held the wool to his chest. “What? Why? Adelaide this is a Tom Ford, I’m not letting you wrap a raccoon in a four thousand dollar coat.”

My jaw dropped, “Why do you OWN a four thousand dollar coat!? That’s just ostentatious!” Slamming the door I pulled my arms through the sleeves of my oversized sweater and slid it off, leaving me in leggings and a cami and I ripped a hole in the trash bag with frozen fingers. The puppy inside the plastic gave a tired cry and I gently wrapped it up in my sweater before cradling it to my chest.

Joel jumped out of the back of the SUV. “Adelaide, what the fuck it is freezing outside!”

Suddenly, filled with a white hot rage, it was directed at him in that moment, “It’s not a raccoon, you asshole! It’s a puppy!”

He settled his coat around my shoulders and helped me back into the SUV. I wasn’t sure who was shivering harder, me or the puppy now cradled against my body. I pulled the four thousand dollar coat around me, trying to create a pocket of heat for the little creature. I hugged it a little tighter and it gave a sharp cry with whatever energy it had left. I felt helpless, “Eddy!”

“I’m looking for an emergency vet right now, Lady.”

Bob pulled forward in the drive-thru line and looking between his son and me and the puppy before pulling his cellphone out of his pocket. I guess the Tahoe was old enough not to have bluetooth and therefore could have been the car that Joel and his brother got carted around to hockey practice.

“Hi honey, we are going to be a little later than planned. Joel insisted on Timmies and Adelaide found a puppy and I think we need to drop it off at a vet.” There was a pause that was obvious confusion before he continued, “You’re going to love her. She found the poor pup in a trash bag. I’ll give you a call when we are on our way again. Ok. Bye dear.”

We sat in silence, trapped in the drive-thru. I carefully tried to tuck my sweater around the dog as Joel spoke, “There’s an emergency vet about five minutes across the highway. I’m going to call them.”

The SUV inched forward, pulling up to the window and Bob handed his credit card over and silently distributed drinks and a cardboard box with a handle. “Hi, yes, my, uh, girlfriend just found a puppy in a trash bag. It’s cold and we think it’s hurt.” He paused and I just blinked at the word “girlfriend.” I supposed it was faster than “girl I bumped into in the airport and fucked” and probably would result in fewer questions. But he could have also said friend in a pinch, travel companion, literally anything other than the G word.

Bob regarded me through the conversation. I was never adept at hiding any thought that crossed my mind and I knew he read my face like a book.

“I understand it’s close to Christmas and you’re full, but this is an emergency. Yes, fine we accept financial responsibility. It’s an animal that needs care.” He hung up and pointed between the front seats, “Dad, take a left out of the parking lot.”

I held the cup of tea inside the coat, hoping the hot cup and steam would produce some radiant heat to help warm the puppy and myself.

Joel wasn’t kidding when he said the emergency vet was close and we pulled in just a few minutes later. It was one of those little miracles that happen especially around Christmas. The smell of disinfectant made my nose wrinkle, but the office was warm and I was thankful for that.

The girl behind the desk seemed friendly enough in holiday themed scrubs, “Hi, welcome.”

I almost surprised myself when I spoke first, “Hi, yes my boy… my boyfriend just called. This is the puppy I found.” It was harder than I thought, saying that word.

She frowned, “The one you found in a trash bag? Let me take it back immediately. We’ll assess the poor dear and let you know what needs to be done.”

I tried to wrap my sweater around the puppy more securely before I handed it over across the desk. She took the bundle and cooed as she walked to the back, “Aren’t you darling? We’ll get you all fixed up.”

Joel and his father had taken up residence in the three empty seats, leaving the middle one for me and I pulled the peacoat closer around my body as I plopped in the plastic chair. “I can’t believe you own a four thousand dollar coat, Eddy. I can’t believe I am WEARING a four thousand dollar coat; four thousand dollars is like a year’s worth of car payments for me.”

He put his arm around me and kissed my temple, “Lady, I’m in a tax bracket that’s just a little higher than yours.”

“A year’s worth of car payments, Joel… A YEAR.” It was clear that I was going to be stuck on the coat for while.

“No offense Princess but it sounds like you need a new car.” HIs big hand rubbed my arm, trying to create friction and warmth.

Bob gave his son a dry look over my head, “Don’t let him bully you into buying a new car Adelaide.”

Joel started rubbing the back of my neck, which was becoming a habit. “Don’t you work for Mercedes?”

I scoffed, “In HR. And why would I spend half my paycheck on a stupid expensive car that is even more expensive to maintain. Just to get like a 10% discount?”

He made a face. “Really? Your company discount is that low?”

“You probably get a better deal as a professional athlete than I do as an actual employee,” I sighed.

The receptionist came back out front and looked at me, “Are you taking responsibility for the puppy?”

I stood and went to the desk. “Yes. What do I need to do?”

She slid a clipboard towards me, “Just fill this out and we will get started on her.”

“Her!? It’s a her! Is she ok?”

I received a warm smile, “Yes, she’s lucky you found her. She’s malnourished and dehydrated, suffering some hypothermia and probably some other things, but for being found in a trash sack and separated from her mom at such a young age she should be just fine. She will probably have some pretty bad diarrhea for a few days.”

“Is she really young? I thought she was pretty big.”

“She’s barely six weeks, if that. She’s gonna be a big girl. Probably some sort of LGD and malamute, husky, german shepherd. Something like that. We’ll send you home with some puppy food.”

I looked over the form in front of me, only half paying attention to it, “What’s an LGD? How big will she get?”

“Livestock Guardian Dog like a Great Pyranees or Anatolian Shepherd. She will probably be around 70lbs.”

I sighed, “Of course I couldn’t find a Chihuahua in a trash bag.”

“Go ahead and fill out that paperwork to the best of your ability, she is just old enough to get the first round of distemper and parvo, do you want to do that?”

I nodded, “Yeah I mean, I guess just do everything you need to.”

Both men were buried in their phones when I plopped back into my seat. “I think I have a puppy,” I said it to no one in particular, but a thought occurred to me, “Oh my god, Bob. I’m so sorry. We can find a shelter or something to take her to, if she can go.”

He patted my knee and didn’t reply, just asked me a question, “What’s her name?”

I answered before I even knew the question had an answer, “Tinsel.”

“Why don’t you stay here and wait for Tinsel and Joel and I will go across the highway, I’m pretty sure we passed a Pet Valu. Just text Joel anything you need.”

“Ok, let me get my emergency credit card,” I said as I dug around in my giant purse trying to find it. Joel gave me a dry look and I sighed, “If I check this later there won’t be a charge on here will there?”

He shook his head.

Bob just looked at us with a big grin on his face. “Best Christmas ever.”

Soon I was alone in the waiting room, barks, yips, meows, and yowls coming from the back room and I tucked Joel’s coat tighter around me. I actually swam in the thing, but I didn’t have time to process that.

[hookingminor]

hookingminor’s masterlist

hi! this is my updated masterlist so far! these do not include my blurb writings or headcanons, those can be found under my blurbs/headcanons tags in my bio, respectively.

no longer write for indicated with strikethrough

hey babes!

this blog is 18+ and nsfw, minors dni

player spotify playlists

players I write for

fic rec list / fic rec list 2

* indicates smut (minors dni)

-

Josh Anderson

casual*

Mat Barzal

three lessons* (complete) - one / two / three

4 times his friends posted you on their instagram + 1 time he did

right where you left me / two

calling all my lovelies*

summer nights (w tyson jost)*

Anthony Beauvillier

the way that you love me

private reservations*

Andre Burakovsky

close quarters (complete) - one / two / three / four / five

Pierre-Luc Dubois

cardigan

certified freak*

home sweet home*

Nico Hischier

isn't it strange?*

4 times you took care of him +1 time he took care of you

Tyson Jost

summer nights (w mat barzal)*

the holidate

you complete me*

how I look on you*

baby, you make me crazy (complete) - one / two* / three / four* / five / six* / epilogue

Cale Makar

invisible string

Nolan Patrick

put it on me*

Mikko Rantanen

only you*

Matthew Tkachuk

making love in hotel rooms (with @toplinetommy)

-

Future Nostalgia Series

good in bed - matthew tkachuk*

pretty please - colton parayko*

cool - nico hischier*

physical - anthony beauvillier

-

Love Languages

quinn hughes

nolan patrick

colton parayko

tyson jost

andrei svechnikov

mat barzal

matthew tkachuk

-

Player Tags (both all of my player writings/ramblings + fics I’ve read and recommend + random posts)

tyson jost

nathan mackinnon

andre burakovsky

mikko rantanen

cale makar

andrei svechnikov

sebastian aho

joel edmundson

mat barzal

tito beauvillier

vince dunn

colton parayko

brock boeser

elias pettersson

quinn hughes

pierre-luc dubois

josh anderson

jamie oleksiak

tyler seguin

nolan patrick

travis konecny

matthew tkachuk

nico hischier

[andrei-svech]

hockeyblr fic recs!

in the spirit of christmas, i’ve decided to throw together (another) list of some of my favorite hockey writers and one of my favorites on each of their fic masterlists (there are so many on each of their lists but we’d be here all day)! i’m so thankful for all of these talented writers and all of the people i’ve come across on this hellsite. happy reading and happy holidays to all!  (organized by team, * denotes multipart)

calgary flames

@danglesnipecelly - hand in hand, heart to heart*, jacob markstrom  @jasondickinsonss - christmas isn’t christmas without you, jacob markstrom @broadstbroskis - four times you wore matthew tkachuk’s name on accident + one on purpose, matthew tkachuk    @josty - take care of you, matthew tkachuk @pettypetey - wild love, matthew tkachuk @flaminmtl - baby, i’m yours, matthew tkachuk @dembenchboys - all of me, matthew tkachuk

carolina hurricanes

@barriesweet - storms on the beaches*, dougie hamilton @laurenairay - take a chance, dougie hamilton @kallmekmk - a not so southern christmas*, joel edmundson 

colorado avalanche

@nazkadris - collide*, tyson jost @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys - distraction, tyson jost @dempuckboys - the lesson, tyson jost @davidpastrsnack - girls need love, mikko rantanen @babrielandeskog - like the lines on a mercury, erik johnson @blueskrugs - some people do*, nathan mackinnon

columbus blue jackets

@hookingminor - certified freak, pierre-luc dubois

dallas stars

@shelbsatans - if she’s thinking she could love again, she should, jamie oleksiak @itsbadgerbadgermushroom - the art of the tease, jamie oleksiak

new york islanders

@jamiedrysdales - i don’t know you yet, anthony beauvillier @thirteenisles - on your knees, anthony beauvillier @kempe - the one where you and mat become parents, mat barzal @matbaerzal - then i met you, mat barzal @charlie-theangelwrites - toxic kisses, assorted islanders

new york rangers

@kreiderrider - in which a captaincy is earned, assorted rangers

philadelphia flyers

@princessphilly - filthy boy, travis konecny @seggstars - i don’t*, nolan patrick

pittsburgh penguins

@hockeylvr59 - carl’s choice, zach aston-reese @texanstarslove - something different*, sidney crosby

st. louis blues

@iamtheblondestblonde - clear as day, vince dunn @makarsy - the problem with mistletoe, vince dunn @hockeyboysiguess - dear winter, colton parayko @prettyboybarzal - get you*, sammy blais

toronto maple leafs

@woah-were-halfway-there -  along for the ride*, auston matthews @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 - to finally be yours*, travis dermott

vancouver canucks

@spine-buster - made of outer space*, elias pettersson @brockadoodles - take my heart, i’ll give you my soul, brock boeser @fratboytj - remember us this way, brock boeser

[senditcolton]

A Real Fucking Legacy

summary: you met Joel by accident at a party one night. afterwards, your connection grew into something... something that has never been defined. 

songs: X X  word count: 3.5k warnings: smut and unresolved angst! flashbacks in italics!!

You watch as the flashing red lights shine through your windows and onto your ceiling, the sound of the car driving past the only noise in the late night.

You could not fall asleep. Nothing you did, nothing you tried, seemed to make sleep come faster. Instead, you were passing the time tossing and turning in your sheets, staring up as the lights from the city painted the white ceiling above you.

Why couldn’t you close your eyes and fall into dreamland? The answer to that was easy for you to decipher.

It was because of him.

The party was loud. That was the simplest way to describe it as you weaved through the press of bodies in the living room of the unfamiliar house. Why were you here? You had no clue. An acquaintance of yours threw the invitation into your work group chat, inviting everyone to their friend’s party. And for some reason, you decided to come. Just to get out of your house. And it was nice but man, it was crowded.

That was the only thought in you mind as you push through the bodies, moving stealthily to escape the heat and claustrophobia. You were doing a pretty good job of it until someone jostled your body and threw you into the tall frame of another, causing the glass of red wine in the stranger’s hand to slip from and spill all over your pale green t-shirt.

“Oh shit, fuck, I am so sorry,” you hear the stranger say, his hand flailing around you as you stand there in shock. “Are you okay? I am really sorry.”

“I’m – I’m fine, thanks,” you say, shaking the lingering liquid off your skin, trying to fight off the heat threatening to rise to your cheeks at the attention your mishap was drawing. “No worries, could’ve happened to anyone.”

“Yeah, sure, I guess, but I’m seriously really sorry. Here – um – follow me,” he continues, taking your hand in his before you even had time to respond and tugging you through the crowd, up the staircase and pulling you along before he opens up a door, escorting you into what appeared to be the master bedroom. The hubbub of this entire affair has left your mind reeling so much that you let him continue to pull you along. He doesn’t let go of you until you are in the master bathroom, where he drops your hand to grab a washcloth, running it under cold water before handing it to you.

“For your shirt, uh, to try and clean it,” he explains and you gingerly take it from him.

“Thank you,” you reply, wiping the stain on the fabric, watching as it seems to dissipate but feeling your shirt get more sodden. The stranger is still awkwardly standing across from you, watching you work for a few moments before disappearing through another door. You don’t pay it much mind, confused about the progression of these events anyway. He eventually reappears with something in his hand.

“Here. It’s a clean – dry – shirt for you.”

“Do you just, spill your drinks on people and then steal shirts from random closets?”  

“Well, it’s my closest so… I’m not technically stealing,” he explains, a crooked grin appearing on his face.

“Oh,” you say softly, unfolding the washcloth and hanging over the towel rack to dry. “Well, I can’t accept that. I’ve already caused you too much trouble.”

“First off, it was my fault,” he replies, his voice light. “And second, you have to.”

“I have to?” you question. “And why is that?”

“Because, how else am I supposed to see you again? If you have my shirt…” You can’t stop the surprised laugh that falls from you.

“Is this your go-to method for flirting? Spilling your drink on people and forcing them to accept your shirt so they have to call you back?”

“Well, if it works, I might have to add it into my repertoire,” he laughs back.

You are not blind to the fact that this could have been weird, maybe even creepy if it happened with anyone else. But with him, it was clear that he was just trying to be nice, adding a bit of humor into an otherwise embarrassing moment. You still let him sweat it out a little bit, making him stand there with the shirt extended awkwardly before you take it from his hand with a smile. He smiles back at you, a sparkle in his eyes.

“I’m Joel, by the way.”

Looking back, you wouldn’t have thought that that night was going to be the source of all your troubles, turmoil and tears. Because at the beginning of your time with Joel, it felt good. It felt right. It felt easy.

The sound of your combined laughter bounced off the vaulted ceilings of Joel’s empty living room, the noise of it drowning out the vinyl of The Lumineers Cleopatra currently spinning on repeat. The weight and warmth of his hands feel nice as they caress the skin around your ankles while you lay back with your feet in his lap, the soft material of the rug pressing against your shoulder blades.

You stay relaxed in that position for a moment before you feel a cool glass press against your thigh. Lifting your head, you see Joel extending the bottle of rose to you, already half-drunk. You raise your torso, leaning back on one of your hands while the other takes the wine from him, lifting the bottle to your lips as you take a sip.

While you drink, you watch as Joel takes a look around the room, his eyes blinking a few times in confusion. You wait for him to look back to you with that adorable eyebrow furrow.

“Wait,” he says. “How the fuck did we end up on the floor anyway?”

“You really have to ask?” you reply as you wave the wine bottle in the air between the two of you.

“I suppose your right,” he laughs, watching you as you take another swig from under hooded eyes. “It’s nice though.”

You hum before turning your body, not getting up but stretching towards the small end table, attempting to place the wine safely on top. You are aware of Joel’s hands still on you and you falter for a moment when you feel his hands creep up the back of your calves and you can’t stop the soft gasp that falls from you as you feel his fingers just barely graze just millimeters from your inner thighs. You flip you head back to him, the questioning grin on your face to which Joel just responds with smile of his own.

This continues until you finally spin back to your original position, propped up on your elbows with your feet in his lap.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you tease, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Nothing,” he replies, his fingers still tracing shapes on your legs. “Just admiring how soft your skin is.”

Another hum comes from you as you look at him, trying to decide how you wanted this to go. But the palpable energy surging between the two of you makes your choice simple. You reach down towards his hands, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and slowly, deliberately, pulling his hand up, letting his fingers dance across your thighs, your hips, your waist. You continue the journey until his fingers are just grazing your collarbones, neck, jaw, until you bring his hand up to your mouth, pressing kisses onto each of his fingertips.

Joel keeps his eyes locked on you as he watches your movements, allowing you take the lead. But as soon as you kiss his thumb and let it gently pull your bottom lip down, your grip releasing his wrist as you graze your own hand down his forearm, his composure finally snaps. You gasp as his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you forward as his other hand pulls one of your feet out of his lap, opening your legs so he can slot himself between them. You fall backward, letting Joel’s body weight cover you. He leans in, pulling your face even closer to his until your foreheads are touching.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, breaths intermingling, almost daring the other to make the first move.

In the end, it didn’t matter because it seemed as if the both of you surged forward at the same time, your lips clashing together. Your arms found their place around his shoulders, hands nestling into your hair as you tug him impossibly closer. His own hands pull you closer as well, the one on your neck still pressing you tugging you towards him while the other grazes down your side, sneaking under the hem of your t-shirt, his hips rolling against yours exquisitely.

You were so caught up in the feeling of him that the rest of the world faded away. So much so that you didn’t hear the cautious warning playing from the speakers.

“Heaven help the fool who falls in love.”

That memory heats up your skin as you sigh back into your pillow, the hours still passing as your mind replays the moments that you two shared. You would be lying to yourself if you said some of these sleepless nights were caused by those specific memories; the ones that made your heart race and your body keen. But that could have easily been blamed on the fact that so many sleepless nights with him were the source of many of those moments.

You were up late waiting for Joel to come over.

He had texted you after the game, wanting to see you and you didn’t even have to ask why. You had been watching. And it was rough for all the Canadiens but especially for Joel, who seemed to get called for every penalty (sometimes justified, sometimes not) which lead to multiple powerplay goals by the Canucks and eventually a 5-1 loss.

You reclined in your bed, the comforter pulled over you as you mindlessly scroll through your social media feed while you wait. It isn’t long until you hear the front door open and you manage to place your phone onto your nightstand as soon as Joel steps into your bedroom.

He doesn’t say a word before he is striding over to you, grasping your face in his hands and leaning down to kiss you: deeply, desperately. You respond in kind, arching up to meet him as your lips and tongues continue to dance against each other. Joel’s hands fall from your face as he hastily pulls away the sheets, exposing your body to the cool air. You gladly let him, tugging similarly at the fabric of the t-shirt that covers his frame. He breaks from the kiss to rip the material away before leaning back down, his lips now attaching to your neck, slowly moving down.

Pausing at your collarbone to mark your skin, you whine, arching your body to get closer to him, relishing the feeling of his hands sneaking up underneath your oversized sleep shirt to graze against your ribcage, his fingers brushing against the delicate sensitive skin of your breasts. It feels heavenly but you want more, your body rolling with your silent request.

Joel picks up on it easily, his hands falling from your chest down your hips until he finally places one between your open thighs, groaning against your neck when he feels the wetness of your pussy underneath your underwear. He presses his fingers against your slit, causing the damp patch to bloom across the soft cotton as your hips buck up to meet him, needing him to remove that final barrier between you two.

He obliges, hand raising only to grip the waistband and pull the fabric down your legs before his fingers return, sliding up and down your folds, collecting your slick before pressing into you. You let out a soft moan as his fingers move within you, thrusting at a deep and leisurely pace, spreading you open. Your head is spinning from the motion of his hand alone that you don’t even register the rest of his body moving downwards until your feel his plush lips connect with your clit.

The moans that escape you get louder as his tongue moves in tandem with his fingers, circling around your clit as your hand reaches down to tangle in his hair. Your hips absentmindedly aid in him in his movements, grinding up to make his fingers go even deeper. It isn’t long until the dizzying sensation of his mouth and hands brings to your peak, your body stiffening as your orgasm rushes through you.

Joel slows his movements, helping you come down before he disappears from between your thighs. Your eyes are heavy from the haze of your post-orgasm but you still manage to look up at him, watching as he shucks off his athletic shorts, leaving him bare before you. He slowly climbs over you, capturing your mouth in a gentle kiss before breaking away again. You feel his hands tug at your hips, encouraging you to turn over onto your hands and knees.

You respond quickly to his silent request, settling yourself into this new position; your chest against the sheets, your hips up in the air. It doesn’t take long before you feel Joel hard against you, whimpering as he rubs the head of his cock down your pussy a few times, collecting the lingering wetness from your previous orgasm before sliding into you.

You moan into the pillow as he begins a slow pace, practically grinding into you, making you feel him deeper than you thought possible. Eventually, his pace quickens, pulling delectable sounds from your throat as he fucks you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You relax against the sheets, happy to let him take what he needs, relishing in the sensation of his hard cock sliding against your walls.

The gasp that falls from your lips is involuntary as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your torso up off the bed and holding you against him, your back to his chest as he groans in your ear, lips attaching to the column of your neck. You writhe within his grasp as this new position allows him to graze your g-spot with every thrust, the sensation heightened when he spreads his hand across your lower stomach and presses down, causing your pussy to flutter and clench around him. It only takes a few more thrusts before Joel hits his peak, his teeth grazing over the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he moans against your skin. It is that combination of feelings that pushes you over the edge as well, tightening around him, your thighs quivering with the effort of remaining upright.

You relax against Joel’s chest, his muscular arm still wrapped around your waist as you both catch your breath, his lips coming to press against your temple. Eventually, you two untangle from each other, taking time to clean up before you are collapsing back into bed together, your head resting against his chest, his fingers brushing up and down your side.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask him, your soft voice breaking through the night.

“Not tonight.” You respond with an understanding hum, curling deeper into his side. The two of you lay there silently for a moment before you look up at him.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, calling his attention back to you, “I think you are an amazing person.”

Joel doesn’t respond but in the miniscule light creeping in from your windows, you can see his lips curl in a smile before he is pulling your face up to his.

And you can’t ignore the fluttering of your heart as he kisses you. Like he loves you.

From anyone else’s point of view, the dappled light on your ceiling hasn’t changed at all. But you knew it had. You had been watching the shadows move and stretch as the hours pass with no reprieve in sight. You hated how much he haunted you. Hated that you could pinpoint where it went wrong. Hated that a part of you still blamed yourself for how it ended.

Your let out a gasp, your body collapsing against the sheets as you relax your shaking muscles, your throat dry from calling our Joel’s name. You hear his own sheets rustle through the speaker of your phone, his breathing coming in ragged pants. Once your heart stops threatening to beat out of your chest, you reach across the bedspread, taking your phone off speaker and holding it to your ear.

“Fuck, that was – mmm,” Joel says on the other end of the line, still trying to form coherent sentences.

“Yeah, it was,” you giggle, earning a small chuckle from Joel in response. The silence stretches in between you two, feeling almost as far as the distance from Montreal to Florida where he was currently, calling you instead of going out with his teammates to celebrate their win. It made you feel special.

And perhaps that feeling was what fueled your next words.

“Hey Joel,” you say, hearing a quiet hum from him in acknowledgement. “What are we?”

“What do you mean?” he says, his voice strangely non-committal. The minute you sense that in his tone, your brain screams at you to back off. But your heart needs to know so you press forward.

“I mean, like, are we dating? Are we friends with benefits? Am I just a booty call? I – I just want to know,” you continue, your voice becoming a little unsteady. “Because, I um… I like you. A lot and um, I just want to know how you feel about me.”

If there was silence before, it has now multiplied ten-fold, weighing heavy and oppressive over you as you wait for a response. You hear him heave a sigh and you swear you can feel your heart pounding in your ears as you listen for his next words. And you feel it drop into your stomach when Joel does speak.

“Babe, it’s um – it’s late,” he begins and you sit up in your bed, pulling the covers tightly around your body. “And uh, I’m not sure we should be having this conversation over the phone.”

“Yeah,” you say, slightly shaking your head. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Sorry.”

“Hey, I promise, we’ll talk when I get back to Montreal, alright?”

“Alright, that sounds good,” you say, your eyes blinking rapidly as tears start to well without your permission, your brain yelling at you for saying too much.

“Okay. Good night.”

“Night.”

That was the last time you talked to Joel.

He ghosted you. Completely and utterly ghosted you. When he flew back to Montreal after that night, he didn’t reach out to you at all, not even some cheap throwaway text message saying you were through. You sent him a few messages, called him a few times just trying to connect with him even for a moment but after getting no response at all, your contact started to fade until you stopped trying.

Instead, you started trying to forget him.

That’s what you were doing currently, lying awake in your bed, watching as your bedside clock changes, displaying the row of numbers reading 3am. You were trying to forget him. But it wasn’t working. Three months of no-contact, three months of attempting to push him out of your mind and it wasn’t working. You still woke up with the memory of him hanging over you.

Another breath of a sigh escapes you as you grab your phone from the nightstand, pulling up his number, the one that you knew you should have deleted long ago but just didn’t have the heart to. Before you could even process what you were doing, you were hitting the call button, holding the device up to your ear and listening to it ring.

You get his voicemail, exactly what you were expecting to receive and you listen to his message, not able to stop a smile from appearing at the sound of his voice. The harsh tone comes and you pause, trying to piece your words together.

“Hey, Joel, it’s um – it’s me. I, uh, I don’t really know why I’m calling. I guess I just, um,” you sigh, sniffling quietly as you fight back the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes. “I, uh –” you breathe, a hand running through your hair. “I miss you.”

You let the words linger for a moment before you sniff again, clearing your throat before continuing.

“So, yeah I gue- I guess that’s it. Um… sorry for calling you so late and I um, I – yeah. G’night.”

You quickly hang up the phone, placing face down on your nightstand before burrowing deeper under your covers, a few tears slipping from your eyes and down your cheeks. The exhaustion finally and blissfully catches up to you as you manage to fall into a deep and dreamless slumber. You don’t wake up until the sun is high in the sky, not even when your phone buzzes with the notification of a text message coming through.

Joel I miss you too. Message received on March 23rd at 6:57am

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[ilyasorokinn]

the lover series

all these fics are standalones, so they can be read in any order as well. i don't really know what brought this series on. i was inspired by a grey's anatomy edit on Instagram.

these are a few of my favorite book tropes, so if you'd like to read of few books similar to these, i have a book wrap-up/book club post. here's the masterlist. just in you're interested.

these will be dropped at any time and in any order, the order below isn’t the order in which they will be dropped.

tw: so, some of these fics will include death. there will be trigger warnings on the fics themselves, so keep an eye out for those.

star-crossed lovers - two people meant to be together forever and doomed due to fate. (freddie andersen)

in another life - two people who are ripped apart but it's not "goodbye". it's "see you later". (colton parayko)

the one that got away - two people who deeply love each other, but it doesn't work out and they're left with regret. (jeremy swayman)

friends-to-lovers - two people that are in an established relationship become romantic partners. (tyson jost)

enemies-to-lovers - two people that overcome their differences and misconceptions end up falling in love. (jamie oleksiak)

fwb-to-lovers - two people who are physically intimate, yet not committed to each other, fall in love. (pyotr kochetkov)

right person, wrong time - two people made for each other, but due to circumstances, can't be together. (nathan mackinnon)

brother's best friend - two people that are connected by one person (a sibling and a brother), and end up falling in love. (william nylander)

childhood-friends-to-lovers - two people that have been friends since their youthhood fall in love. (alex lyon)

opposites attract - two people who are not similar in any way somehow fall in love. (josh norris)

the other woman - two people who aren't together due to one person being in a relationship, which causes the other person to feel like the second option. (joel farabee)

soulmates - two people who have a feeling of deep natural affinity. two people who are perfectly suited to another. (elias pettersson)

unrequited love - one person is in love with the other person who doesn't reciprocate those feelings. (anthony beauvillier)

second-time-around - two people that have broken up once before, and find their way back to each other. (juraj slafkovsky)

slow burn - two people who gradually and naturally fall in love or lust before beginning a romantic relationship. (nick blankenburg)

fake dating - two people who make a deal and decide to start dating each other out of convenience for each other. (brendan brisson)

marriage of convenience - two people who decide to get married for their own personal gain, but end up falling in love with each other. (brock boeser)

two person love triangle - two people in love, but one person’s job takes importance in the relationship. (sidney crosby)

"love isn't for me" - one person who isn't against love but isn't actively trying to find it ends up finding their perfect match. (joel edmundson)

relationship in trouble - two people who are in a pre-established relationship, but their relationship is slowly falling apart. (dougie hamilton)

secret baby - two people who, after spending one night with each other, end up with a baby, but one of them doesn't know the baby exists. (andrei svechnikov)

love at first sight - two people who fall in love as soon as they meet. (nico hischier)

grumpy-sunshine - two people who have two completely different personalities. (teuvo teräväinen)

tragic love - two people who fall in love, but one of them guards themselves from the other person. (mat barzal)

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tagging some friends so this doesn’t flop: @2manytabsopen @tysonjost-taylorsversion @rosesvioletshardy @jostystyles @laurenairay @joshsandersons @miracleonice87 @joelsfarabees @comphyjost @myhockeyworld87 @islesnucks @fallinallincurls @idblowburrow @iwantahockeyhimbo @broadstflyers @hockstuff @kentjohnsons @nylwnder @duhaimes @sydnikov @tonyspep @quietblues @youngbeezer @prettyboyjackhughes @lam-ila @thetysonjost @boesersdrurys @bb-nhlqueen7 @boqvistsbabe @oleksiak-pettersson @senditcolton @hugheshugs @boeswhore @bananarantanen @straussmann @mackiesamo @raysofcrosby @sebbyaho @bords @harlowhockeystick @owenpwr @bitchinbarzal

i apologize for any heartbreak this may cause.

[workingforitallthetime]

c’mon join the marty party

or, why you should love jordan martinook

I initially thought of Jordan Martinook as merely the means to a mistah svechnikov end. But as it turns out, I like Marty a whole lot too. So I thought I would take a few minutes to get you up to speed before I inflict svech/marty fic upon you. A full primer on that ship will follow, but for now, let’s get to know Marty, okay?

Unless otherwise sourced, all the information that follows is from here or here.

Marty is unquestionably the Canes’ energy guy, on and off the ice. There are countless articles referencing his “relentless energy” and describing how the entire team is less effective if he’s not playing. If a conversation is happening, Marty wants to be involved. If there’s a fight, Marty probably started it. If there’s a team event, Marty is planning it. If someone is getting punched by Evander Holyfield, it’s going to be Marty.

Background: Born in Manitoba, raised in Saskatchewan, claims Alberta. We love a prairie boy playing pond hockey, yes we do! A late bloomer who was passed over the first two years he was draft-eligible, Marty was finally drafted in the second round by the Arizona Coyotes in 2012. When asked what he wanted to be doing in five years, this 20-year-old softy said he’d hopefully be on his second contract "and be settling down in my life with a wife and kids.”

and look! he did it!

This is Chase. He was born the same week Marty signed his new contract with the Canes, but Marty would like you to know he also went to a Metallica concert that week. It was a big week. I would like you to know that Marty dressed Chase up as a Canadian moose for his first Halloween, but unfortunately I cannot find pictures. However, there are plenty of pictures of Marty’s gassy french bulldog Gus. Marty’s wife Courtney also seems lovely but this is an rpf zone so I don’t think about her too much.

Marty made his NHL debut in 2014, and in 2018 he was traded to Carolina. Possibly you could say this happened because the Yotes had a surplus of wingers with Lawson Crouse on the way up, but cosmically this happened because Andrei Svechnikov needed Marty.

Marty played it cool the first few weeks in Carolina, but he released the Marty Party after that and he has been the best beloved of the Canes social media team ever since. Here is Marty extremely drunk after tailgating at an NC State game (with a little bonus svech for you):

The Canes gave him an A in his second year, and truly there is no one better suited for the role. As I understand it, one possible job description for an A is Vice President of Good Vibes and Making Sure Everyone Feels Included (please note that I could be wrong about this, my sample size is Kevin Hayes), and Marty excels at this responsibility. Brind’Amour describes him as “kind of that guy that glues it all together.”

Here’s Marty bellowing the starting lineup. And here’s Marty tweeting at Ryan Suzuki because Marty is the kind of guy who researched the Canes’ brand new draft pick and found out his go-to karaoke song is Love Story:

Marty takes karaoke extremely seriously. His worst fear, other than rattlesnakes, is getting booed off the karaoke stage. This happened to him once, in Portland ME, but he acknowledges it was his fault for choosing an Eminem song. (”I’m from Alberta, I can’t rap.”) His go-to karaoke song is I Wanna Dance With Somebody, but he notes that other appropriate choices for someone from Alberta include country music and Sarah McLachlan.

Oh, a little more about that Nickelback thing:

Here are some other important Marty facts:

Was a drama kid in high school! He had the lead in the school play and they had to reschedule it because Marty had a hockey game.

The team was already calling Martin Nečas “Marty” when Jordan Martinook arrived in Carolina, but Jordan pulled rank and claimed the nickname and made everybody call Martin Nečas “Junior” instead.

If Marty was an animal, he’d be a dolphin (because he loves water and can do a very plausible dolphin squeal.)

Speaking of loving water, last summer Marty took a river float trip with Joel Edmundson, Brock McGinn, Jake Gardiner, and Svech. Sometimes I lie awake at night and think about this.

Marty is a hairy motherfucker who regularly waxes his eyebrows (because threading is too painful and laser hair removal did not work) and has been chirped about his back hair in every locker room he’s ever been in.

Speaking of hair, Marty would like you to know that when he was 16 or 17 he and his brother-in-law “fell into some beers” and his brother-in-law tried to wax Marty’s asshole with drywall tape. (Are you starting to see why Marty is the best hockey podcast guest ever?)

I think it’s important for you to know that Marty has hot pink swim trunks:

Finally, it should be noted that Marty comes by it honestly. His dad is legendary for partying like a rock star on every dads’ trip. I will leave you with this photo of small Marty and his dad, two generations of party: