#look i know i just posted about how ugly hockey player's suits always are but this man is excluded from my criticism

[jerswayman]

jeremy swayman brainrot: all black pre-game head to toe

[radstronaut]

Take a Breath | Teuvo Teräväinen

warnings: n/a word count: 1730 note: hi yes i more or less created this blog to post this fic specifically so here we are, this is pretty much for @lulucanwrite who i love dearly, and also technically beta’ed this fic so ♡

Why you agreed to stand in the heat and watch a group of unruly boys in their twenties swing pieces of metal at plastic-covered rubber balls would be completely beyond you if you weren’t completely smitten with Teuvo Teravainen. It’s nearly ninety degrees--this is North Carolina after all--and despite your magical sweat-wicking shorts and tank top, you’re definitely sweating through your clothes. If Petr weren’t the sweatiest human you knew, this would probably embarrass you. Coupled with Martin bouncily seeking approval for everything he did and Teuvo and Sebastian’s banter with each other, you were okay with just about anything-- your complete inability to play golf included.

It was hard to say why the group had invited you along. Maybe because you took great photos they could share on Instagram, or because you were known as “the person who always brought bomb food to parties”, or maybe just because you were easy to get along with. You’d spent so much of your life feeling like you were weird and unlikeable, but somehow you’d found solace in a group of professional hockey players from Europe.

Ha. Just thinking that sentence makes you snort a little to yourself. 

“Are you laughing at Sebastian?” Teuvo asks, peering over your shoulder. You’ve got your phone clutched in hand, a boomerang of Sebastian swinging back and forth looping on your screen. 

“Nah, just thinking about how weird I am,” you reply, hitting ‘post’ and clicking your phone off. 

“Why won’t you take one of me?” he asks, a pout on his face. 

“Because,” you answer, voice breezy and light, “You’re not my favorite.”

Your response sends Teuvo into a spiral of “whats” and “buts” that secretly gives you life force. You float away, sashaying up to Martin and Petr, who are talking about clothes of all things, and look at you like you’ve just interrupted the single most important conversation in the entire world. 

“Please tell me you don’t think this is cute, too,” Petr says, shoving his phone in your face. 

It’s a non-offensive, baby-blue suit, and you’re not sure what to say, other than, “I think it’s fine?” To which Martin grins gleefully, waving his arms around to show off his little victory. 

“You cannot be serious,” says Petr, like it’s the most obvious thing. “It’s ugly! Who wears suits this color?”

“I would!” Martin exclaims, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. “Light blue is totally cool.”

“Maybe for a springtime pinterest Easter wedding in Alabama,” Petr says.

There are a lot of references here to popular American culture going on here that you weren’t even sure he knew, but you laugh nonetheless. 

These dorky, soft boys always made you laugh. You look up, watching Teuvo as he winds up and swings his club. It makes the satisfying sound that metal swung fast makes, and you watch as the golf ball flies through the air for what seems like forever. Even for somebody who knows nothing about golf, you can tell he’s got an amazing swing. Every muscle in his body moves with intent; his follow through is gorgeous. He even has the cute little golf foot thing at the end, something you are sure has a proper name, but you’re ignorant of it. 

“Careful, you’re drooling,” Petr says, squeezing your shoulder.

You all but jump where you’re standing, and raise a hand as if you’re about to play-swat him. You’re flustered, and it shows on your face as you try to play it off. “Come on,” you hiss, making a face. “I’m not drooling.”

Petr shrugs as Teuvo makes his way back to his bag to retire his driver. You watch, crossing your arms over your chest almost in defense. 

“Your turn!” Teuvo calls, and Sebastian snickers from where he’s sat in the one square foot of shade that the golf cart provides. He turns and points at him, frowning, “You better stop laughing!”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, and hands you the driver that he’s been holding since his turn. You don’t own a set of clubs, so Sebastian graciously agreed to share his with you. “You know how to do this, right?” he asks you with a cheeky smile. 

“Shut up.” 

All eyes are on you as you stroll up to the tee and set down the golf ball. They’re hungry for your failure. You can feel it. It’s like the four of them have gathered here exclusively to watch you wind up and whiff so they can have a laugh and get back to actually playing golf after their comedy break. You take the club in hand, holding it just like you were shown one time forever ago, with your thumb and fingers interlocked, and steady your position. 

It’s not that hard, you remind yourself, trying to calm yourself down. You know that making it out to be a big deal will only make you more nervous, so you take a deep breath in as you wind up, and exhale as you swing--

And stop right before you hit the ball. Ugh. Getting nervous is honestly worse than whiffing, you think, and so you decide to set yourself up again. You spread your feel the right distance apart and try and settle in place. You’re just about to hype yourself up again when you feel a hand rest warmly on your shoulder, and you let out the breath you’d been holding. 

It’s Teuvo, who looks at you with gentle eyes and a calm smile. “Let me help you.”

Normally you’d be way too prideful to admit you needed help from any of these clowns, but it’s Teuvo, and he looks so genuine that you don’t really mind. “Okay,” you breathe as he stands behind you, resting his hands over yours.

Your heart jumps into your throat as he steadies your grip. His chin hovers right above your shoulder, his face so close you can feel the breath on your neck. 

“You’re so tense,” he says, voice light and private. “Relax your shoulders.”

How you’re supposed to relax with his body practically pressed flush against yours evades you. You let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Good,” Teuvo says gently, but with authority. “Swing your arms back and forth and let the club’s weight lead.”

You listen. 

“Now,” he says, “When you feel ready, wind that back a bit more, keep your eyes on the ball, and swing.” 

You’re having a hard time focusing on feeling ready when his hands leave your hands and he takes a step back, making the air touching your arms feel even more empty than it had before he was there. Your skin misses his immediately. You sigh softly to yourself. 

Then, you wind up and swing. 

The driver hits the golf ball with a satisfying sound and you watch as it seems to float through the air and land across the course-- much further back than your friends, but still, further than you thought it would go. 

You turn back, seeking Teuvo’s approval, but he’s already clapping his hands and grinning from ear to ear. “That’s really good!” He cheers. “That’s really really good!”

You beam with pride. 

“It’s going to be your turn again,” Sebastian teases from his seat, “Since you barely hit it at all.”

“Come on, Sepe, let it go!” Teuvo defends, waving his hand in front of Sebastian’s face. 

“You just want an excuse to get all up in Y/N’s space again.”

He doesn’t protest, but rather hands you a club from Sebastian’s bag and, with a hand on the small of your back, ushers you out to where your ball has just landed. 

This is very forward of Teuvo-- very, very forward. He typically wasn’t so outwardly flirtatious, but maybe it’s Sebastian’s comments that embolden him as you make your way down the green.

“Is this okay?” He asks after a moment, dropping his hand from your back to make eye contact with you. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You smile simply, grabbing his hand and placing it on your back again. “It’s perfectly fine,” you say. 

Once you arrive, Teuvo hands you the club and looks at you. “Do you want my help again?”

“Please?” You ask coyly, practically batting your eyes at him. Whoah. Maybe you’re feeling emboldened by his flirtatious energy as well. 

With a grin, Teuvo steps behind you, chest against your back, and rests his hands atop yours again. This time, you relax into it-- you feel less nervous, more loose this time, feeling much more confident than before. His lips brush your ear as he leans forward, and reminds you to keep your eye on the ball, and not to worry how far it goes. The hairs on your arm stand up. 

You’re about to pull back and swing when you hear the golf cart whir past you, and from the driver’s seat, Petr yells with a shit eating grin: “kiss her!” 

Sebastian and Martin echo the sentiment with a chorus of “kiss her! kiss her!” 

Pink creeps across your cheeks, and you tilt your head to look at Teuvo over your shoulder. Time completely stops. The humid air hangs still and heavy between you with heat and energy, and you feel his lips inches away from yours. You aren’t sure how long you stand there, moments away from each other, thinking about what it would feel like to close that distance and feel his lips against yours.

And then it happens. Teuvo’s arms wrap around your waist, and he twirls you around, pulling your chest flush against his and kissing you, hard, all in one fell swoop. You feel your entire body tense up and then relax, your heart racing as you melt into him, kissing him back with the same fervor. His arms wrap around your waist, and yours twist around his neck, fingers grazing the sweat-damp hair on the nape of his neck. 

The boys are cheering behind you. Cries of “yes!” and “finally!” fill the air as Martin whoops and hollers, and Sebastian even gives the little golf cart horn a celebratory toot as you both smile into your kiss, toothy and wide-grinned. 

“Finally,” Teuvo breathes against your lips, and you can’t help yourself from bursting into laughter, leaning your forehead against his. “Finally,” you agree, giggly smile splayed across your face.

He leans in and kisses you again.

[please-say-less]

the roommate (part three)

player: connor mcdavid | edmonton oilers word count: 1, 844 warnings: none author’s note: heads up that the suit i was thinking of when writing this was the one he wears for the puck personality vids. and it’s me over-exaggerating basic ass scenes in this to hype you up cos wtf is subtlety   ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

part two | part four

“You don’t have to. You know that, right?”

It was the day after, and you wanted to cry at just how much your feet ached. You had worn those damn heels too long, and it was coming back to bite you for not taking them off sooner when you had the opportunity. His hands made small, circular motions on your feet, and you knew that he had no idea what he was doing but at least gave him an A for the endeavor. A rerun of Suits was playing in the background, and as much as you wanted to focus on that, you couldn’t help but stare at the boy in front of you. His brows were furrowed and eyes staring intensely as he put as much effort as he could into relieving you of the pain.

“I feel bad,” he replied. “Let me help make it better.”

“It was bound to happen since I don’t wear heels,” you shrugged. “Besides, shouldn’t you be getting ready to head to Rogers Place?”

Looking at the clock on his phone, he was surprised that it was already nearing that time in the evening. He stood and headed over to his bedroom to get himself ready, and you fell deeper into the couch to focus on the episode playing on the television.

Your work day was already finished earlier when you posted some old photos on Instagram and Snapchat of previous games where they played Calgary, and your boss was kind enough to give you the evening off since you could barely stand to be on your feet for more than ten minutes. However, just as you were getting comfortable on the couch, you heard a knock at the door.

“Is that Darnell?” you asked.

Stepping out of his bedroom, Connor was clad in dress pants as he made his way over to the doorway, quickly throwing on the undershirt that was in his hands.

“No, I never meet up with anyone before a game,” he answered. “I don’t know who it is.”

Lifting up the cover to the peephole, you saw Connor jump in surprise at the sight. He motioned for you to make your way to his bedroom, and you hastily threw the lap blanket off of yourself before stumbling over to his room to hide yourself under the covers.

“Hi, honey!”

Oh no. It was his parents.

“I-I thought you guys were meeting me at the arena,” Connor stuttered.

“Your mom thought we should pop on by before we head over to Rogers Place” you could hear his father.

“And where is your girlfriend, sweetie?” his mother asked.

“Uh, she’s in the bedroom getting ready too,” he replied.

You could hear more and more chatter coming through the door before Connor had finally made his way back into his bedroom, softly closing the door behind him. His footsteps were obvious as he made his way over to you, kneeling beside the bed, and you peeked your head out from under the covers. He placed an arm on the bed while his hand pulled some of your hair away from your face.

“Are they still here?” you asked.

His eyes stared off into the distance before clearing his throat as if he were scared of what was going to come out of his mouth.

“Come to my game tonight, yeah?” he said quietly.

“How could I ever say no?” you smiled.

Making your way out of bed, you followed him into the walk-in closet to start getting ready. You made sure to pull out a pair of flats tonight to save yourself from more pain, and you turned around to see Connor tucking his buttoned dress shirt into the pants. He reached into one of the drawers and grabbed a tie before twisting it into an ugly knot. Shaking your head, you undid the tie and straightened out the fabric before folding back into proper form, but as you took a step back, you realized the unsightly creases on his dress shirt need to be straightened out. After helping him put the jacket on to complete his ensemble, you took a step back to admire his selection for the evening. He always looked best wearing dark blue, and it only helped accentuate those eyes of his.

He made his way over to the connecting bathroom to finish up as you wandered around the closet to make your pick of the evening. Slowly, you started peeling piece by piece of clothing off yourself until you were only left in your panties and bra as you began to narrow down your choices.

“You should wear this one tonight,” Connor’s voice made you jump.

Suddenly you felt shy, modesty taking over you while he remained oblivious. One hand placed itself on the small of your back as the other reached towards one of the dresses hung up, and you felt a small shiver run up your backside from the contact. Sliding the dress off of the hanger, you were quick to slip into it to cover yourself from him.

“I need help,” you told him. “I can’t zip up my dress.”

“Yeah?” you heard him choke out.

He gently placed a hand on your back to hold the clothing in place as a shaking hand clumsily grabbed at the zipper. That familiar shiver was coming back, and you felt yourself getting caught up in the small gesture. It was like you were becoming vulnerable after letting him see you in such an intimate way, but it was bound to happen at some point.

“Do I look good?” you asked, turning around.

Suddenly you felt small as his eyes perused the sight of you. His mouth was slightly ajar, and when it looked like he was about to say something, you heard commotion coming from the living room, reminding you both that his parents were less than twenty feet away. Reverting your attention back to him, you noticed him awkwardly clearing his throat before making his way out into the living room, barely keeping his pace slow enough for you to follow suit.

“Oh my, look at you two!” his mother gushed. “We have to get a picture!”

“Mom, you don’t have to,” Connor insisted.

“Nonsense! I don’t even see a single picture of you two together, so I’ll get these done and framed for you before you know it. Just two seconds, honey.”

His arm found its way around your waist, something that was becoming too often these days, and you playfully pressed a quick kiss on his cheek, catching him off guard. After the flash had ceased, his mother looked pleased with the photo she’d taken, and Connor stood there with a surprised look on his face.

“No jersey?” his mom asked you as everyone started to leave the apartment.

“I just keep it in my office at work,” you lied. “It keeps it in good condition.”

“Good idea! Oh, these pictures turned out so cute. I can’t wait for you to hang these up.”

She bid you farewell in the parking garage before his parents headed off on their way, promising to meet with you again at Rogers Place. He opened the door for you to his car, and after you stepped into his Mercedes-Benz, you groaned as you a leaned back into the soft leather seat. It was supposed to be your night off to relax and binge watch some episodes, but here you were playing Mrs. McDavid again.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly muttered, starting the car and putting it in drive.

“Don’t. . . Don’t be,” you felt the guilt rising in you. “I said I’d have your back through this, and I meant what I said.”

He placed a hand on your thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze as he pulled out of the parking garage and onto the streets. The car ride was quiet for the most part which was out of the ordinary because of how talkative Connor was, and it left an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach the whole time. He didn’t say another word to you until the two of you had reached the private parking garage, away from the sight of fans.

“I’ll see you after the game,” he muttered, eyes avoiding yours.

He was quick to turn away and head in the opposite direction for the locker room, leaving you standing there alone with your hand in the air as you tried to wave goodbye to him. His change in demeanor had somewhat irritated you, but you decided not to dwell on it too much. You had bigger things to worry about that night.

As you walked through the staff entrance after sliding your keycard, you made a beeline for the merchandise closet where they kept all the extra stuff for the store stocked. It didn’t take long for you to find the stacks of McDavid jerseys as soon as you entered, and as your eyes immediately caught the breakaway jerseys, you decided to treat yourself to an authentic one instead. You figured you deserved one after all the absurdities Connor had pulled you through in the last week.

After settling on one, you grabbed it and made your way back to your office where you kept a spare change of clothes should any occasion arise, and you rolled your eyes at the thought of Connor having to deal with changing out of his suit and into his hockey gear for every single game. The dress slid off with ease, and you mentally sighed at the thought of having to put it back on later again. You changed into an undershirt and leggings before throwing the jersey on and making your way through the hallways to the staff area.

“Can’t stay away from this place too long, eh?” your boss joked.

“I figured I’d use one of my free games for tonight,” you shrugged.

Being lucky was almost an understatement as you managed to find the right excuse as to why you were at Rogers Place, and maybe you were even luckier that staff members were allowed one free game throughout the season to watch from a suite. Mentally breathing a sigh of relief, you were fortunate that you hadn’t used up your one game since you weren’t too keen on spending more time at your workplace than needed.

“McDavid’s your favorite out of all of them?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh, I just grabbed one of the extra jerseys in the back if that’s okay. I mean-I can swap it out if you need me to.”

“No, that’s fine! The amount of Flames jerseys in here is almost blinding.”

You laughed before making your way to the elevator leading to the staff suite. His parents had insisted that you sit with them in theirs, but you had fibbed to them about the company having a strict policy on where to sit for free games. The last thing you needed that evening was for fans to question who the third person was in his family’s suite.

[saad-sack]

The Anchor – Jamie Benn

A/N: Hey guys! Thank you all for the support, I really love talking to you guys! I still have a few more requests to write but they should be finished and posted with in the next 2 weeks! This imagine was written by @had-to-skjei-it and I think it’s actually really cute! This is the first series that we have made so I hope it turns out as good as I hope it will (and since Mel is writing it, I’m 100% positive it well exceed my expectations)!!

Anon Request: Can you write an imagine where you’re friends with Tyler seguin and you’re invited to his and your other best friends wedding. You’re the maid of honor and Jamie benn is the best man and you two start to flirt and by the reception you two can’t stop and he asks you to slow dance with him and then decides right there to ask for your number and to go on a date with him. Maybe make it a series?

Warnings: some pessimism and a couple curse words

Song: The Anchor by Bastille (You should all go listen to it because it is an amazing song!)

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Today was a special day. Your best friend was getting married to your other best friend. And where were you? Maid of honor. You knew it seemed silly, but you were waiting for this moment for a very long time. Your childhood friend is going to be Mrs. Tyler Seguin? That’s just about the coolest thing you could think of. You lived in Texas all your life and now your inseparable best friend is getting married to a hockey player? Wow. You met Tyler as soon at they started dating and now, your friendship with him is almost as strong as that with his fiancée.

The ceremony was long and boring, and everything was green. You, and all the bridesmaids were wearing Kelly green dresses, and all the groomsmen were wearing ties of the same shade. You stood there for what seemed like forever, waiting for the bride to walk down the aisle. Of course you were stunned when you saw her in her pearly gown with a long sparkly train. She was holding white roses with green stems (of course). You managed to get a glimpse of Tyler, who was tearing a little bit. You longed for a love like that. Someone who would think about you nonstop, and would be incapable of not smiling in your presence. You got a little sad when you thought about the love you’d never have, but you remembered this was a wedding and you should be happy for the bride and groom. You slapped a fake smile on your face, and let the ceremony continue.

You tried to think about something other than love so you decided to look at the crowd attending the wedding. There were a fair amount of family on either side. On the bride’s side, there were many other childhood friends you grew up with, and on the groom’s side, there were other tall, handsome, muscular hockey players like Tyler. Again with those thoughts? You really wanted to find someone to lean on, but this was not the time. Try not to think about all those nice, single professional hockey players. Just try.

Your mini self pep talk didn’t do you much good. A bright smile caught your eye from across the room. Of course it had to belong to a tall young man who seemed to have a nice build from what you could tell from the fit of his suit. You presumed he was another one of those hockey players. You didn’t follow hockey at all, so you had no idea what name matched that face.

What was that? Did he just, wink at you? No, that couldn’t be. Why would someone like him be even remotely interested in you? But of course you couldn’t resist that, so you shot a wink back at this unknown hockey player. Of course you got one of those one-eyebrow-raised looks back at you from this man, then another wink, and finally that bright white smile.

Little looks like those were exchanged between the two of you throughout the ceremony. Who was he? What was his name? Why does he seem so interested in me? Should I go talk to him? All of these thoughts and more flooded your head when the wedding ceremony finally concluded. 

You couldn’t find this mysterious man during the reception, all hockey players looked the same to you. They all came from Canada, Scandinavia, or Russia. If they weren’t super blonde because they were Scandinavian, they were all dark haired, with either brown or blue eyes. They were all tall, and had very broad shoulders. Many of them also had beards. This man had dark hair, dark eyes, and was clean shaven.

Your search was cut short because you were forced to sit down for the toast from the best man. You found your glass of champagne, and low and behold, this mystery man stood up and pulled out a piece of paper from his breast pocket.

His toast was peppered with jokes and small anecdotes about him and Tyler playing hockey together and what a pleasure it was to captain the team. You knew so little about hockey, that you didn’t even know the name of the captain of the Dallas Stars, who seems to have the same name as this mysterious flirty man from the ceremony. 

His eyes were scanning the tables in front of him while he was reading. He was obviously looking for something but what was it? This man was so mysterious it drew you in even more.

Finally this hockey man’s eyes made its way to your table, and found you. Your eyes locked in for a few seconds. He raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth raised a bit. He then looked down at his script again for a second, and when he looked up again, his eyes continued to scan the room.

The food was very “sub-par”. You really wanted to enjoy the lasagna that was served, but it was burned in some places and cold in other places. You ended up using you fork to move the food from one side of your plate to the other to make it look like you ate more than you actually did. Looking around your table, everyone else was doing similar things with it so it make you feel a little better. 

Finishing the food in front of you was out of the question. You knew talking to the bride and groom wasn't a great idea because their hands were full as it is. The table you were placed at was full of Tyler's old relatives, all of them were talking about this person named Jamie. Probably some little cousin causing trouble. They all ignored you anyway so the only thing you could think of doing was check your phone.

You pulled your iPhone out of your purse to see snapchat notifications from about 5 different people. You didn't care to look at them. Your lock screen was of you with Tyler and his then-fiancée. You were such a third wheel. It's because they were your two best friends. Of course you hung out with them a lot. But they were deeply in love and you knew that deep down all three of you knew you were hanging out with them too much because of course everyone wants some private time with their SO to kiss or whatever lovers do. You wouldn't know. You've been single all your life. Not because you were ugly or anything, just the guys who were always hitting on you were the wrong type. They were the type who would make one night stands all the time and you didn't want to be any part of that. How much you wished for love! Real love. None of this one night stand bullshit. Just someone to talk to who you could lean on when you've had a bad day. Someone who will say you looked beautiful when you feel like shit on the inside. You just wanted that special someone in your life. And he would be yours and only yours. And you would be his and only his. You didn't want to be a third wheel, and always awkward because your two best friends were in a relationship and you were just there. You wanted-

“Hey.” A deep voice said as you felt a warm hand on your bare, cool shoulder. These green bridesmaid dresses were suited for the Texas weather, but not for these rooms with excessive air conditioning. You turned around to see the mystery man smiling back at you.

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

@had-to-skjei-it would like for me to tell you guys that she is sorry that part 1 is boring (even though I think it’s a wonderful start to the series!) and she promises the next part will be more interesting!