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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 2 months ago

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you never knew how much i really liked you - s. crosby

summary: 'In truth, it wasn’t nothing – it was never nothing with Sid. It was always something, and usually it hurt. The timings; what wasn’t said; the history. There was more to the two of you than what even Nate and Taylor knew of – not even when they seemed to stop breathing when you admitted what it could be.'

warnings: sid x f!reader (ex-hockey player), swearing, miscommunication trope, mentions of the consumption of alcohol, bonus point if you spot the unintentional olivia rodrigo lyric, mentions of food aversion (in relation to illness & hints at anxiety), passing mentions of someone potentially having alcohol poisoning, confrontation

< a/n: the ending is abrupt but i can't be arsed changing it! sorry! ALSO: IT'S PENS PRE-SEASON DAY!! >

word count: 13k

There was a chair, this time. They’d never been a chair there before, ever. You’d been to this house and you’d sat on the end of the deck with your feet hanging over the edge countless times in the last decade or so, but there had never been a chair there before, at least not one that didn’t have to be dragged from inside and unfolded.

It didn’t particularly strike you as odd or anything, but it did stop you in your tracks at the top of the deck, and you did try to see if you could see him through the windows of his house, but it was early so the sun only reflected against the glass panes, completely blocking your view. But you’d seen his car in the driveway, and you knew he’d be up – probably eating his breakfast or in the gym already.

You gripped your book a little tighter, making your way towards the end of the pontoon and assessing the chair with your own eyes. You almost laughed at the blanket draped across the back of it, but it didn’t stop you from picking it up and covering yourself with it after you got settled.

It was a lovely morning, it always was here, and it was partly why you loved arriving earlier: there was something about the crispness of the sun in the morning and the rawness of the view. It wasn’t one you could ever imagine getting tired of. The water was gorgeous, the trees were gorgeous, the sky was gorgeous, the birds were gorgeous. As usual, it took you a while to work yourself up to actually pick up your book and tear your attention away from the view.

It was a muffled bark that finally did it, your fingers absent-mindedly playing with the pages of the book, and you turned to peer around the side of the chair, a golden labrador bounding down the pontoon, tongue lolling out and ears flapping as she did. You grinned, sitting forward in the chair and anticipating Sam to stop right in front of you, her tail wagging ferociously as you scratched behind her ears.

“Good morning to you, too.” You muttered, clenching your jaw and stroking her fur as she collapsed to lay at your feet, her belly exposed for you to scratch, “Where’s Sid?” At the mention of his name, Sam’s ears perked up and she barked, her head turning to something behind you, “Is he walking down now?” You didn’t turn around, instead focusing your attention entirely on the pup in front of you – until the pair of footsteps echoing against the wood became too noticeable to ignore.

The sun was still blinding from reflecting off the patio doors, but the silhouette of Sid was nearly impossible to ignore, more so when he was effortlessly carrying another chair in one arm and a travel flask with two cups balanced on the lid in the other.

You shielded your eyes with your hand, about to get up to help him in some way, but he shook his head adamantly, “I got it. Here.” He passed you the mug with the cups, and you sat silently, watching him unfold the chair (it looked a lot less comfortable than the one he’d set out for you, though you didn’t comment on it) and settled himself in.

“Morning.” You greeted, passing him one cup before unscrewing the lid and sniffing.

“Morning.” He replied, grinning, “It’s decaf, by the way.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, “Thank you.”

“‘Course.”

“Are you sure you wanna put this in your body this early?” You asked, taking his cup from him and pouring out the steaming coffee. It warmed your hands nicely through the plastic, and you snuck a look at him out of the corner of your eye. He was sitting comfortably, a little lower than you because of the height of his chair, and he was watching you carefully, completely unashamed at having been caught in the act. His grin did seem to melt into one more bashful, and he looked out across the water, blinking in the light.

“I feel like I’m gonna need it to get through today.” He answered, gently taking his cup from your hand, fingertips brushing delicately against yours.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be pretty hectic.” You agreed, placing the flask on the floor, giving Sam a quick pat before sipping on your own coffee, your book tucked under your chair. You had a feeling you weren’t going to get much reading done now anyway, not when Sid had decided to join you.

You both leaned back in your chairs, the blanket tucked around your waist, and nothing was said for around ten minutes. Nothing needed to be said. Even Sam seemed to get that message; she was curled up at both your feet, her head turned in the direction of the water. Every so often she’d perk up, maybe when a bird flew overhead or when she heard something in the woodland, but she’d always end up placing her head back down on the wooden beams, bathing in the sun.

“This is always my favourite week of the entire year.” You admitted a little shyly. It wasn’t something you were afraid of saying out loud, per se, but you’d known Sid for years. He was the one that started the week-long camp for the kids in Cole Harbour, and for some reason admitting that it was his creation that you always looked forward to the most was a little daunting.

He didn’t seem to think so, but he couldn’t quite keep the shock off his face when he registered what it was you’d said.

“It is?”

You nodded, “Is that sad? I feel like it is.”

He shook his head, “Nah, it’s not sad at all.”

If it had been anyone else that had admitted that, Sid might have teased a little – or if you’d said something else altogether, but almost as soon as you’d thrown those words out there he felt a twinge of empathy for you. To have played hockey with each other most of your youth…you’d obviously stopped playing against and with boys at a certain age because of the regulations, but you’d managed to secure a spot on a local girl’s team and eventually you’d gone on to play at college. And by the time graduation came around, you had your degree, sure, but there was no women’s hockey league to play for, not one you could live comfortably off anyway.

Sid had often tried to put himself in your shoes…it killed him every time, like getting stabbed in the chest. Only, when you said that, the knife twisted and was pulled out, and he swore his heart broke a little. To have the skill and the talent to play professionally, but no league to play in was his worst nightmare.

To not have hockey, to him, was to not live and breathe. If he didn’t have hockey, he couldn’t even imagine what he’d be doing right now.

You just hummed, clearly not believing him, and he inhaled sharply, resisting the urge to give you a reassuring touch. He was about to say something, but you turned to look at him sharply, an odd expression on your face.

“What?” He found himself asking, taking a self-conscious sip of the coffee to hide his face.

Your eyes narrowed, and a small smile curled at your lips, “Aren’t you gonna make a comment about ‘wow, you must really miss me, huh?’, or–”

“I don’t sound like that.” He shook his head, managing a tight smile. You were trying to cover a wound that had scarred over the years by switching the subject, but Sid could only muster a forced laugh and a curious glance in your direction, “Did you miss me, though?”

There was a brief moment where he thought you’d play his question off and pretend you hadn’t heard him, and in that brief moment there were a few things that happened to him: his heart seemed to pound and drop to his feet at the same time; he realised that if you didn’t miss him he wasn’t quite sure what else to do, and regret. The regret was anticipatory, though, of you ignoring him.

And it also seemed to dissolve completely when you answered: “Yeah. Not as much as I used to, though.”

Sid swallowed, picking at his navy joggers. Instead of regret, it was guilt that ate away at him – for something he couldn’t even control.

“What do you mean?” His mouth felt dry, and his grip on the cup tightened.

You turned to look at him, shrugging hopelessly, “That first year without you was just a lot to adjust to, that’s all.”

“It was?”

Something on your face seemed to flicker; your brows twitched downwards and any trace of happiness that was previously written on your face was suddenly no longer visible. Your head tilted, and you stuttered, clearly not quite knowing what to say or where to start.

“I…” You trailed off, and Sid felt the beginnings of dread begin to creep up his stomach and settle there like a pebble, “Yeah. You didn’t know that?”

He shook his head, jaw clenching. You looked inexplicably sad at his reply, and turned to fix your eyes on the water in front of you, a sip of scalding coffee seemingly hinting at wanting to end the conversation.

But Sid wasn’t quite done, not yet. His first year in the NHL: he remembered it pretty clearly, and he also remembered that neither of you were that good at keeping in touch with each other. You were on the other side of the country in California for college, and he was mainly in Pittsburgh, but nearly everywhere. Moving out of Nova Scotia was a big thing for both of you, but having lived next door to each other for your entire childhood and having played on the same team as little kids? That first year was difficult.

“Did something happen?” He asked, voice a little frailer than he’d liked to have conveyed – so much so that even Sam’s ears seemed to prick at the slight twinge in pitch.

You shook your head, sighing deeply, “I just kind of had the sense that I was never gonna see you again those first few months, that’s all. I psyched myself out…it’s fine now, though.”

***

“Is Sid okay?” Taylor sidled up to you on the edge of the group of kids listening intently to the man in question, skates scratching to a stop as she murmured the question in your ear.

You felt your brows pinch, your gloved hands resting on the top of your stick hiding your mouth as you turned to her, “As far as I’m aware.”

He looked okay from where you were standing: the very picture of effortless leadership as he explained the next game to the group of kids all staring up at him intently, some with dropped jaws and some with frowns of concentration etched on their features. They were all wearing monochrome jerseys and the overhead lights were reflecting off their helmets. Not a single one wasn’t watching Sid talk.

His voice wasn’t wavering, and he was giving the kids his entire attention – devoted as usual to his sport…so?

“Why?” You raised a brow, looking at Taylor out of the corner of your eye.

Her mouth was pulled down at the corners, and she shrugged offhandedly, “I dunno, he just seems a bit off today.”

Yeah, okay. You turned your attention back to him, trying to commit every little motion of his hand to memory, intently keeping an eye out for any trembling or straying of his attention. It must have been another fifteen seconds before you sighed, turning back to Taylor, who was regarding you with an air of amusement, a sly smile hiding on her face.

“What?” You asked, feeling as though she was looking right through you.

“Nothing.” Then, after a pause, “Did he drive you over here?”

You hummed, nodding, but your mind was stuck replaying and analysing what she’d previously said, “What did you mean by ‘off’?”

“What’s up with Sid?”

Your heart thundered in shock, not having anticipated Nate to shuffle over to your other shoulder. His voice in your ear was jarring, but still as soft as yours and Taylor’s had been, not wanting to disrupt the talk at the front of the group.

“What do you mean?”

“Three guesses.”

You and Taylor spoke up at the same time, and when you turned to look at her she was glaring at you rather pointedly, and Nate whistled lowly in your ear, a deep laugh shaking his ribs.

“No way, what did you say to him?” Nate asked, half-giggling, and you sighed, getting slightly infuriated by the lack of real answers and use of cryptic mutters that had you no closer to figuring out exactly just what they were on about.

A part of you was losing your cool a bit because you liked to think you knew Sid pretty well; in fact, you did know him pretty well. It was why you couldn’t possibly fathom another two minutes in the presence of these two without getting an answer, because he’d been like this since…

Oh.

Nate’s laughter immediately halted, and Taylor leaned forward, the two of them sharing a cautious look at the way you seemed to wince.

“What?” They chorused, the combination of their voices causing a few heads to turn in your direction, and you ducked your head, adjusting your skates as an excuse not to draw even more attention to yourself.

After a nudge in the elbow, you lifted your head up.

There was no way that was what was causing him to be more distracted than usual. It wasn’t even a big deal or anything, and it certainly wasn’t a secret – you thought he knew, that wasn’t your fault. And it wasn’t like he’d actually done anything all those years ago, either. That first year was almost radio silence on both ends, and you were honestly glad that wasn’t the case now.

But, still? No way.

“It’s not much, I don’t even think it could be what I’m thinking anyway.” You shook your head, watching him.

“What’re you thinking?” Taylor whispered, the lip of her cap catching you in the cheek with how close she’d shuffled.

You recoiled slightly, “It’s genuinely nothing. He just apparently didn’t know that I missed him the first year.” Your voice trailed off weakly, “Nothing.”

In truth, it wasn’t nothing – it was never nothing with Sid. It was always something, and usually it hurt. The timings; what wasn’t said; the history. There was more to the two of you than what even Nate and Taylor knew of – not even when they seemed to stop breathing when you admitted what it could be.

There were weeks and months and years where you didn’t talk much, mostly due to the distance and the clashing of schedules, but there was a lull that you’d both managed to keep from everyone else, and if you were being honest, now that you were thinking about it…that and with your earlier admission on top of it…

Maybe it was your fault.

“What did he say?” Taylor said, shaking you out of your own head. You blinked, apparently still looking at Sid.

There was something grave and more serious in her features that hadn’t been there earlier, and when you shot a look at Nate, he was wearing an almost identical expression: his brows were furrowed together and his mouth was pulled in a tight line, altogether looking uncharacteristically morbid.

You felt your pulse quicken in foreboding, “He asked if anything happened and then we got in the car.”

“Nothing else?”

You inhaled, blinking twice, “Should there have been?”

***

The car ride back to your house was silent. Eerily so. Your body was exhausted and your brain was still playing the soundtrack of pucks smacking against posts, sticks and boards in your head, along with the joyous yells of the kids. That was why you loved it so much – not just the ice time and the familiarity of having a stick in your hands and a puck at your feet – but for the look on their faces when they looked up from the ice to see a grinning Sidney Crosby or Nathan MacKinnon singing them praises.

It made you wonder how many of them would eventually go on to play college hockey or even make it to the professional leagues.

You stifled a grin, your hand over your mouth as you turned to look out of the passenger window.

The only thing that broke through to you was the motion of the driver when his head turned to watch you briefly before returning back to the road. That simple movement had the smile melting off your face.

You’d never been particularly nervous around Sid – and on the few occasions you had been, all it had taken was a fifteen minute conversation with him and it all dissipated – but this time was different. Not only was what Taylor had told you swirling around your mind, but the tension in the car was palpable, at least in your opinion.

Sid hadn’t said much, just kept his jaw clenched and his eyes focused on the road. Since this morning, it was probably the only glaringly obvious symptom that something wasn’t quite right, or something was playing on his mind.

It didn’t take much for you to box your own miseries and turn to him. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye first: the strong jaw, the full lips, the prominent nose, the dark eyes and darker hair. He really was quite breathtaking. The hands on the steering wheel, the rippling forearms each time he had to turn the wheel. It wasn’t something you were immune to at all: in fact, since the age of about fourteen you’d been hyper aware of the fact that Sid was stunning – and it wasn’t just in his looks, either. His work ethic, concentration, determination, kindness, generosity. He was the insurmountable sum of all of those qualities, and you were a damn fool if you didn’t recognise the fact that you’d been a tiny bit in love with him all your life.

And because of that, you knew him well. Not as well as some people might initially assume, but well enough.

“You okay?” You asked, earning nothing but a nod and a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, why?”

You shrugged, “You’re just quiet.”

“I’m tired, that’s all.”

You nodded, looking to your lap. He’d be tired the entire week, that was always how this went. But he’d get by and he’d manage and he’d recover like he wasn’t tired: he still kept smiling, still showed enthusiasm, and maybe he’d gotten used to it over the years, because you could have sworn each time he organised this he was less and less tired.

“You sleeping okay?”

He nodded, running a hand from his wrist to scratch under his sleeve, and you followed the motion unconsciously with your eyes, “More than. You?”

You shrugged, pulling an unsure face, “The usual.”

He snuck another glance at you out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to the road ahead, “What about you, are you okay?” He echoed your own question back to you, and maybe if it wasn’t for the genuine thin film of concern to his voice, you’d have brushed it off with an answer and a huff of laughter. Instead, though, you parrotted his words back to him, nailing the equal part-suspicion and amusement.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re hilarious.” He shot back drily, shaking his head.

“Hey, can you drop me off at my parents’ house please, I need to collect something. I’ll literally be five minutes.”

It was Taylor’s voice in your head that kept bashing about, repeating words and flashing images – Nate was thrown in there too from that earlier conversation you’d all had when Sid was oblivious, and it didn’t let up, not even when you pushed the key into your childhood home and shut the door behind you.

The house was pretty quiet, the sound of the door shutting echoing down the hallway. The TV was flashing in the living room, and you could hear voices, from both the news anchors and your parents talking over it. Only then did Taylor’s words quieten.

“Who is it?” A voice yelled out just as you’d scraped your shoes off your feet, and the smile that bloomed on your face was almost instantaneous.

“Your favourite child!”

There was a brief pause, and you stopped in the hallway, waiting until he replied.

“That doesn’t sound like Sid.”

You pulled a face, snatching a pair of socks from the staircase before entering the living room, pelting the ball at your Dad’s head, the soft cotton smacking him straight in the nose. He was sitting in his PJs: plaid bottoms and a crumpled top, with slippers and no socks on his feet. When the socks collided with his face, that smirk was still there, even as he lobbed them back at you with surprising force to say he didn’t have a lot of arm room.

“Nice to see you, too.” You rolled your eyes, smiling at your Mom, who’d since gotten up off the sofa to peer through the blinds.

“What’re you doing?” Your Dad asked, turning his attention to his wife, and before she’d even answered you knew what she was going to say.

“Sid’s outside in the car.” You said, shrugging when they both turned to you with equal appal written all over their faces.

“Get him in here.” Your Mom grinned, knocking on the window and motioning for the man himself to come inside.

You just rolled your eyes, “I’m just gonna go get something from upstairs.” Your words fell on deaf ears, however, because almost as soon as you’d taken initiative and left the room, the front door was shutting and Sid was standing, smiling, at the door, still decked out in camp kit and looking every bit as nervous as the first time he’d ever met your family. And then he seemed to spot you walking towards him, your parents in front of you, and he let out that telltale breath, his shoulders and face relaxing fractionally.

He’d explained it to you before, about how he still feels awkward meeting people’s parents, no matter how long he’s known them, and you never seem to remember that until you see it with your own eyes: I don’t know, it’s weird, but if I see, say you, someone I know, it kinda gets me out of my head a bit. I don’t know why.

“Come in, come in – oh, she’s just picking something up–”

You immediately turned on the stairs, one hand still clutching the bannister tightly, to look upon a pair of eyes that practically gleamed ‘don’t leave me here’. The rest of his face was pretty neutral, a polite smile as your parents chatted his ears off, the both of them making their way back into the house, and there was a split second where they weren’t looking at either of you.

For some reason, instead of laughing at his misfortune, you inhaled quickly, leaning over the bannister, “Wait, I need Sid’s help with something.”

Everyone seemed to freeze. Even despite the mental pleading he’d been doing, Sid couldn’t help it when his lips parted in shock, kind of like he couldn’t help it when his brows knitted together. Your mom stopped talking about how nice it was to see Sid again, and looked up at you too. It looked as though she was about to say something, but with the guilty, rather hurried smile on your face she clamped her mouth shut, nodding. Your dad hadn’t stopped walking, but even from the other room the rather loud ‘mutter’ of, “Is that what we’re calling it, now?”

Needless to say, both yours and Sid’s cheeks were still a little bit pink by the time you’d walked into your old bedroom.

“What’re you looking for?” He asked, desperate to get his mind out of that gutter, and flopped on your still-made bed, picking up the penguin teddy he’d brought home after his draft. He’d bought it in one of the stores in the airport in Toronto on his way back home, and you’d never had the heart to even move it out of this house: it belonged here.

“Do you remember that video camera I used to have?” You pulled open the first contender: the bedside table drawer. There were loose cables, hair ties, various joint support bands…but no sign of the camera.

“Yeah.” Came the reply from near your head, and you blinked, not expecting him to be so close. He’d rolled onto his front, his face smushed into your pillow, and he made no attempt to pretend as though he hadn’t been watching you rifle through your drawers – at least not if that cheeky grin didn’t automatically make its way onto his face.

You pushed his forehead back, stopping your mild attack when he screamed before dissolving into giggles severely reminiscent of when he was younger. It was so incredibly infectious, so incredibly nostalgic that all you could do was crouch, an unconscious open-mouthed smile on your face.

“Why are you laughing?” You slammed the drawer shut, heaving yourself off the floor and over to your old desk. There were still some notebooks scattered across the surface, pens in the stand. The cupboard and shelves were almost full, and it was only as you started to pull everything out, looking inside baskets and boxes that Sid could be bothered to speak again.

“Because I’m pretty sure we had this exact conversation when we were twenty.”

“We did?”

“Yeah.” He punctuated it with a sigh, a despondent one, and you looked at him over your shoulder. He was sitting up now, his hands clamped around his ankles, a thoughtful look on his face.

The ‘twenty’ year with Sid had been very weird, and you never really figured out why. The nineteenth was almost non-existent, the twenty-first good, but it was tinged by what happened at the end of his season (not the winning the Stanley Cup for the first time, but the other thing), which made your twenty-second awkward, and the twenty-third was almost like a reset. You never really realised how much you’d both changed until you got to relearn each other as adults.

He was eyeing the corner of your room you tried to avoid looking at.

“So why are you looking for the camera?” He asked, voice sounding far-away. He was still staring at the trophy corner, and you turned your attention back to rifling through old relics in the hunt, gladly looking anywhere but that shrine.

“If I told you Taylor would murder me in my sleep.”

He groaned, “I told her not to do anything for my birthday.”

“It’s nothing big, I think she just wants photos from when we were younger.”

“We?”

You shrugged, missing the slight catch in his voice, “Well, you, but there’s loads of photos of you on my camera, I think she just wants a look. I always forget how young she was when we left.” You sighed, slamming the cupboard door on your desk shut, before standing in the middle of your room, hands on your hips, “I don’t know where else I could have put it.”

He didn’t say anything, but the creaky springs of your mattress groaned under his hands as he pushed himself up off your bed, before walking straight passed you and into the forbidden corner.

There was a clinking sound of metal, and you whirled on your heel, watching him carefully rifle through the trophies, photo frames, certificates and medals all hung and displayed neatly, before spinning around on his heel, holding the camera in his hand with a knowing look on his face.

***

Saying you were nervous was a bit of an understatement considering what it was you were about to do. The camera’s SD card was safely tucked into your laptop, but you’d been staring at the folder on the homescreen for ten minutes, and you were sure you hadn’t felt this nervous since your driving test. Your hands were clammy, your heart was racing and your brain was loud.

You’d lied to Sid earlier – well, partially. Taylor had wanted to look at some photos, and you had every intention on bringing the camera in to the rink tomorrow so you could giggle at the contents in your breaks, but there was something else she’d also said, something that got your brain working, and you hadn’t been able to think about anything else since.

You inhaled shakily, before double-clicking the yellow folder, the seconds where the mouse loaded into a swirl of blue almost knocking your soul out of your body from the sheer anxiety of it all. You hoped you were wrong, but a small part of you hoped Taylor had been right. If she had, it’d make so much sense as to what happened when you were eighteen-nineteen, but if she was right? You weren’t entirely sure what you were going to do.

The screen flooded with images…school corridors, ice rinks, soccer fields, bedrooms, cars, bars, Rimouski, until–

Fuck.

You froze, eyes fixated on the one photo that had caught your eye. It was someone’s back garden, you couldn’t remember who exactly, but you remembered being there. It was dark, string lights and strobe lights hung across the verandah and neon streaks flickered from between plants.

You’d drunk so much that night but you could still remember handing your camera off to some of your classmates – it must have been graduation – and everyone had been drinking, that much you could tell from the quality of the photos, and this one in particular wasn’t any different. It was a blurred photo of someone celebrating a beer pong game, their arms raised over their head and their mouth open in some kind of celebratory roar, but it wasn’t that that caught your attention.

It was the shadowy figures of two teenagers sitting on the stools towards one side of the garden, a makeshift table pressed against the wall. They were sitting close together, knees slotted between each other, and faces mere inches apart. Both were wearing grins, even despite being mid-kiss.

Shadowy, yet so unmistakably you and Sid.

***

“You okay?”

You blinked, the staff room coming back to you. The fluorescent lights glared along the surface of the table you’d picked, your lunch tray sitting untouched in front of you, and there was a general buzz about the place. It was lunchtime, and you’d opted out of kid-duty – partly because you were on the brink of giving yourself a headache and mostly just because you couldn’t really focus on much without immediately thinking about Sid – which meant sitting at a table in a quiet room by yourself just for a breather.

Only, a rather determined, hazel-eyed man seemed to have other ideas if the tray plopped down opposite you was anything to go by. He collapsed against the chair with a sigh, hands picking up his knife and fork with practised ease, and he hadn’t even given you a chance to answer his question before he was pausing, eyeing you with mild concern. His eyebrows knitted together and he ducked his head to try to get a closer read on you.

“Yeah.” You nodded, swallowing, almost nervous.

This thing had happened all those years ago and he’d never brought it up. Yet, that still didn’t explain why he’d then…he was confusing, in the present tense.

His mouth turned downwards for a brief moment and he shook his head in disbelief, “You disappeared ten minutes ago and you haven’t touched your food.”

You just shrugged, managing a tight smile, “Not very hungry.”

It wasn’t a lie, per se, but it was the honest truth when your stomach rolled just as he put a forkful of food in his own mouth. It revolted you to such an extent you pushed your own tray further away and turned to sit sideways on your chair, all just so you wouldn’t have to look at him eat.

He froze, his fork stilling, “Are you…I can take the food away if you want?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes, “No, it’s fine.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and your hand found its way into the pocket of your tracksuit bottoms, fingers finding the smooth plastic of the USB stick you’d copied the photos for Taylor on. You had a plan, see. You wanted to kind of broach the topic of the graduation party with Sid, mainly just to test him for a reaction without outrightly admitting anything, and you figured – despite your current situation – that now was…appropriate.

“Do you know where Taylor is?” You asked, keeping your eyes screwed shut.

“No, why?” His answer came all too quickly, a hint of nosiness creeping into his tone. You could imagine the slight raise of one eyebrow and the thinly veiled look of ‘why the heck are you wanting my sister?’ expression on his face. You’d seen it many times before, and it never ceased to amuse.

“I have that USB of photos to give her and I haven’t seen her all morning, I was just wondering if you knew where she was?”

He would, of course. If one thing was ever going to be guaranteed about Sidney Crosby, it was the protective ‘eye’ he kept on Taylor.

“She’s in the canteen. Did you find any good’ens on there?”

“Yeah, actually.” You peeled your eyes open, ensuring to keep them fixated on his face instead of the sickly pile of food on his plate, “Do you remember that graduation party?”

He chewed thoughtfully, his jaw slowing as he nodded his head cautiously, “Yeah.” He said, dragging the word out, and there was a prick of pink on his cheeks, as though he’d suddenly come under a severe amount of stress.

He was getting a little uncomfortable.

“There’s a photo of…Jack, I think it is? Is that right?” He nodded, “He clearly won a game of beer pong or something because there’s a couple of blurry photos of him celebrating and if you look really closely you can see us in the background. It must have been towards the end of the night or something because I looked like I was falling everywhere.”

He nodded, humming interestedly, “What were we doing?”

You felt your mouth part, almost shocked at the sudden ease rolling off his shoulders. It was as though he’d prepared himself to deny, deny, deny this for his entire life, and purely because you were feeling like shit and like a shit, you shrugged, “Couldn’t really…make it out, I don’t know. I can’t remember what happened that night anyway, I drank way too much.”

He nodded once more, shrugging, “Yeah, I remember having to hold your hair back and almost dialling for an ambulance because I was pretty sure you had alcohol poisoning.”

You nodded, staging a faux look of confusion, “Did anything happen that night? You were really weird for a couple of days after.”

There was a pause – a brief one, maybe a quarter of a second, and he looked straight at you, jaw frozen mid-chew and for a moment you thought he’d picked up on something and you were found out. Then he blinked, and with the way he was acting: sitting up straighter, almost hesitating saying something, you thought maybe he was about to tell the truth.

“No.” He pulled a face, “Nothing happened that I can remember.”

***

It turned out the aversion to food was part of a larger issue, a result most likely of possibly contracting a bug from one of the kids – or maybe you were just horrendously unlucky, because you spent the rest of the night in the bathroom, and were so unwell the next morning you had to cancel helping out at Sid’s camp.

He’d sent a string of texts and a few unanswered phone calls, but you didn’t really have the energy to answer them – not when you were feeling so weird around him. You’d thought, prior to finding out about the photos and what had actually happened (bless Taylor’s oblivious nosiness when Nate had asked about you guys before – Sid had actually admitted to the whole graduation thing to the blonde, and that was Taylor’s knowledge of the entire thing), that you and Sid had maintained a pretty honest friendship, but apparently not? You wouldn’t have been so put off by the whole thing if he hadn’t pulled that same stunt later down the line, either.

There was definitely a pattern, and he definitely had a pattern and it seemed to just be deny, deny, deny at all cost.

And you weren’t entirely sure when this had happened, but you’d come to the realisation that you were sick of pretending like the two of you hadn’t been dancing that line for years. What you’d thought was seven years of denial was actually ten. This thing had been going on since you were kids, and each time something had happened you’d get weird around each other and when you tried to talk about it he’d make some excuse.

If it wasn’t a big deal why did it always have such a big impact on the two of you?

That entire thought process was what you’d been unable to escape from nearly all day. No amount of episodes of TV shows or films could distract your brain from that little spiel, it was like having a grating voice go on and on in your ear and you weren’t quite sure how to proceed, what to do to distract yourself.

Your kettle clicked off, and you sniffed, reaching out to grab the handle, the steam from the boiling water offering some kind of relief from the pressure in your sinuses.

You really were ill, but not nearly as ill as you’d made out to be to Sid. In truth you just needed a break, mostly from him, which felt horrendous to admit considering your ‘break’ from that man consisted of an entire NHL season, and your days spent in each other’s company were severely limited anyway.

But there was something in you that knew if you saw his face you wouldn’t be able to hold back saying or doing something.

Taylor knew what was really going on, and if you knew Taylor like you thought you did that probably meant Nate knew, but you know Nate well enough now to guess he wouldn’t go blabbing to Sid about something that’s not his business. The blonde likes his gossip, but he knows when to stay out of certain situations.

You liked Nate.

You inhaled, the hot water turning a bright-yellow from the teabag you’d placed in the mug (a lemon and ginger one you’d managed to snag from a local store a few days ago), and it was just as you’d threaded your fingers through the mug handle that there was a knock at your door.

You froze, brain a little slow to understand you should be moving to answer it, when a voice could be heard through the frosted glass panes.

The mug seemed to slam against the countertop of its own going, not loud enough for the intruder to hear it but loud enough to satisfy your irritation at who it was.

Think of the devil and he shall indeed appear.

He quieted down for a few seconds and you ducked from where you were standing, knowing if he made his way around to the back of the house where your kitchen window was he wouldn’t be able to see you crouched behind the counter.

And then your phone started ringing. It didn’t exactly take a genius to know who it was and the eye roll came almost automatically.

He could be so dramatic sometimes.

It must have taken barely ten seconds for him to stop ringing, and you held your breath, desperately trying to figure out if he’d moved away and given up; your knees and hips were seizing, you could feel them begin to lock from not having moved nearly all day, and you winced, hand reaching up to grip the countertop.

If you were lucky he wouldn’t be looking—

“I can see your hand and your tea.” His muffled voice deadpanned and you sighed defeated, pulling yourself up.

He was standing in your backyard, his phone in his hand and a rather disappointed look on his face as he stared straight at you through the window.

You had to give him credit where it was due: the man could certainly kick up a fuss and coax you out of hiding.

Granted, you weren’t allocated a set amount of time to even begin to make it look like you were really holed up in bed. If you had, the TV downstairs would be off, as would the lights, and there wouldn’t be an easily visible makeshift blanket bed on the couch. All he’d really had to do was walk along your drive to peer through the front window, and then walk straight down the side of your house to the back gate.

You’d kept it unlocked for the last couple of days because you hadn’t been in much to accept parcels, and you’d never gotten round to locking it again.

Of course you’d come to regret that immediately.

The back door lock clicked open as you twisted the key, and you didn’t spare him a glance, instead making a beeline for the half-made tea. For one, you knew watching him walk through the door with his current sulk on was only going to encourage him to start talking about it, and you absolutely weren’t about to give him that satisfaction. You also really wanted that tea, it was probably the only thing standing between you getting better for the camp and the weird sickness you’d managed to contract.

Your immune system was shit.

He cleared his throat, and you lifted your eyes lazily in his direction, taking out the tea bag and leaving it to drain, “Hi.”

Your voice was scratchy and rough, and the reaction it elicited from the man in front of you: brows raised, mouth dropping open, sprung a rather odd thought to the forefront of your mind: “Did you not believe me when I said I was sick?” You managed, laughing awkwardly and inhaling the vapour from your mug, watching him closely.

He shrugged, pulling off his jacket and hanging it up on the hooks. There was a spare hook, one not used for your own stuff: a plethora of raincoats, boots, kitchen aprons…and Sid’s jacket.

“I did believe you. Kind of.” He admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning back against the kitchen counter, “I thought you were maybe avoiding me, though.”

You blinked, keeping your face neutral, actively trying not to scoff at him or narrow your eyes in his direction, “I am avoiding you; I’m not about to give whatever this is to you, am I?” You asked softly, cradling the mug of tea under your chin, feeling the irritation begin to swirl under your skin already.

You shifted uncomfortably, and Sid watched your eyes dart to a chair pressed up against the wall with longing. He knew there was something up, something not linked to being sick – he’d felt it in the car earlier and you were practically drenched in tension yesterday. It was difficult to ignore, and judging from the way you’d been seeking out Taylor recently he had a feeling it might have been something to do with him.

What, though, he had no idea.

“Well,” he inhaled, mouth flattening into a straight line. His chest seemed to ache suddenly when you nodded, an almost sarcastic grin on your lips, purposefully avoiding looking in his direction, and he’d known you long enough by now to know when you wanted him out of the house. Now it was no different, “Thank you, I appreciate the thought.”

An uncomfortable silence.

He wanted to scream.

“I best be going.” He hurried out, the words almost getting tangled in his mouth, and before he could cause himself more harm by looking at you and the action not being reciprocated, he turned his back and reached automatically for the coat he’d literally just hung up.

Sid had never been a cryer – he didn’t class himself as an emotional guy, which was why he was so shocked at the sudden burning of his eyes and the tightness in his throat. Fuck, he couldn’t cry here. One, because it’s embarrassing, and two: he had no clue why he was upset to this extent.

He’d managed to put his arms through his sleeves, just about to start zipping it up after a quick glance at the sky outside when you suddenly spoke, voice somehow even rougher than before.

“What reason would I be avoiding you for?”

Sid froze, swallowing nervously. It didn’t take a genius, even in that exact moment, to dissect the words you’d chosen to come to the conclusion that you’d picked them carefully. Not ‘what made you think I was avoiding you?’ which would certainly have been easier for him to answer, but he had a feeling you knew that.

It was pretty obvious from the avoidance at lunch yesterday and the weird behaviour in the car the day before that, and then the cold shoulder and lack of interest in conversation now, that something was wrong. The signs were pretty subtle, though, he had to give you that.

He turned slowly, fingers detaching from his zipper. You were now sitting at the chair against the wall, knees tucked up to your chin, the hot mug of tea still clasped in your hands. Your eyes were a little red, probably due to exhaustion, and your hair had been twisted to sit across one shoulder, attention faced solely and rather intensely on him.

“Uhm–” he cleared his throat, blinking quickly to rid of the shining moisture in his eyes. He could feel his heart racing against his sternum, and he wondered briefly if you could hear it from across the room, “I don’t know.” He muttered sadly, eyes flicking to his shoes.

Camp had been great today, as it usually was, but he always found himself scanning the ice for your familiar face.

You nodded, sighing with disappointment, and Sid felt himself deflate. His fingers tapped against his thigh seven, eight times before he inhaled, throwing the words out in the open before he lost the courage to do so.

“What’s going on with you?” He was about three seconds away from stamping his foot; he was so desperate to know the answer. It was childish and it was stupid, but it meant something to him when you shrugged, eyes suddenly misty.

He knew what you were going to say before you even said it, but he kept quiet anyway.

“Nothing.” You sounded as wrecked as he felt, a hint of sheer resignation in your voice. It was so uncharacteristic of you: to Sid it was as if you’d not only given up on whatever it was that was bothering you but you’d given up on hiding that something was ever wrong in the first place.

It was a victory, no matter how small.

“Come on.” He took a step closer, quite literally on the verge of begging, “Really? That’s all you’ve got?”

Silence.

“I know you. Better than anyone–”

The expression on your face changed immediately, and it felt as though you’d socked him in the chest. You didn’t believe him.

You didn’t believe him.

“I want to know you better than anyone else does.” He sighed, hands pressing against his temples before he dropped them back to his sides, not quite registering what his words meant. They’d flown out of his mouth before he even heard them in his brain, and even when he’d spoken them out loud it felt surreal. He wasn’t sure what was what with all the blood rushing in his ears.

It was because of that, trapped inside himself and his own mind that he failed to register the look on your face.

“Even still,” he continued, plopping himself down on the chair on the other side of the table from you, hands knitted together on the tabletop. He was leaning right across the table but you haven't moved an inch, “This…This, you being quiet, withdrawn, skipping a day of camp – I know you’re sick and everything, but that’s never stopped you before, not when it comes to hockey.” He paused, taking a breath, “What’s going on?”

You took a sip of tea, ignoring the scalding sensation against your tongue in favour of stalling. If you didn’t say anything now, then you probably never would. In fact, if he hadn’t said what he’d just said, clearly without thinking about the meaning of the damn words, you knew you wouldn’t even be considering telling him at all. But where there was doubt…

“Why did you never mention what happened at the graduation party?”

You heard him stop breathing. There was no reason to look at him to see it when you could practically hear the hitch in his chest and the lack of air. When you did look at him his cheeks had paled and his mouth was opening and shutting, shoulders stuck in a shrug as though you’d genuinely caught him off-guard.

You could ask him that question without it meaning anything – it could just as easily be read as ‘huh, funny that you never mentioned it before’ than as ‘you kind of denied me the truth of why we’re so weird because everything that’s ever happened between us since that night has been a direct result of whatever fucked-up miscommunication gig we’ve got going on here’.

“How did you find out?” He breathed, a deep crease between his brows. Now that he’d had time to recover, he looked more concerned – angry, even – than sheepish.

You shrugged, “Those photos I got for Taylor? We’re in the background of ‘em.”

He nodded slowly, mouth pressed in a straight line. This time it was him that couldn’t look at you, probably just to gather his thoughts. You could tell his mind was racing, eyes zipping back and forth against the grain of the table.

You could feel your heart banging in your chest, the speed of it almost stinging. The anticipation was debilitating, and it took everything in you not to spit out question after question, because he was taking ages to say something and it was driving you crazy. Your fingers were tapping against your mug, a sharp exhale blowing the vapour around.

It was maybe that that had him looking up, head tilted backwards slightly, a thumb teasing at his lip. It was probably the first time you’d seen him lost for words.

“You really don’t remember it?” He muttered, brown eyes wide and clear, shiny in the last rays of sun poking through the back windows.

You shook your head, “I told you I didn’t remember.”

“I thought you were…I thought that was your way of letting me down gently.”

You huffed a disbelieving laugh, staring at him, half-expecting him to take those words back and say he was kidding, but he never did. He just continued to look at you, that damn crease between his brows, eyes glassy and playing with his bottom lip like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was still wearing his coat.

He never spoke.

“Why would I reject you?”

His hand fell from his mouth, landing with a soft thud on the table as he smiled, in such a self-deprecating fashion that you couldn’t help recoiling from him.

“Why wouldn’t you? I was moving to Pittsburgh, you were going to LA. We would have barely seen each other, and you deserved better than that. You still do. I mean, you know how much of a mess we were that year anyway, right?” He rambled, brows knitted together and mouth hung open. His elbows were resting on the edge of the table, hands palms-up towards the ceiling. He’d asked it like it was a rhetorical question but he was looking at you so intently you had to swallow your mouthful of tea and start talking.

Your mind had been running away with you, spitting counter-arguments for nearly everything he said, but it seemed to keep wanting to come back to the fact that he so clearly just assumed you’d reject him.

“Did it not occur to you that maybe we were such a mess because of what happened?”

“I thought you didn't remember?”

“I didn’t, but it didn’t take a genius to know you weren’t bothered about keeping in contact with me. I wrote you emails and I got one-word answers – maybe even a full sentence if I was lucky; I called but you either didn’t answer or you cut it short because you had to go to practice. You never called back. On my birthday, the first one away from my family, you never called. I didn’t get anything from you when I got a card from your parents without your name signed because they’d just assumed you’d have written one yourself. For about nine months, the most I heard or saw of you was through the TV.” You inhaled sharply, a sudden burning sensation behind your eyes. That first year was honestly pretty awful for you when it came to Sid. What you’d told him on his decking a few days ago had been true, every single word of it. You’d agonised over every single possible thing that could have happened to change it, and for some reason the realisation of why he’d done what he’d done hit you rather emotionally, “You did all of that because you didn’t believe me when I said I never remembered what happened, didn’t you?”

His hands fell to the table, his expression softening into one of sheer guilt, “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, “I really…I didn’t know, I thought it was what you wanted.”

You huffed a bitter laugh, suddenly cold, and right as though it had been scripted, rain began to splatter against the window panes, the sky now an overcast, stormy grey, “When have I ever pretended I wanted something if I really wanted the opposite?”

He swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down, “Never.”

You nodded, satisfied with his answer, and took a rather angry sip of tea, ignoring the uncomfortable burn. There was still so much you wanted to know, so many questions you wanted answers to, but at that moment: looking through the window of the back door to see nothing but dark skies and heavy sheets of rain battering your house, there was only one thing that you could really think of.

“While we’re here,” you started, voice lowering almost as though you were anticipating hearing something you weren’t going to like, “Can we talk about your first Cup win?”

Your fingers were back to tapping anxiously against the porcelain of your mug, and the heavy silence broken only by the rustle of his rain jacket was enough of an answer to let you know how this was going to go.

He inhaled, and you risked a glance at him across the table. His eyes were open, but barely, and it looked as though this conversation, or the last few minutes at least, had exhausted him. He suddenly had bags under his eyes, and his eyelids were heavy. He wasn’t smiling but he nodded anyway, face pale and hands beginning to tremble slightly.

Sid wasn’t one to ever really get emotional about anything. You’d only seen him cry a few times in person, but nearly every single one of those occasions was for something good: a Cup win, a house-warming party in the pantry after he’d moved into his new-build, saying goodbye to his parents at the airport.

This was entirely different, though. It wouldn’t entirely shock you if he walked back out of your door with a few grey hairs.

“Do you want something to drink or eat?” You eyed his pale cheeks and trembling hands wearily.

He seemed to think about it for a few seconds, before inhaling and casting a quick glance at your cupboards, “Yeah, I’ll get it though, you’re sick.” And then, almost as if something else had occurred to him when he went to push himself up off the chair, he turned back briefly, “You’d tell me when you want me to leave, right?”

The barest of smiles appeared on your face, and you nodded, “Yeah.”

“Good.”

You watched him manoeuvre through your kitchen, flicking the kettle on and reaching to take a mug out from one of your cupboards, as well as taking a tea bag out of the little box you kept them in and shaking the dust out of it, the bag landing in the mug with a soft plop. He turned back when the kettle was still boiling, hands crossed over his chest and standing against the countertop right in front of you.

There was something on his mind, you could tell. There was a high probability that it was something relating to this Cup Incident, but there was something almost impatient about the way he kept shooting an angry glance at the kettle, as though it wasn’t boiling fast enough for his liking, that had you perhaps thinking there was something else playing on his mind.

“What?” You asked, swallowed anxiously.

His head snapped in your direction, eyes wide with alarm and his mouth opened and closed a few times, thoroughly confused, “I didn’t say anything.”

“I know, but you want to.”

He closed his mouth just as the kettle clicked, and there was a brief moment where he turned his back to pour the water into his cup, but before you could even say ‘hockey’ he’d spun on his heel to face you again, “I just…We’re gonna be okay after this, right? I don’t want you to not be in my life, I don’t want to not be in your life.” He sighed, “I don’t want this to break us.”

Us.

It echoed in your mind, and despite agreeing with almost everything he said, all you could offer by way of reassurance was a sad shrug, “I don’t want that either.”

He nodded, before finishing off his tea and grabbing a protein bar from one of your drawers and sitting back down at the table, shedding his coat and laying it neatly over the back of the chair.

Neither of you said anything for a good minute. It might have been because Sid was munching on that protein bar, but you really wanted to put the matter off for as long as possible just in case what he said did become true. Prolonging a possible heartbreak – an entire era, person and a piece of your identity – from ever occurring, even if it was only hindered a few more minutes.

It seemed, though, he took the liberty of deciding exactly when to start talking.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “this is about the second kiss, isn’t it? My Cup day.” His tone was firm, but there was a hint of sombreness hidden somewhere.

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking down at your mug. Your knees were still tucked to your chin, and technically Sid was sitting to your left, you still choosing to sit on the chair sideways and face the window instead. You were spending an awful lot of time staring at him though.

You spun, feet hitting the floor and mug clinking on the surface of the table.

“I’m gonna ask a few questions and I just want you to answer honestly, okay?” You asked, inhaling a deep breath and choosing to ignore the thundering heart rate.

He nodded, leaning forwards in his chair in anticipation.

“We were both pretty drunk, yeah?”

“Correct.”

“Nobody saw, correct?”

“Correct.” He was starting to smile.

“I leant in first,” you started, voice shakier than you’d intended, and despite moving so you could see him without giving yourself a neck cramp, you found it almost impossible to be able to look at him. You’d kept some of this hidden from yourself, locked away in a bottle somewhere in the floorboards of your mind – completely inaccessible, even to yourself. To bare them aloud for the very person who shared the secret was nothing short of absolutely terrifying, “but then I stopped, right?”

You couldn’t tell if he was hesitating or if he was struggling to remember the event that had been burned in your mind for so many years, yet you still couldn’t look at him. Not even when his fingers slowly inched into your line of sight, seeking to touch your own hand still wrapped around your mug.

You didn’t move. It might dissuade him from touching you – you hoped it would because you weren’t entirely sure if you’d be able to admit all of this to him if he did.

“Yeah.” His voice was low, and his fingers dropped on top of the table, tapping silently.

“Then you…made the move.” You struggled not to cringe at your wording of it, eyes screwing shut before peeking open again, just in time to hear him answer. You hadn’t asked it as a question, but he took the hint anyway.

“I did.”

You paused, thinking. There weren’t many times you’d had to ask for unadulterated honesty when it came to Sid: most of the time he gave it to you anyway, but when it came to this kind of topic – you, it seemed, especially in the more romantic sense than simply lifelong friendship – he always kept his cards to his chest, never really revealed anything too damning.

But you’d asked for his honesty, and the least you could do was reciprocate that. It wouldn’t hurt to also milk it a little.

“I wanted to kiss you.” Want to kiss him, “Did you want to kiss me?” Your voice was higher than you’d like it to be, still a little hesitant and unsure. It somehow all felt unnatural, like scaling a foreign terrain for the first time. You couldn’t quite find your feed, where you could or couldn’t stand that would be safe and efficient.

You risked a quick glance at him. And oddly found you couldn’t quite look away. He still had that one hand almost outstretched towards you on the table, but his other was wrapped safely around his mug, still billowing vapour. His cheeks had flushed since he’d had something to eat, but it was his eyes that you couldn’t peel yourself away from.

He was looking at you, right at you, with something you’d never seen before. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it was soft without being too gentle, firm without being angry or aggressive. The corners of his mouth were downturned in a sort of sad, melancholic smile, too, and you’d never seen him look at anything else like that – anyone else – apart from when he’d be getting ready to serve a big milestone on the ice.

You’d seen it when he’d put on a gameday suit for his 500th game, you’d seen it when he’d clocked the family in the box at his 1000th game. It was appreciation, gratitude. There was a third answer lurking in the back of your mind, but you refused to acknowledge it for the sake of not getting ahead of yourself.

One question at a time, one answer at a time, only look at the facts.

“Yeah.” The answer flew out of his mouth barely even half a second after you’d looked at him, and he broke into a cheeky grin, quickly ducking his head to his chest to calm himself.

He inhaled, eyes closing briefly before turning back to you with a straight face, and this time it was you breathing an amused laugh.

“Yeah, I wanted to kiss you.” He repeated, nodding for you to continue.

There was one question left. The reminder of it was enough to melt any previous traces of a smile off your face, and instead your mouth twisted at the corner, pulse humming in your head with dread.

“Why did you blow me off the next day when I said we needed to talk?”

His eyes focused on something behind you, and his mouth flattened in a line, self-deprecating and devoid of any true emotion, “I saw it going two ways: you were gonna reject me, or we were gonna do something about it. The way I saw it, I thought you’d already rejected me way back when – I know now that’s not the case – so I wasn’t really scared of that. The thought of it stung but…”

You frowned, “You were scared of me not rejecting you?”

He nodded, “I could never have asked you to sacrifice your entire life just to make me happy. You had a career, a house you’d just bought, friends, you were close to your family. I wasn’t gonna make you choose between all of that and – and just me, was I?”

Your face seemed to crumple sympathetically before you could even control anything. Everything he’d just admitted was nothing short of a testament to his character and who he was, no matter how…you wanted to say he was selfish for choosing for you, and a small part of you believed that, but he was also right. You had everything he’d just listed, and it would have been upsetting to move away if things progressed further and ‘got serious’, but it wasn’t like you would have been completely isolated, either.

He spends a good portion of his time in Pittsburgh, that’s true, but he spends his entire off-season at home in Cole Harbour. An entire four to five months, almost half a year.

You shook your head, hands unclasping from your mug to rest at your temples, “Okay…I kind of get where you’re coming from, but did it ever occur to you how much you had to sacrifice to get to where you are?”

He blinked.

“You’ve earned the right to be selfish, especially when it comes to me. I mean, sure, I have a life here, I love it, but I never wanted to stay here. That was never my plan. I wanted to play hockey as a career, I wanted to travel and experience things, but that wasn’t what happened. I’m constantly missing a life I never even got to taste and I guess…I guess I’m kind of miserable because of it? I’m grateful for what I’ve got, but it won’t ever equate to what I wanted for myself. I love hockey, I love this camp, but I love seeing you just as much, I always have. It meant something to me.” You hesitated, “You mean something to me.”

You searched his face for a reaction, and it might have taken a few seconds for what you were saying to sink in, because his eyes suddenly went glassy and his jaw clenched. He couldn’t look at you for a while, and he kept sniffing.

You hoped more than anything he wasn’t actively catching your cold whilst you waited for him to say something.

And then: “I mean, for what it’s worth, you mean everything to me–”

“It’s not a competition.”

***

You were lost.

Or, at least, from Sid’s perspective you were: he was standing near the boards on the ice, keeping a close eye on the kids playing the shooting drill he’d set up for them, and he truly was watching them…he just couldn’t exactly help it when his eyes would wander curiously and scour the rest of the ice, practically desperate to drink you in. Wherever you were. He couldn’t see you, and it was getting to that point in the day where he wasn’t sure if that meant you’d left the ice to supervise the locker rooms and talk to parents or if he just wasn’t looking properly (again: he had to watch a bunch of kids with knives screwed to their feet).

See, it had been three days since you’d both sat in your kitchen and mulled things over, uprooting what you both thought to have happened when you were younger and twisting everything into a more truthful, honest version (he admittedly spent the rest of the day in bed; he was so emotionally drained he actually forgot to feed Sam until she started barking relentlessly at him) of events.

Did he know where you stood with each other now? Not entirely, but he knew you were both thinking about it. That was a shock and a half to have uncovered on a Wednesday evening.

Did he know what he planned to do within the next few weeks? Kind of.

Had you actually seen or spoken to each other since that day? Not apart from group settings: you’d taken another day off to recover from that little bug you’d caught – of which Sid had managed to avoid catching – and the past two days including this one were full of nothing but red cheeks and a peculiar affinity to wrestle a smile off both your faces if you even so much as looked at each other.

It was a pretty big switch-around from last week, but he welcomed it with…well, he’d honestly never been happier or more excited to be on the edge of starting something with you. He’d thought about it often before, mostly as a weapon to torture himself with when he was already upset over something, remind him of another failure – only that one had been personal and about his life, not anything to do with hockey. It always used to sting more.

He sighed, “Hey, Ryan, try gripping the stick a bit lower, you’ll get more control on your shot next time, ‘kay? Yeah, just like that! Poppy stop poking people in the face with the stick please, I know you find it funny when it gets stuck but it could poke someone’s eye out.” The culprit in question sadly dropped her stick to the ice, and Sid didn’t even have to be near her to know her bottom lip was sticking out in a pout “Thank you.”

It was as Evie pushed forward on her skates with a puck at her feet that something whacked Sid softly on the bum with enough power to send him trailing forwards slightly, but he didn’t take his eyes off the girl in front of him, who sent a powerful slap shot towards the goalie, and the puck couldn’t even be seen until a ding! echoed in the back of the net. Sid huffed a laugh, “Wow, Evie, that was incredible! Keep it up.”

She flashed him an awkward thumbs up, the gloves interfering with the action, and Sid mirrored it before finally turning his attention to a rather beloved blonde. Nate’s brows were halfway up his forehead, mouth contorted like he’d also just breathed a quiet ‘woah’ under his breath, and when he registered Sid was even looking at him, his face melted into one that had become rather synonymous with another person in his life. Nate always smirked when he was about to bring you up to Sid. There were a few occasions where he’d read the room and approached the topic with a bit more consideration, but it appeared this time was no different to usual.

“Kind of reminds me of a certain someone when they were that age, huh?”

Sid clenched his jaw, trying not to give away just how true that statement really was, before muttering a quick, “You’re too young to have known what she was like at that age.”

Nate made a sound that came from the back of his throat, a short huff of laughter passing his lips, “Dude, you’re so easy to read.”

Sid shook his head, “Next!” Another kid skated forward, and both professionals watched as the goalie caught the puck safely in their glove before chucking it across the ice in their general direction.

“Hey, if you want to skate around for a bit, I can watch this drill.” Nate said, intercepting the puck and adding it to the small pile that had slowly been accumulating next to the boards.

Sid frowned, a crease forming between his brows, “Why?” He drawled, rather suspicious of the sudden generosity.

He had a feeling he knew what it was about, but he wasn’t going to speak ahead of himself and make matters worse – Nate already had enough teasing material when it came to his silent pining.

“It’s pretty obvious you’re distracted and it’s been killing me and Taylor watching you. She’s over there,” Nate lifted his stick, pointing to the opposite side of the rink, where Sid could only just now make out the back of your head. He had no idea what had caught your attention so much as to have your back facing the ice– “There’s a little kid on the other side of the glass with a mini-stick. She’s been pulling faces for the past five minutes, and I just thought I’d warn you before you…y’know–”

“Nate, what the eff?” Sid hissed, watching wearily for any kids overhearing.

“I’m just kidding. Kind of.” He grinned, “Go say what you need to say and then come back.”

Sid rolled his eyes, but still patted Nate gently as he skated by, “Thanks.”

Nate just shook his head, waving him off, and Sid took that as his signal to skate away, ignoring the undoubtedly humorous glance Taylor was giving him. It was bad enough that they’d noticed what he was doing at all, let alone to have it pointed out right to his face.

He pushed loose pucks out of the way, skating right around several different drills before crashing into the boards right next to you, his face pressed against the glass to see…three different dribbling toddlers staring up at you both. One had an armful of teddies, the other was wearing a Pens PJ set and the final one was holding a mini stick, the ball left forgotten behind them.

You didn’t even need to turn your head from where you’d leant it against the glass to know who it was that had rather abruptly pulled up beside you. Not only was the side of his face in your peripheral vision enough, but the faces of the parents sitting in the seats were enough to go by. Everyone seemed to sit straighter, smiles a little bit wider at the sight of their local boy interacting with a small herd of toddlers who obviously had no idea who he was.

Except…the kid with the mini stick dropped his fingers from his mouth, stick lazily pointing in Sid’s direction, and even through the glass you could make out the vague words of "Siddie Cosby!” and the excited smile on his face.

Sid waved, spinning the cap on his head the other way around so he could also press his forehead to the glass, and you laughed softly, breath fogging up the panes for a brief moment. The sound had him tilting his head slightly so he could look at you.

He wasn’t sure if he was smiling before he’d turned – he had to have been, though, surely? – but he felt himself smile, if not more than he had been. It was unconscious, like a reflex made worse because you were just so infectious to him.

“Hi.” You muttered lowly, catching him out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t turn your face away from those kids, still pulling funny faces no matter how demanding of your attention he was. You could look at him all you liked later, but for these kids, their moment was this moment.

At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. Really, you just felt a little too shy looking at him with all those people watching from the stands.

“Hi.” He grinned, also turning his attention back to the kids. The one with the hockey stick suddenly banged on the screen right in front of him, and even despite his quick reflexes, he couldn’t help jumping at the sudden noise in such close proximity.

The kid just giggled, and when Sid cast his eyes to the seats, heart racing in his chest, some of the parents were trying to hide their own laughs behind their hands.

He almost forgot he had an audience.

His tongue darted out nervously to wet his bottom lip, and he felt you look at him rather than saw you do it, “Are you coming to my birthday party tonight?”

There was a brief silence between you both, and you struggled to hold in a laugh as Sid registered what it was that he’d just said. His eyes closed and he leant his forehead against the glass, sighing hard enough to fog it up.

“Yes.” You answered, tone full of amusement.

His eyes opened and he twisted his head, still resting against the glass, “Can I pick you up at five?”

You blinked.

His party starts at seven.

It was probably the easiest yes of your entire life.

#sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby oneshot #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby fic #nhl player x reader #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey oneshot

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harlowhockeystick · 10 months ago

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LOVESTRUCK, WENT STRAIGHT TO MY HEAD ⎯ S. CROSBY

y/n just wants the best for her son, she thinks the program rule of no freshmen players on varsity is stupid. she just did what any mother would do...right?

coach!sidney crosby x teacher!single mom!reader

warnings: angst, smut (fingering, handjob, sex on a table), somewhat of an inappropriate relationship, single parent content, light talk of divorce, lowkey based off of "slut!" by taylor swift

word count: 4,244

a/n: look at that....i do still know how to write

The bitterness of the coffee wasn’t doing it’s job. On her third cup and it’s not even ten in the morning, Y/N waits for the next period of students to walk through her door. Taking in one of the few moments of silence she has, she refreshes the page on the sports page on the school website, itching to see her son’s name.

Carter had tryouts with the hockey team last week, he had been talking about it since the beginning of the month. He was training every day to make varsity; in leagues ever since he was ten years old every single coach and spectator could not brag enough on how much talent he had. Y/N was pressured to send him across the country, even out of the country, to go to the top hockey camps but as a single mother she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bear to send her baby off to some strangers for a few months, and she couldn't afford to move away from family either.

But her heart dropped as she refreshed the page, pulled up this season's roster, and saw her son’s name and number on the junior varsity roster instead of varsity. She didn’t understand it, she was told by the coaches herself that he was the best kid on the ice that day. Why didn’t he make varsity?

Her questions were interrupted by students flooding into the classroom for the start of the next period. She pulled herself out of her thoughts to then teach this class period. Reluctantly though.

The final bell rang and that meant she was done for the day. Saying goodbye to her students Y/N started to gather papers and put them in the “to grade” folder to take home with her before tidying up some areas of the room. She anticipated her son’s arrival. Ever since moving up to high school he always stopped by her room at the end of the day to talk about school and help her carry things to her car.

“I didn’t make it.” Carter said as a greeting when he walked in the empty room. His face was defeated, his tall slender frame was slumped over in sadness and his eyes welling with tears. Out of all people Y/N knew and saw how hard he worked to make varsity his freshman year. He skated over fifty laps a day, worked on shots in the garage until way past dusk, he also started to lift more weights.

“Oh baby, c’mere,” Y/N pulled her much taller son in for a hug. There he broke and rested into his mother's arms like a little kid again. He softly cried before pulling away.

“I don’t get it mom, they told me i’d make it for sure, why would he tell me-” “Don’t worry about it son, I will talk to the coach first thing in the morning. I promise. But for now you have to play the cards you were dealt,” Y/N consoled her son in the way moms know how. Gathering her bags she gave the heaviest one to Carter to help carry out the building. They continued chatting on the way to her car, talking about school and homework he had for the week. Carter was a special kid, he deeply cared about his grade and education. He remembers promising his mom when he was younger that if he ever got to play hockey in college that he would get his degree and not go to the draft early.

Carter was a momma’s boy through and through. His dad lived an hour away so he spent the weekends there twice a month, but he’s at his mom’s house the rest of the time. Carter is also protective of his mom too. He never told her this, but he’s beat in a couple boys’ faces because they made some lewd comments about her. He’s respectful of her, more than any other man on earth ever has been. Y/N is very proud of how she’s raised her son.

“Okay son, go to practice. Have a positive attitude, don’t do anything stupid okay? I know you’re frustrated but just go into practice and do you, maybe they got you mixed up with someone else. But-” she saw his facial expressions change and get tense, she knew that he was still angry inside, “hey, don’t get mad at them. Wait until I talk and then you and I will figure something out.”

They walked in opposite directions, Carter to the athletic building and Y/N back to the school for one more item in her classroom. Hustling as best she can so she can get home, she runs into the person she didn’t want to speak to until in the morning. Coach Crosby.

She felt her body coil and tense up in anger at just the sight. She was supposed to wait until morning, but her tongue got the best of her.

“Coach! Hey, can I ask you a quick question?” she pulls him to the side, into an empty classroom where the teacher had left for the day.

“What’s up?” Sidney asked, sitting down on one of the wooden desks. He was wearing black joggers, a tight pullover with a school cap on. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how the material of his clothing clung to his toned body. He had been out of the professional league for at least two years, but he still kept up the physical shape of his body, and it was obvious by the way his pants were stretching at the seams on his thighs.

“I really don’t want to be that parent, but can you tell me why Carter didn’t make varsity?” Sidney cocks his head to the side. He’s only been on sight three months and he’s already dealing with this.

“Well, it’s my understanding that freshmen must be on the JV team, no matter how good they are. That rule was put in place before I got here.” He explained while crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles making his pullover look incredibly small on his frame. “He’s a good kid though, he’ll make great improvements this year and I'll look forward to having him on varsity next year.” Sidney said, trying to end the conversation and smooth things over.

“But…you’re the new coach. This is your program now, not someone else’s.” Y/N couldn’t really understand what he was getting at. Did he not see the potential in her son that everyone seemed to say? Did he not see the great player, the great athlete that Carter was? Maybe it was just her being a mother, and so obviously her child is the best compared to other kids. But she swore she didn’t want to be like those parents. She remembers being a kid in youth sports herself and hated parents who thought their kid should be player of the week every week. In her mind, she needed to earn player of the week because of her work ethic, not because her parents were board members.

“Right but I'm not trying to ruffle any feathers my first year. This is barely my program, I need to establish relationships before I change things here,” Y/N takes a step closer to Sidney, her hands folded in front of her.

“But you’re Sidney Crosby, who can say no to you?” God she feels horrible for doing this, she feels like…like some junior league mom whose husband has nothing between his ears. But she thinks, if she can just rile him up for a minute, startle him, then he’ll change his mind and put Carter on varsity. That’s her end goal, get her son feeling better. If that means pretending to be a horny college student again, so be it. “I mean really, they had to give you this job cause they trust you. So obviously you can do what you want, like putting my son on your varsity team.”

He sighs, looking down at his shoes. He knows what she’s doing…and he can’t believe it’s sort of working. He hasn’t had a woman flirt with him in heaven knows how long. He doesn’t even know how to respond to such a thing anymore. His life for the past almost twenty years has been nothing but hockey. Sidney’s family has been asking him for a long time when he is going to settle down with someone, but nobody ever scratched that itch quite like hockey did. But now? That he’s got a woman in front of him, a gorgeous one at that, who’s buttering him up? Maybe he’ll give in…just to see what it feels like.

“Your son is a hell of a player, Y/N. He really could go far,” His words got heavier as she got closer, he could smell her perfume, he could feel her breath, he could see her chest move up and down with every huff she took- “so put him on your team, Coach.” she put her hand on his chest softly and she sighed feeling his stern muscles. “C’mon, what’s it gonna take? Dinner and a show?”

His eyes, dark and blown, looked into hers and if he remembers what the term eye fucking means then that’s exactly what they were doing. His breaths became short but heavy as she left a heavy hand on his chest. She rubbed her thumb over his cheek, trying her best to work her charm that she used to have. She hopes she’s still got it.

He thinks, thinks, and thinks. This is a bad decision.

“My place, six thirty tomorrow evening. Give me your best sales pitch, and we’ll see about the show.”

Sidney stands up and for a brief second his nose bumps hers, an innocent touch but it makes him take a deep breath in to calm himself down. He exits the empty class room and takes long strides to get to practice, glancing at his watch he’s already a few minutes behind.

She’s eternally grateful that Carter is with his dad this weekend. How could she explain to him that she’s not really going on a date…but she’s going to his coach's house with plans to seduce him..but again it’s not a date. Of course, she’d have to leave out the seducing part. She put on her best dress that she had, it was pretty simple but it hugged her figure nicely. She made sure to spritz some extra perfume on as well.

The drive to Sidney’s house is silent, it’s her having fake conversations in her head about what to say or what not to say. Debating on if her seduction speech was still on date or if it’s too cheesy now. She suddenly feels like she lives in the lowest tax bracket possible when entering his neighborhood; she's never seen so many fake lawns before. She’s actually never been on this side of town much, except to look at christmas lights when Carter was younger. Now that he’s older he doesn’t care for that stuff anymore.

“Nice place you’ve got,” she said walking into his entry way. To her surprise Sidney dressed up a little bit, wearing a button up with a nice pair of slacks, the top two buttons undone for visual purposes of course. He takes her coat and her purse, hanging it up by the door. “What’s on the menu?”

“Well, I figured I'd go simple with just spaghetti and toast, with dessert to follow if that’s okay.” Sidney went into his pantry and pulled out a bottle of red wine. “This okay?” He holds the bottle in the air and she nods her head, sitting at his kitchen bar watching him pour a glass. She takes a glance at the label and she’s taken back. On her teacher salary she definitely can’t afford that brand.

Maybe she’s in over her head here- she didn’t think about any of this stuff. Suddenly she’s this woman who doesn’t have much to her name, sitting in a millionaire’s kitchen drinking wine that costs well over two hundred dollars- but damn if it doesn’t taste good.

They make small talk before heading into the dining room where he sets dinner onto the table for her, such a gentleman. Continuing the semi dull conversation she thanks him for making a meal for her, joking that she’s never had a man make dinner for her. Only half true, her dad growing up would make dinners for her family. But when she married Carter’s dad, she was the chef in the family. Not that she was complaining, it was just odd for her to be on the reverse side for the first time in a while.

“I am sorry about that idiotic rule, Y/N. Carter can easily be a varsity player.” Sidney broke the minute silence after finishing off his second glass of wine that night. She huffs, finishing her plate and scooting it away from her on the table. Was she really about to do this?

“Is there anything I can do, sidney? C’mon my boy’s in shambles, he’s thinking that he’s not as good as everyone makes him out to be,” Y/N reaches her hand out to rest on his softly. “Is there anything I can do?”

Y/N hoped he knew what she was implying and that she didn’t have to say it out loud.

And he did.

He understood every word she said and the words that were left unsaid. He knew what she was implying and he knew what she was getting at. But Sidney hated that he was willing to do what she wanted. Y/N was leaning forward on the table, getting close enough to Sidney where he could smell her perfume and her lotion mixed together, he could see a couple small freckles up close as he couldn’t see them from a bit further away.

There were no words exchanged between them, his eyes kept drifting from her tinted lips to her lustful eyes, back and forth a couple times before resting his hand on her cheek and pressing his lips against hers gently. Immediately he felt a rush of arousal- it’s just a kiss, really? He silently asked himself. He hadn’t gotten this aroused in a while, a long while.

Both parties leaned into the kiss, wanting and aching for more. They tasted wine on each other and felt each other’s temperature begin to rise. Sidney got out of his chair, lips still connected to hers, and got closer. She stood up, one hand cupping his chin and the other resting on his chest, and she leaned against the dining table. She hadn’t made out with someone in years, she hopes she’s doing it right.

She gets pushed onto the table just by the force of his body so now she’s sitting on the wooden table, Sidney standing in between her legs with both of his hands cupping her face. He doesn’t care if he seems desperate or if he seems needy, or if this is totally wrong and against almost all of the words he signed in his contract, he can’t seem to get enough of her. Sidney feels her play with the buttons of his shirt and how she begins to pull the shirt up and out of his dress pants. It was easy since he wasn’t wearing a belt.

He didn’t even know that she completely unbuttoned his shirt until he felt her hands roam all over his naked chest, her hands slowly raking up and down his toned muscles. He takes a breath and scans her body. Her skin is hot to the touch, her eyes are completely blown now and her lips are parted. “How do I get this off you?” he asked, taking a fist of the hem of her dress.

“There's a tie in the back,” she huffed out, not able to take her hands off his body. Plus, she wants him to take it off of her.

“You tied this yourself?” he asked in shock, surprised at how she tied such a perfect bow on her back with such thin strings.

“I’ve been tying, zipping, buttoning my dresses myself for the past twelve years now, safe to say I got pretty good at it.” God- has she been alone for the past twelve years? Nobody to love on, kiss on, touch on this wonderful body of hers? Sidney takes in a sharp breath when he pulls the dress off of her and he gives her body a quick scan over. Wearing a strapless bra that she’s almost spilling out of, she has on silk leopard print panties that he can’t help but notice a significant damp spot on.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, hands roaming over her soft skin. “Don’t make fun of me, it’s been a long time since I've hooked up with someone.” because that’s just what this is, a hookup. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I haven’t since I got divorced, so it's the same here.” she hooks her leg around his pulling him closer. He pressed his lips against hers again this time most softly. His hand goes down to play with the hem of her panties, “you sure about this?”

“Very sure, don’t mess with a pissed off mama sidney.” she pulls him down with her as she lays down on the table. He kisses down her body, she arches her back and lets him take her bra off. Tossing it onto the floor Sidney wraps his lips around one of her hardened nipples. She lets out a heavenly sounding moan at the action.

It’s been so long she could cum just from Sidney doing this for a couple minutes longer. One hand slips down over her clothed cunt, rubbing her sensitive and wet area. She arches her body into his, already she’s lost in a great euphoric high that she can’t even mumble words. All that’s coming out is moans and gasps.

He removes his mouth and Sidney stands up, she watches up on her elbows as he takes his pants off and removes his boxers. She bites her lip at the size - the sight - of his hardened dick in his hand. She reaches out for it herself, “you’ll give me what I want, and I promise you won’t regret it.” he thought for a moment too long, she began to doubt herself but he spoke up, “deal.”

She licks her hand before taking a grip on his cock. Slowly she starts stroking up and down, keeping harsh eye contact with sidney. She gives him a nice squeeze and a twist of her hand which makes him throw his head back in pleasure. He can only do so much with his hand, it’s nice to have someone else for a change. Y/N scoots closer to him on the table, with one of his hands he works his hand over one of her breasts softly massaging it. She leans into his touch and continues to work her hands over his hard cock.

He moves his hand from her breast down and slips it into her soaked panties. At first his fingers were a little cold but they quickly warmed up after being immersed in her sex. He circles around her clit a couple times, getting familiar with the female body again. He explores for a minute or two, his middle finger teasing her hole. The more he teases her the harder her grip gets on his cock. He pulls his hand out of her panties, they’ve never broken eye contact this whole time and he sucks everything off of his hand. God that was hot.

Sidney removes her hand from his cock fearing if she kept going he would cum all over her hand and that wasn’t what he wanted to do. He’s panting heavy now, his body forming sweat on his forehead. He pushes her down onto the table with a palm on her chest lining his cock up with her entrance, “wait do I need any-”

She chuckles, “that ship sailed a while ago, just fuck me like you mean it coach.”

With her permission she slides in and she lets out a long, loud, moan as he does it. He wants to hear that on repeat for the rest of his life, he swears. Sidney puts both hands on her hips, keeping her body steady as he rocks in and out of her, his hips meeting her every time.

Sidney allows to feel himself in her warm, wet walls. He throws his head back in pleasure and she shuts her eyes tight. Her hands come up to her breasts to add to the pleasure, fingers pinching both of her nipples as she feels his huge cock pump in and out of her small hole. He feels like he’s three feet deep inside of her, he feels lost in how good she feels. His head grows foggy each time he squeezes her.

Sidney hits the spongy spot in her tight cunt that made her gasp out in pleasure, she sang his name like a chant over and over which made him fuck her harder and harder. She warned him about her orgasm and he did the same, begging her to cum with him. A few more pumps of his cock he spilled his heavy load inside of her and she moaned loudly like a queen when he did. He pulled his cock out of her, watching his load spill out with it.

Maybe it was the post orgasm haze she was in, maybe it was the lovestruck feeling she had the minute they began making out, but minutes later she’s standing between him and the cold shower wall. His forehead pressed against hers. His fingers knuckle deep in her cunt and a hand wrapped around her throat as hot water rained down on either of them, her cunt squeezing his thick fingers while she couldn’t even say anything but his name. That’s exactly what he wanted.

The hot shower water kept her eyes shut but she knew that he was gazing at her. He was in awe of her facial expressions, how she bit her lip through a smile with every jerk he made with his hand, when she furrowed her eyebrows when she was on the edge of cumming, and how she cocked her head to the side while he kissed around her neck silently asking for more.

He took his hand away from her pussy, licking the honey off his fingers. He stayed that close to her though knowing her legs were probably jello and she wasn’t able to stand for at least a minute or two.

She took a deep breath, “got what you wanted?” she asked in a joking tone, moving her hand up and down his chest in the hot steamy shower. He chuckled, his hands never leaving her body. He palmed her breasts, he seemed to have a thing for those she contemplated, heavy lustful eyes staring into hers.

“How many more you got in you?” he asked, spreading her legs with his thigh.

“I can give you as much as you want.” Y/N answered, her hands slowly roaming down lower and lower on his chest and stomach.

“Then no, I didn’t get what I want yet.”

She woke up in Sidney’s bed the next morning with messy hair and sore muscles. Looking over on the nightstand the clock read 8:02 AM. She was glad that it was a Saturday and she was able to sleep in. She saw that Sidney was still asleep, he laid on his stomach with his head facing the other way. Looking over his back, studying the freckles, the faded scars. Y/N wants to stay in this moment for as long as she can.

She hates to admit but she really fell for Sidney. Not because of how skilled he was in bed, or because he could do wicked things with his hands, but she shared a few heartfelt conversations with him before tryouts even began.

He cared for the kids at school, the kids he taught and the kids he coached. He had a heart for the coming generation. He wanted them to have someone in their corner, and some kids don’t have that at home and he wants to be that. She got lovestruck in the past few months, sure she never planned on sleeping with him, she felt young again with how big of a crush she had. It went straight to her head, it all moved so fast.

God if her mother were still here she could just hear the word “slut!” come out of her mouth if her mom found out what happened. But she wouldn’t care. She enjoyed it, and she was sure Sidney enjoyed it too.

But still, she can’t help but think to herself what did I just do?

Sidney turns his head and sees that she’s also awake. Raising up he sees the time, 8:10. He doesn’t even care that he missed his morning workout session an hour late. He puts his arm around her and pulls her closer to him, tucking his head in her neck. With dry lips Sidney placed a tender lingering kiss on her hot skin.

It might be worth it for once, she thinks.

feedback | masterlist | au tag

tagging mutuals to boost, let me know if you don’t want to be tagged! @fallinallincurls @nylwnder @bitchinbarzal @ilyasorokinn @leafsbabe @twinklelilstarkey @raysofcrosby @lcandothisallday

#j's writing #sidney crosby #coach!sidney #sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl writing #nhl smut #sidney crosby smut #nhl x you #smut #drabble #blurb

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homestylehughes · 5 months ago

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husband sidney headcanons

pairing(s): sidney crosby x fem!reader

summary: sweet and sexy headcanons of sidney!

warning(s): sfw and nsfw!

wc: 520

an: hi loves!!! first time writing for the dilf of hockey himself sidney crosby. idk how it's taken me this long to write about him, but i'm not complaining!!! i saw a picture of him this morning and it makes me feral so i wrote about him!!! lmk if you guys want anymore sidney fics in the future, i'd be morreeeeeee than happy to write about him!!! i'm getting back into the groove of writing again, and after not writing for a week, made me realize how much i missed itttttt. like and reblog if you like! much love as always!!

happy reading <3

sfw:

husband!sidney: Sidney is the type of husband to wake you up with kisses all over your body, causing you to giggle as you wake up. Wrapping you up on the tightest hug ever, sinking into his warm body in the morning is your favorite way to wake up.

husband!sidney: Sidney would be the type of person who would pick you up from the airport, holding a funny sign in his hands waiting for your arrival. The signs never fail to bring you to tears of laughter from how funny they were, it's the best thing to come home too.

husband!sidney: You always try to stay up for Sidney when he gets back from long road trips, posting up on the couch with a book in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other. You manage to stay awake for a while, before you feel your eyes start to close as your eyes dance across the pages of your book, falling asleep before you even know it. Sideny walks into your shared house, he softly smiles as he sees the living room dimly lit, seeing you sleepy peacefully on the couch he can't help but smile at you with love in his eyes.

husband!sidney: Sidney is so good with children, seeing how he acts around your nieces and nephews and other children at hockey camps makes your baby fever increase by the second.

husband!sidney: Sidney loves your baked goods, he's convinced that everything you make is heaven sent from God, but your baked goods? Those are his favorites. Anything from cupcakes, cookies, everything and anything. He gives a request of things he wants you to make for him, at least once a week, even baking things for the team and fundraising events.

husband!sidney: Sidney loves surprising you with a new bouquet of flowers each week, always doing small things to remind you how much he loves you.

nsfw:

husband!sidney: Sidney loves to watch you fall apart from beneath him, the way your head drops back, how your mouth falls open as you gasp for air. The pants and moans are enough to make him come again.

husband!sidney: Sidney has a huge breeding kink. He wants nothing more than to see you carrying his child. He loves stuffing you full of his come, holding it inside of you, just to make sure you get every drop.

husband!sidney: Your favorite part about Sidney's body is his hands, especially when they’re wrapped around your throat. The way you gasp and moan out below him telling him to tighten his grip on your neck.

husband!sidney: sidney is a big fan of car sex, he loves how easy it is to rile you up, then bend you over the back seat and fuck you until you forget your name.

husband!sidney: He loves loves loves, whenever you ride his face. The way your thick thighs wrap around his head, moaning out above him as he devourers your wet cunt, eating it like a man that hasn't had water or food in days.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #sidney crosby #pittsburgh penguins #sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby x you #sidney crosby smut

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barzzal · 5 months ago

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call me crosby → part six

summary: Young, reckless, and rash, an unplanned pregnancy causes a massive rift in your relationship with then, cup-hungry 27 year-old Sidney Crosby. As he gets caught up in his own childish and selfish ways, confused to what was once certain, he lets you struggle alone. His absence reasons a miscarriage scare that leads you to end the relationship. Years after losing you, having to live a life that’s surrounded with the families his friends have built through the years embodies his greatest regret. Now with three cups and tons of awards at his disposal, Sid is given a chance to right his wrongs and win what was once the biggest loss of his life.

pairing: sidney crosby x fem!reader gen. warnings: language and theme, co-parenting, mentions of pregnancy & false miscarriage, sexual/suggestive themes, 18+ ch. warnings: parenting, tantrums, and a tad bit of angst genre: hockey rpf, fluff, angst, kid-fic, exes to lovers length: series; 5.2k masterlist: the barn, series masterlist

note: REALLY hoping i get to finish this while on my uni break. This was supposed to be posted on father's day but ya girl was on a trip i had to make most of it yk! Also, do note that the italicized part is a quick flashback. Anyway, happy reading! <3 (gif used: mine)

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. teasers, interviews, events, and the like that are included in the series are purely made for fictional purposes and do not/should not represent any of the names involved in real life. please proceed with caution.

Two words. Terrible twos.

It was one of the things your mom has told you about raising a child of your own. It was a stage full of tantrums and frustrations; one you’ve never dealt with before. You were told that it was overwhelming, that you have to prepare yourself mentally and physically for it. However, your son, as the marvel child that he is, was so good at that age that you need not have to worry about it.

Well, not until a few years later.

“Mommy, please!” Luke wails in frustration from the living room.

He has been asking for a little more screen time watching his show instead of doing his homework. And be that as it may, he has been adamant about not getting what he wanted.

This has been going on for a couple of weeks, following Luke’s realization of not getting to play much of hockey. Frankly, as well as not seeing much of Sidney.

“Honey, you’ve been watching for almost two hours. That’s enough.” you say, massaging your temple as you walk towards where he is, trying not to lose your temper.

You and your son have always been in sync. You have not really had the chance to reprimand or give him a good scolding. Lucas is a fairly calm child right from the beginning. To say the least, dealing with his temper tantrums now is a lot harder than you’ve prepared for.

You see him sitting on the couch holding the remote tightly. His cheeks are still evidently damp from all the crying. You know he’s bound to strain his voice just by looking at him.

“Two hours is not enough!” he appeals. Just like you thought, his voice is now nearly gone from all the screaming. “Please, I want my TV!”

It is during times like this where you have to try harder as a mother. You know it will not always be rainbows with Luke. But despite your efforts to ensure that he would be able to express himself when you greatly need it, you can’t blame a child for not knowing exactly how he feels nor the reason for it. You just wish he’d be able to let you know even just a little. At least then, you could make it all better.

“Baby,” you endearingly call for him as you approach.

With a soft smile on your face, you caress his hair. Your hands then fall to his cheeks so as to wipe his tears away.

“You’ve already watched a lot of episodes today...” you carefully work your way in; gently reminding him of his acquired screen time.

Frustratingly, Luke’s voice breaks as he tries to tell you he wasn’t going to watch any more episodes of Paw Patrol and the new Lego Spiderman.

“Then what were you trying to watch?” you ask him with the same nurturing voice.

You see Luke shoot a glance over the screen that you’ve already turned off half an hour ago.

Yes, this has been going on for that long.

“Mkay, you may turn it on so you can show me.”

There comes a glint of hope in his eyes the moment he hears you. You fight the urge to chuckle, finding it quite adorable.

Luke, now standing on his feet, finds the red power button and points it towards the television. Once it’s turned on, the thumbnail of a show greets you; one that you least expected– one that you clearly were not ready for.

“So tell us guys, how can we make hockey more fun?” said the last voice you wanted to hear.

Sid and Nathan in their respective jersey’s for a commercial a few years back comes into view. You know that it was one of his brand commitments that he still does to this day. You were just not aware that Tim Horton’s apparently had this particular video uploaded for everyone to see.

As you watch the clip turn over to a handful of kids skating towards the two famed athletes, you make the mistake of taking the remote from your son to pause the short youtube clip quite hastily. You inevitably surprise him with your reaction thereby scaring him.

Upon deducing that you were upset by the show that he has chosen, Luke begins to cry even harder than before.

Alarmed, you put away the remote and reached for him. You let him fall in your arms whilst he buried his face in your chest.

“I’m sorry, baby. Mommy didn’t mean that.” you try to convince him, caressing his head. You feel disgusted with yourself because you know this is not the way you wanted this moment to unfold.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mommy.” Luke says in between his sobbing. He hugs you tighter whilst in a heaping mess.

“Hush, it’s okay.” you comfort him. “I’m sorry too.”

You let him cry himself out. It may be heartbreaking for you, but you couldn’t think of any other way to help your seemingly helpless child. The only thing you could offer him is the assurance that you will always be by his side when he needs you.

You know that the overwhelming surge of emotion he’s feeling now is quite new for him. Dealing with his outburst may be tough on your end, but you can’t even imagine how much harder it must have been for a child to be utterly clueless as to why he is crying.

Swiftly, just like you used to do when he was a baby, you sway your body whilst Luke stays in your embrace. Once Luke’s breathing begins to calm down, you lovingly caress his back; deciding to try again.

“How are you feeling, darling?”

Luke doesn’t utter a word. However, you feel him move even closer to your body as if there was any space left. You tighten your hold on him as you place a kiss atop his forehead.

“Mommy’s not mad at you, okay?”

With what you assume is the last of his sobs, Luke quietly replies, “Okay…”

He breaks away from your hold and looks you in the eye, “I’m sorry.”

You offer him a reassuring smile, “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to scare you, honey.”

You plant a wet kiss atop his nose, making him giggle.

“May I know why you wanted to watch more TV?” you ask.

When you see a hint of hesitation on his demeanor you add, “I’m not upset. I promise. Go on, you can tell me.”

“Sidney…”

“Do– Do you miss him?” you ask hesitantly, afraid to hear what his answer might be.

Your son nods, “Uh-huh.”

Of course.

Luke continues, “He said… he’s going to play with me when he comes back.”

“Where is he, Mom? Why isn’t he back?”

“I…” you struggle. You didn’t know how to tell him that this was all because of your doing. “I don’t know, honey.”

Luke looks at you with his little eyes, all too tired from crying. “Doesn’t he wanna play with me?”

You shake your head, determined not to put thoughts in his head that could be a detriment as to how he saw Sidney. Funny how you still instinctively did things for Sidney’s sake.

“Of course, he does, sweetheart. He’s just—”

Your son interrupts, “He’s just what?”

You caress his cheek as you say, “He needed to take care of some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

You hum, playing with his hair. “Stuff like what Mom also has to take care of sometimes.”

You think of an example. “Like, when I leave you with Aunt Claire for a little while, you remember?”

He looks up at you with enthusiasm in his voice when he says, “Aunt Claire always gives me M&Ms.”

You give him a warm and knowing smile. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Your son continues, “She also gives me candy when you come back.”

“Yes! See– I always come back, right?” you begin to explain. “Sidney’s gonna come back too, honey. It’s just taking a while. We need to wait a bit longer.”

Luke tilts his head, “Longer?”

“Yes, right. Can you do that? Can you wait a little more for Sidney?”

Once again, only with a discernible smile spreading on his lips, your son nods.

“Are you gonna wait for him too?”

It takes a few seconds before you are able to answer.

“Yes. I am also waiting for him.”

𖥸

Days have gone and your son stayed true to his words. He’s waiting patiently for Sidney.

In the meantime, Luke has shifted his focus on his art albeit not entirely off hockey given that most of his drawings were of hockey sticks, pucks, and the Pittsburgh Penguins logo.

You no longer mind for as long as he is, for lack of a better term, distracted. You and Sidney have remained in no contact with one another and it is highly likely to remain the same. You may have kept in touch with Cath and Anna but neither of them gave you word as to how Sidney was doing. Surely, they were thinking you did not really care for it. Did you?

You sigh, watching your son soundly asleep as he takes his afternoon nap. Days have been quite easier ever since the night you last saw Sidney. But you have to admit, seeing your son’s room now reminds you of him. You would have easily shut down the idea of having Sidney taint the corners of your home with his presence; particularly your son’s room. It would have easily aggravated you, perhaps fuel the hate you have for him even more. How come you don’t? How come what you feel instead is the void in your gut that is melancholy.

Quietly, you shut the door of your son’s room to let him rest.

You have been pondering as to how to remedy your situation with Sidney but alas, nothing came close to a practicable and civil reconciliation. You knew full well that co-parenting would be hard given the fact that it was one of the reasons why you chose to be your son’s only parent. You just fell short of realizing how it will equally be as hard on you. As much as you’d give every fiber of your being to be the best Mother you can be to your child, it kills you to acknowledge that Luke needs someone other than you, even more so that it inevitably means him needing his father.

Perhaps Sidney isn’t the only one who had a hand in everything falling apart. ‘Perhaps’ is a little far fetched but a mere inkling would suffice. You are not yet ready to acknowledge you had your share in the wrongs that make up this little broken family of yours.

You were putting away Luke’s plushies in his toy bin when you heard the doorbell ring. You place the bin on the floor before you make your way to the front door. It was unusual given that you were not really expecting anyone to drop by. The only close friends you have in the city would not be so careless in doing so for obvious reasons.

You take a quick glance on the doorbell camera and your heart immediately sinks.

Of all the people you’d expect to be waiting at the other side of the door, she would be the last one.

The moment you opened the door you were welcomed with eyes as blue as the ocean back home, hair that is as gold as the afternoon sun, and a smile that’s entirely identical to Sidney’s and your son’s.

Close to losing all the words you know, you were able to say one name.

“Taylor.”

She wastes no second, “Is it true?”

You see Taylor’s eyes wander off to Luke’s toy bin sitting idly near the staircase. The discerning look on her face let you know she no longer needed an answer.

“Come in.” you say.

Quiet and unsettling air sits as you invite Sidney’s sister inside your home. You did not really know where to begin. The best thing you can do now is to lead her to your living room, offer some tea, and sit in silence.

“Can I get you anything? I might have some tea lying around.” you say, offering formalities.

Taylor gives you a tight-lipped smile. Reserved. You get it. You would be too if you recently learned you had a nephew.

“Water would be nice.” she replies.

You give her a swift nod just as you tell her, “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

You turn on your heels and make your way towards the kitchen with cold hands and a pounding heart. Sitting with Sidney’s sister for afternoon tea isn’t exactly what you had in mind spending your time off work.

Needless to say, you prolong the trip to the kitchen and back to the living room. You need to buy yourself some time to process what’s about to happen.

Upon your return, you see Taylor looking at the photo wall you’ve created through the years. The very same one you caught Sidney looking at the first time you invited him over.

When the two of you catch each other’s gaze, you offer Taylor an apologetic smile. It’s true. You now realize how your new life — your growth looked like through the eyes of your old friends. A harsh reminder that none of them are in it.

You and Taylor were good friends ever since Sidney brought you to Halifax to meet his folks. You always had a hard time warming up to people you barely know, but with Taylor… well, she made it so easy.

If only she knew of the things you’ve gone through subsequent to the better parts of your life with her brother. Maybe then, she’d understand.

The two of you utter each other’s names at once, immediately stopping upon realization.

You gladly let Taylor know she could continue what she was about to say. After all, you know she has nothing but questions that only you could answer.

The first thing she asks is, “What happened?”

You begin to explain. You tell her about the first time you knew you were pregnant, the moment you told Sidney, and how things unraveled shortly after that. You spared her no detail of what has come and gone; the years that flew by so quickly and dreadfully slow at the same time.

“I didn’t know things were that hard,” she says apologetically, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” you pause, “I knew Sidney felt alone.”

With kind eyes, Taylor replies, “So were you.”

Taylor has always been on your side despite being Sidney’s sister. She knew how difficult her brother can be. After all, she grew up with him.

You sigh because what she said was true. You and Sidney were alone together. But regardless of the wall that separated the two of you, you didn’t want to let Sidney feel as alone as you felt when he left you. Maybe that’s why you inadvertently left Taylor out of the mess just so Sidney felt he still had someone on his side.

“At the time everyone blamed him for not wanting a child.” you begin, “I knew that if I told you, you’d feel the same as I do. I didn’t want him to feel that his sister was against him too.”

“Listen,” she says, “When Sid told me, I swore that I was gonna come up here and be mad at you… but for years, I’ve seen how the game ate up most of the Sid I knew. So I guess, I couldn’t really blame you.”

“I only did what I thought was the best for us.” you say honestly, “I just didn’t think the repercussions of my action would bring us into this much mess.”

It’s true. The life you pictured with your son excluded Sidney, but you should have known that what Claire told you was right the moment you came back to Pittsburgh with your son. Sure, the first year went by so blissfully. But you have forgotten yet another circumstance you should have known before you dealt another card: Luke.

Luke is growing up exactly how you dreamt him to be. A boy who has a mind of his own. You cannot really expect him to go along your every plan if he’s already becoming his own person, can you?

You hate yourself for it. However, you’ll hate yourself even more if you deprive him of something he is entitled to have no matter how much you’re against it.

Taylor stayed for a while. You spend the time showing her memories you’ve made with Luke. You showed pictures of your son as a newborn, the many birthday parties you have thrown for him, even the ones you have taken of him playing hockey. Taylor savored every bit of the nephew she could get to know. The only thing left now is to finally meet him.

With nothing but a humble heart you hold Taylor’s hand and say, “I’m really sorry.”

Taylor puts her hand on top of yours, giving it a squeeze. “I understand.”

“Do you want to meet him?”

“I do,” she gives you a warm smile, “but not when you and Sidney have yet to patch things up.”

You let go of her hand and sigh. You understood what she wanted you to do. For the first time, you wanted the same thing too.

“I’ll talk to him.”

𖥸

July has been warming up the city but your words still rang in Sidney’s ears as if it had just been uttered.

“I’m done.”

As hard as it was to admit, Sidney knew that the article was the final nail in the coffin — the final string that would make him understand why you had to keep his son away from him. Just like all the other times, you were right. He had always been less of a man much like all the others.

He couldn’t wrap his head around how he managed to screw things up worse than he already had even when he was barely making any progress. Perhaps, it was foolish of him to think he can still make it work. After all, what more remedy could he do to the very thing you have long buried six feet under?

Instead, what he did was go home to Halifax days subsequent to the release of the controversial article. The last thing he wanted was attention so he did the sanest thing he could think of: renovate his lake shed.

Apart from the fact that it was the off-season, Sidney could not see himself staying in his Pittsburgh home. The night you ended the attempt to co-parent with him only reminded Sidney of the time he foolishly thought he had already purged out of his system. It was as if he had been brought back to the night he was told his child was gone.

“Please don’t end us.” he says, knees already on the cold hospital floor. “Please don’t make me leave.”

Sidney feels your grip on his hand tighten as an attempt to break off his hold, but before you can do so, the door to your room opens to reveal Kris and Geno rushing to take Sidney away from you.

“Sidney,” he hears Geno call his name.

He didn’t budge. He wasn’t going anywhere without you. He knew you needed him. He understood what had to be done. A little too late, but he’s here now.

“Y/N-”

“Sid,” Kris places a hand on his shoulder just as he firmly says, “let her rest.”

It was the least Sidney could do. To let you be — as he had easily done so when it was the last thing you wanted.

Sidney came back to the hospital with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. He walked the halls with hope only to find out you were no longer there. He had been cut off as soon as Kris and Geno walked him out of your hospital room — the last time he was ever going to see you.

He waited for hours sitting on the lobby bench beside your hospital room. If it were not for the next patient arriving to occupy the room, Sidney would not have probably left.

The days he spent in your shared home haunted him of the days he had left you alone in it waiting for him to come home. The house he had built with his fame and successes have now become a constant reminder of what a failure it really was.

Sidney sighed once he finished a glass of water. He absent mindedly places it atop the counter as his eyes remained in focus at a photograph placed on his refrigerator. It had been a while since he last saw it. After all, he only gets to go home during the off season.

He walks towards the fridge and takes the photo in his hand. It was the first sonogram you had of your son. The one you dread having to leave when you finally had the courage to leave Sidney, but the last possession Sidney has of the life he could have been living.

With eyes now glistening with impending tears, Sidney lightly rubs his thumb on the picture — what was once a tiny little peanut has grown to become a boy Sidney could no longer keep out of his mind. He’s hurting at the fact that he misses you — but his heart aches at the thought of Luke eventually forgetting about him. Sidney knows he’s going to be yet another random ‘Mr.’ at a camp that happened to teach him a sport he will grow up to forget eventually. All those memories Sidney will bring with him to his deathbed will surely be forgotten by the time the tiny little peanut graduates from college.

Who else could he blame for the life he’s now living however miserable it may be? You offered him this life with your own life on the line. Sidney did nothing but toss it aside because he was set on his ways. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself. Perhaps, that’s what he should bring to his deathbed.

Sidney’s self-loathing was put into a halt when he heard a chime coming from his phone already buzzing on his kitchen counter.

He sees a message that almost had him on his knees.

Just below your name were the words he had least expected but mostly hoped to read, “Can we talk?”

𖥸

As soon as you were able to set a date, Sidney wasted no time and got in the next flight bound for Pittsburgh. Sidney had two days to prepare before meeting you and while that seemed like enough time to be able to think about what he’s going to say the moment he sees you, he could neither ascertain how to explain nor justify his shortcomings. So, he won’t.

Sidney watches your car pull over the driveway after having opened his gate. After the tedious two-day wait, you were back. Well, at least that’s what Sidney thought at the time. Because unlike him, it was not just two days — it has been six years.

Sidney was chivalrous enough to let a few seconds pass before he finally opened the door for you although to tell you the truth, he had been at the other side of it long before you rang the doorbell.

You follow Sidney’s steps as you make your way to the living room. Said walk was not like the others you used to thread on back when you were still together — it wasn’t so long and quiet. At least, it didn’t feel that way.

“Can I offer you a drink?” Sidney asks. The hoarseness in his voice strung along his words.

Has he been crying that much? His eyes were a bit tired. He hasn’t been sleeping. How come Kris said he was fine? But then again, Sidney has had quite a talent in putting up a facade. You catch him fiddling his thumb. When he sees where your eyes have been, Sidney immediately takes his hand into his pocket.

You immediately put your gaze elsewhere. “Uh, just water.”

As you scan the view that is Sidney Crosby’s home, one thing comes to mind: it looks nothing like Connor Mcdavid’s. Sidney’s was far more deserving to be featured in Architectural Digest. To hell with black and metal. This was a home.

Well, it is. Just not for Sidney.

Even if it was, a part of you knew Sidney would never parade his home for everyone else to see; let alone have it printed on a magazine.

Apart from the wood panels that fashioned the ceilings, everything else was unfamiliar. It was as if you never lived in it. He had new pieces displayed in various corners of the room. Some of it worth millions sitting idly beside or on top of worn out books like some mere paper weight.

Sidney also redid the floors. Neutral wide plank flooring. You thought that it was quite a bold choice considering the majority of the furniture you had before came in dark tones. But then, that made you realize Sidney also bought new furniture. He also changed a few fixtures, here and there. The white french sliding doors leading to the patio were now replaced with glass doors that had wood trimmings as well as the hallway leading to your old home office that now had interior glass doors. You notice tons of boxes you could see from the other side. Perhaps, he thought it would now be a good use for a storage space. After all, he had to fill in every bit of void you’ve left him with.

You tear your eyes away from the halls you used to frequent. Instead, you quietly follow Sidney’s footsteps. The house still had an open floor-plan. Sidney loved seeing everything at once. At least that hasn’t changed.

“Make yourself comfortable.” he says with a tight-lipped smile just as he turns towards the kitchen.

The cloud of uncertainty was still evident and heavy. To top it all, you were neither sure of what to tell him nor where to begin. Clearly, you should have bought yourself a bit more time before ringing his doorbell.

You hold your bag close to your chest once you’ve sat in Sidney's living room. You were wrong. The changes he made were drastic. His taste then was incomparable to how it is now. The Sidney you knew then wouldn’t be so meticulous as to what type of wood to use in his fireplace or what fabric to pick when it comes to throw pillows lining the couch. Hell, he wouldn’t have thought of having one — let alone five.

A quiet smile seeps in your lips. It’s nice that something good has come out of such an ugly chapter in your lives.

Your eyes catch a shade of blue and crimson red blankly displayed on the side of the room from where you were sitting. You feel a gnawing guilt resting in your guts as the painting comes into full view. You stand as your hand travels to your chest. It was a piece by Peter Doig called the “100 Years Ago”.

A man sits alone in a canoe in the middle of a quiet and still ocean. The man looks at you helpless and tired of what must have been an arduous journey. You meet his eyes, as if it were in desperate need of help. Your help. But then again, there’s an island waiting for him — even a house sitting on top of the hill. Couldn’t he just row his way and ask for help? Perhaps his inability to do so was due to the fact that he’d already gone to that house — maybe what it really was is just as empty as what he already had in the canoe.

As the eerily still piece settles before your eyes, you can’t help but think of what it must have been like to be the one that’s stuck. The man that was torn between two distances. To choose between whatever it was sitting before his eyes and the big island he can always call home.

“Hey.”

Sidney’s voice pulls you back to your feet.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” he says, two glasses of water in each hand.

“No, it’s all right.” you say.

“That–” you turn your gaze back to the painting before continuing, “That is something.”

Sidney gives a humble smile. “Thanks. I got it a couple of years back when I started renovating the place.”

It would be absurd to say that Sidney’s house has not changed since the last time you walked its halls. It did change. A lot. After all, you didn’t expect him to leave everything as it was; how you left it. Despite that, there was a little hope that Sidney did leave a bit of what might have reminded him of you untouched.

“So– listen, the reason why I came here.” you begin, hugging the glass with both your hands.

“I know. Taylor.” Sidney saves you the need to explain. “I’m sorry I told her. I wasn’t in my right mind the last couple of weeks.”

It’s true. He knew it must have been hard for you to tell Taylor everything. It was yet another reason for you to cut him completely out of your life, yet another rash decision, yet another failure. Sidney did what he could at the time and his only wish now is for you to understand. He had just lost you and his son twice. To have done otherwise would have made him lose his mind.

“No. It’s alright. She’s bound to know that she has a nephew.” you earnestly reply.

At this point, you have come to realize that you’ve been insufferable regardless of your own merits. Sidney thought he had lost a son. You couldn’t possibly deprive him of his own sister.

“How– how is he?” he asks, afraid of how he’ll be answered.

You look Sidney in his eyes just as you say, “He’s been missing you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

Sidney takes in the new information as a quiet smile spreads on his lips. Luke misses him.

Seeing Sidney’s reaction brought you a sense of guilt and warmth only a parent could feel.

“Honestly, Taylor visiting isn’t really the reason why I’m here.”

His brows quirk and asks, “What do you mean?”

“I think…” you say, fighting yourself from refusing to tell Sidney the truth. The very truth that you’re still having a hard time accepting.

“I think it’s time to acknowledge– and for me to accept, that my son needs you.”

It’s the truth. It might have been hard for you given that Sidney was the root of it all, but you could no longer put up with the way you have been treating Sidney at your son’s expense. You may still have bits of resentment towards what once was but that doesn’t give you a right to deprive your son of his right. A part of you may still hate Sidney for the pain he caused you, but you could not bear the thought of your son hating his father because of your own doing.

Sidney is at a loss for words.

“Do you really mean that?”

He sees you nod.

You give him a reassuring smile.

“It’s one thing to keep a father away from his child, but it’s another to keep a child away from his father.”

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note: patience patience patience. thank you all! ♡

add yourself to the series taglist here. i appreciate all kinds of feedback! ♡

#sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby x reader #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #call me crosby #cmc #barzzal imagines #letters to crosby

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jackhues · 1 year ago

Text

3 + 1 - sidney crosby

notes: i hope you guys like this, first fic for 'it's the most wonderful time of the year', had lots of fun making this!!

likes are good, reblogs are better <3

part of naqia's end of the year celly!

gif not mine

i. (1994)

you'd known sidney your entire life. one of the first memories you had with him was fighting him for the last hockey stick in the store.

well, it wasn't the last hockey stick. but it was the last one of all the types you used to play. it just so happened to be the only one sidney used.

after a game of rock, paper, scissors (you won), sidney got mad and demanded a best of three. maybe it was the defiant look in his eyes at only seven years old, but you decided he could have the stick.

"are you sure?" he asked, now looking hesitant about taking the stick.

you nodded, "i'm sure. they'll get one of the sticks i use in a few days. you can have this one. i'll just steal my brother's stick until then."

sidney grinned, "thanks, y/n."

you smiled back at him, feeling the start of a friendship. you'd lived near him your entire life, but you'd only begun talking to him because of hockey.

"just don't forget to send me a card when you go to one of your tourneys," you told him.

you and sidney laughed over that, before heading back home with your parents. it was after this day that you began to say hi to each other in the halls of school, that you decided to pair up for projects, that you became friends.

over the two months it took until christmas morning, you forgot about what you'd told him. but sidney didn't forget his promise.

and it was on december twenty fifth, that you received a post card in the mail from some place in quebec. a seven year old sidney had tried his best to make the letters look pretty, writing on the side, 'merry christmas, and thanks for the hockey stick, y/n. it helped me win!'

you peered in the envelope, finding a picture of sidney hoisting his giant hockey trophy. you smiled at that.

even though he was so far away, it felt like you were celebrating christmas together.

ii. (2004)

'sidney patrick crosby, you have got to be kidding me! you have a huge hotel, you're in finland, and you've got some of the best people with you. and yet, you're saying you wished you were here playing pond with the rest of us? you're crazy. anyways, make sure you score a goal or something, and have lots of fun! honestly, not scoring is fine if you have fun. good luck at the world juniors! i'll be cheering you on from back home :))'

you signed off the letter, sealing it and placing it to the side to deliver later.

at seventeen years old, sidney had become the only under-18 player at this year's world junior tournament for team canada. it was a thing to celebrate, but sidney was upset he would be missing the town's annual christmas pond hockey game.

you and him had played together on the same team for the last nine years, winning every time. this was the first time he wouldn't be here to help your team defend the title.

but that was okay, you thought as you packed up your christmas gear and made your way to the pond.

because sidney was going to play on your t.v. tomorrow, at the national level. it was his first time playing for canada, and you knew he was excited for that.

he just wasn't a fan of missing the small things.

it was why he'd began sending you letters and post cards as he moved around for tournaments and hockey games. they were cute souvenirs, and you didn't mind sending him a letter back.

you just wished he could've been here to celebrate christmas with the rest of you.

iii. (2009 - pretend ft was invented a year earlier)

"merry christmas, love."

you smiled, "merry christmas sid."

sidney adjusted his phone, fixing the facetime so you could see him better. you laughed as he struggled for a minute, finally getting a proper angle.

"don't move!" you said. "there, perfect. now your entire face is on my screen."

he laughed as he shook his head to himself.

the two of you had been friends for thirteen years before he worked up the courage to ask you out. and for the last two years of your relationship had been amazing. there were ups, like seeing him win the stanley cup, and there were downs, like seeing him take some uncalled for hits.

but you were happy. and so was sid.

the two of you had planned to celebrate christmas together in pittsburgh, until a family emergency had you coming back to nova scotia last minute.

everything turned out fine, but it was just too late to get a ticket back to pittsburgh.

even so, you and sid had found a way to work around that.

the two of you spent most of the day on the phone with each other, talking and laughing together. it wasn't what either of you had planned, but you made it enjoyable.

it was a great christmas.

iv. (2012)

"sidney, will you get down here already?"

"i'm coming, i'm coming," he called from upstairs.

you sighed, waiting for your husband to get up and get downstairs. christmas morning was the one morning you were happy to get out of bed, but it was also the one morning sid wanted to sleep in.

sam, sidney's dog, came down the stairs, curling around by the christmas tree as he waited for sid with you.

a few minutes passed before sidney made his way downstairs, eyes half closed but a sleepy smile plastered on his face to greet you.

"good morning, love," he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "merry christmas."

"merry christmas," you smiled, pressed a kiss to his jaw. "we eating breakfast first or presents first?"

"mmm, breakfast," sid decided.

"i knew you were going to say that," you laughed, pulling him along to the kitchen.

you'd already prepared breakfast before he came down. some eggs, sausage and bread. it was a good way to pass the time as you waited for sid to get downstairs.

the two of you took your seats, laughing as you ate breakfast and discussed how far you'd gone in life together.

"you almost tripped on the ice," he reminded you.

"no one told me i had to go out on the ice after you guys won," you argued. "i was so excited over you guys winning the stanley cup, i didn't even notice i was being ushered to the ice until i took my first step."

sid laughed as the two of you slowly made your way to the living room.

"here, open my present first," he said, rummaging under the tree to pull out a long, rectangular box.

the two of you had started the tradition of opening all of your sentimental gifts before the other cute ones. and even though you wanted to go first this year, you supposed it was alright if sid got this one.

you unwrapped the box, pulling out a familiar hockey stick. one that you'd given sidney eighteen years ago.

"oh my god," you muttered, tears building up in your eyes.

"i found it in my parent's garage last summer," he shrugged a little. "i remembered how badly you wanted it. and even though it's too small now, i thought you'd like the memory."

"i love it," you grinned, wiping the corners of your eyes. "it's absolutely perfect. i'm putting this up next to that picture of you holding up the trophy."

sid laughed at your response, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"you can do whatever you like with it."

you put the stick to the side, your hands slightly shaky as you grabbed another, much smaller, box. "here. now open my present."

sid took the box from your hands, unwrapping it and opening it. he stared at the contents of the box, unable to form a sentence as he looked between the box and you.

"you -- this -- seriously?" his eyes shined as he stared at you.

you nodded, feeling the tears build up yourself. "we're having a baby."

sid laughed, pulling you in for a hug. "oh my god, this is amazing. a baby, you and me."

the two of you held each other that day, celebrating christmas together.

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thedevilrisen · 6 months ago

Note

sidney/jack/quinn (any of them) catching luke and nova making out

Sure!

"Dad! Luke and I will be in my room." Nova called as she brought walked hand in hand with her boyfriend up the stairs.

"Alright, leave the door open please?" Sid had asked, her didn't think they were the type of kids to do anything stupid but it made him feel better knowing that the door was open.

"Yeah!" Nova had called back down, once they crossed the thresh hold of Nova's room she turned and spoke to Luke. "Welcome!"

Luke admired Nova's room, he could see that she had made it hers. Nova flopped onto her bed and dragged Luke down with her. They were laying face to face.

"Hi." Luke had whispered. Smiling at her.

"Hey." Nova had smirked, leaning forward slightly, brushing their lips together. Luke's hand reached around the back of her waist, tugging her closer so her body was flushed with his, he deepened this kiss, licking along the seem of Nova's lips, asking for entry. Nova opened her mouth into the kiss as Luke's tongue licked in. Nova had roped her fingers in the curls around the nape of Luke's neck, Lukes hand slipped up the back of Nova's shirt to caress her waist.

"Hey did you guys wa-" Sidney was startled, "Uhm did you guys want some pizza?"

Nova tried to make herself a little more presentable, pulling her shirt down and fixing her her, "Yeah Dad, that would be great."

"Uh, yep alright. Be downstairs in five, please? Oh and Luke, maybe refrain from trying to shove your tongue too far down her throat, she has to do a speech on Monday." Sid had said.

"Uh, yeah, sorry Mr. Crosby."

#risen rambles :d #jack hughes #quinn hughes #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes #luke hughes fic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby #sidney crosby fanfic #sidney crosby fanfiction #sidney crosby x reader #Nova Crosby x Luke Hughes #nc57

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sc0tters · 1 year ago

Text

It’s Time | Sidney Crosby

summary: Sidney is sent to Canada as he tries to get you back and the long awaited arrival of peanut finally happens.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, legal age gap (reader is 23!)

word count: 3.17k

authors note: peanut is now in our lives and we get the chance to see the semi happy ending for this weird couple! For those of you who aren’t ready to see this story end I’ve made it into a series that you can find under the ‘Crosby x Bedard sister!’ tag, so of course if you want to see some things for that then head to my asks and let your dreams go wild! For those of you who have made it this far in this series, I love you.

part one | previous part

It was like there was a silent competition between you two to see who missed the other more.

34 weeks

What Sidney didn’t think was that when he woke up he’d wake up to a phone call from you. It had been weeks since you last spoke and after trying to desperately call you each day Sidney was beginning to lose faith.

He had been in the gym when your contact info lit up his phone “fuck Bedard, I’ve missed you so freaking-” his words were quickly cut off ”y/n isn’t here you dickhead.” Connor grumbled slamming his bedroom door shut as he had to hide your phone from you.

If you had told Connor that he’d be on the phone to one of his idols growing up like this he would have sworn that you were lying “she refuses to admit that she misses you and as much as she doesn’t need you your kid does.” There was no secret that you were good on your own, it’s the reason why you were single throughout your time working with the Penguins.

Sidney rubbed his face as he listened to what your brother had to say “it’s all good her missing me but she doesn’t want to talk to me.” Sidney pointed out as you hadn’t even opened the text messages that he had sent you.

Connor let out a scoff “she’s stubborn and it’s like worse now that she’s pregnant.” He muttered to himself as he rolled his eyes “point is can you come see her and apologise or not?” He added hearing your voice come from the end of the hallway.

The older boy had to say that he appreciated the way your brother was protective over you “I can be there next week.” Sidney hated that he had training camps the entire week that he couldn’t say no to.

“Con you seen my phone anywhere?”

Your voice rang through the line as you stuck your head into your brothers room.

The younger Canadian player panicked as he hid your phone behind his back “nothing,” Sidney knew he should have listened for longer but truthfully he couldn’t, instead he pulled open his laptop looking to see which flights he could get to come see you.

He was getting his girl, one and for all.

35 weeks

Lounging in the pool of your parents lake house was your personal favourite activity to do especially now that you were heavily pregnant. Laying down on the little pool floatie as you and peanut got the chance to soak up some much needed vitamin D was like your little sanctuary that everyone knew not to bother “y/n someone is here for you!” Connor called out walking back into the house making his way to the porch “tell them I’m busy,” you groaned not wanting any company.

But of course the company had to follow Connor into the house “can we talk Bedard?” Sidney asked clutching to the blanket that you had bought peanut and forgot in Pittsburgh during your effort to leave quickly.

Being full of surprise your body shot up as you looked at him with wide eyes causing you to almost fall off of the float all together “boat,” was all you could get out as you had the keys on the table sat under one of Sidney’s shirts.

There was a collection of those in your closet and it was now all you were living in “hurt her and I’ll hurt you,” Connors warning to Sidney made you laugh as you got out of the water “let’s go before this one gets aggressive.” You teased your brother as you ruffled your fingers through his hair causing him to groan.

The Penguins player felt his heart burst watching the interaction between you and your brother. You seemed at peace with the younger Bedard until you turned to face your coworker “shall we go?” You asked spinning the keys on your finger.

Sidney furrowed his eyebrows as he followed you to the dock “are you sure you should be driving?” His voice was soft when he locked eyes with Betty your boat.

You scoffed looking back at him with a glare “I’m driving a boat, not a fucking mechanical bull.” You grumbled placing your hands on your hips as you continued to walk.

He chewed at his cheek as he realised he had fucked up “look I’m sorry,” Sidney mumbled as he watched you hop onto the boat.

It was a place you had told him so much about during your late nights staying up talking “just get on so we can talk.” You matched his quiet tone as you sighed.

That twenty minute ride to your favourite part of the lake was the longest ride of your life done in total silence “surprised to see you here.” You broke the silence getting up to sit closer to him.

Sidney was surprised when you let your knee hit his “couldn’t sleep knowing you were weren’t happy with me.” He confessed ignoring the way his body felt on fire as your fingers danced over his.

Something that you continued to hate about yourself was the way you were always scared of confrontation “look Sid you can fuck whoever you want really.” You shrugged readjusting the cap on your head “just because I’m having your baby doesn’t mean you owe me anything.” Sure you were hurt admitting that but you managed through most of that pregnancy without him.

He frowned hearing you say that “you’re the girl I want to sleep with,” his words made you laugh “you already did that.” You pointed out pointed to your belly.

The hockey player let a smile form on his face “not like that,” he sighed hooking his hand under your knee as he pulled you closer to him.

You mumbled something under your breath as you placed your hand on his chest “I want you for Monday coffees everyday, I want peanut to grow up in one house and one house only.” It felt like a punch in the gut that he was making this about the baby.

Thankfully nobody else was around as you partially wanted to cry “look if you want me for peanut then I’m happy to simply be friends.” You weren’t happy about that, of course you weren’t but with Sidney making you feel like it was what he wanted you had to accept it.

Sidney wanted you to shut up and listen as he tried to tell you how he felt “I want to do this with you and only you.” His announcement made you smile as your cheeks turned pink.

Part of you couldn’t stand how Sidney made you feel all mushy inside and you fully blamed peanut for this “really?” You giggled as he used his strength to pull you onto his lap.

He laughed as he grabbed your hat and threw it somewhere on the boat “deadly,” the hockey player let his fingers trace along your jaw.

His fingers moved to tuck your hair behind your face “you are really pretty you know that?” Sidney’s voice was deep as you felt his thighs tense beneath you.

In that moment you fully throughly about letting him fuck you senseless -another feeling you were going to blame on peanut- “Sid don’t fuck this up,” you warned letting your nose bump his as you stared at his lips.

You were close to letting out a whimper “promise you I won’t Bedard.” Sidney mumbled moving his fingers to the back of your head as he finally kissed you.

It was slow as he savoured every moment of that kiss like it was going to be the last kiss that he was ever going to get from you.

But of course the universe wasn’t going to let you enjoy the soft feeling of his lips “feel this!” You gasped pulling away to quickly grab his had that you placed on your belly as you pushed your shirt up.

It seemed that peanut wanted to say hello “you feeling neglected now?” Sidney laughed as he looked down to your stomach.

37 weeks

Sidney had been a nervous wreck for the last two weeks “good morning,” you smiled as you walked down stairs giving his lips a peck.

Since that moment in the boat you guys had been in this weird flirting stage where you two happily kissed whenever you were alone “hey Bedard,” he wrapped his hands around your waist as he took in what you were wearing.

You were in this blue bikini that made your boobs look fabulous as they were bigger than ever. It wasn’t helped by the problem where you had your shorts on that couldn’t even be zipper up your belly was that big “peanut behaving?” Sidney asked letting his hands slide down to your belly placing a kiss on it too.

Every morning that’s what Sidney did, a kiss for you and a kiss for her “thinking of going for a ride today,” you announced as you loved driving Sidney’s boat.

It should have made you laugh how Sidney drove the car and you drove the boat (even though he was perfectly capable of driving it, he let you have this one) “I wanted to ask you something first,” Sidney mumbled letting his lips hover over your lips.

You raised your eyebrows waiting for him to reveal what he wanted to say “don’t hold out on me now cap.” You felt your stomach rumble as you hadn’t eaten anything “let’s start with breakfast.” Sidney laughed letting you go as you had your usual thing of berries for breakfast.

A scoff left your lips “you can’t not tell me what you wanted to!” You complained as your lips turned into a pout.

Sidney smiled as his hand cupped the back of your neck pulling you closer to him as he got up “what are you going to do if I don’t?” The hockey player asked licking his lips as he smirked.

Part of you wanted to roll your eyes for playing his game “I wont kiss you anymore,” you announced clicking your tongue as you giggled.

He shook his head “know you like the feeling of my lips way too much.” Sidney swore he was a deadman walking when he saw you push onto your tippy toes to move your lips closer to his.

You frowned when he moved his lips further away from yours “don’t fuck with me when I’m this pregnant with your child Crosby.” You warned deciding that he couldn’t say no if you pulled the I’m carrying your child card.

It warmed the captains heart to be reminded of how you were pregnant with his kid but there was still one thing missing “I wanna date you Bedard.” Sidney confessed causing a grin to break out on your face.

Whilst you wanted to feel silly feeling your heart melt instead you giggled “you getting all soft on me Sid?” You teased seeing his cheeks turn a deep shade of red.

The hockey player let out a playful scoff “you tell anyone you get to see this side of me and I’ll deny it.” He warned bringing his lips down to yours “you think I want to date you?” You asked repeatedly blinking at him.

Safe to say Sidney was lost for words as he didn’t know what to do watching you stand there straight lipped “I’m just fucking with you.” You laughed shaking your head as you pushed yourself onto your tippy toes placing your hand on the back of his neck as you grazed his lips “you’re now my girlfriend, I’m getting more than just that peck.” The hockey player grunted giving your waist a squeeze.

All was going well for you until being pregnant decided to come back and bite you in the ass “wait,” you groaned placing your hand on his chest as you pushed him away from you.

Sidney looked at you with wide eyes “what?” He asked growing concerned “I gotta pee,” you announced drawing a laugh from his lips.

“Who would have thought that my daughter would be my cock block?”

You heard the statement causing you to let out a gasp “you better not be talking badly about my baby Sid,” you warned raising your finger at him letting your hand sit on under your belly.

He leaned against the wall seeing you break out into another giggle “what happened to needing to go to the bathroom?” Sidney asked licking his lips as your face turned into a scowl “forgot about that,” you groaned now heading to the bathroom.

“I got a good one,”

39 weeks

Being with Sidney as his girlfriend it felt like pure pleasure. You guys truthfully used this time to finish up the prep for peanuts arrival “you ready to go?” Sidney asked watching you walk down the stairs as you laughed seeing that the boy had made you one of his signature smoothies, fulled with all of the weird fruits that were apparently good for the baby.

You nodded as you smiled “excited to see your parents,” you mumbled wrapping your hand around the cup as you kissed his lips.

Sidney tried to give you the quietest two weeks leading up to peanuts arrival as he wanted you to have as much relaxation time as you could possibly get. But his mother was one person he couldn’t say no to (you were the other) and now that meant you two were going for breakfast with them “we’re already late,” the hockey player complained looking down at his watch.

It made you roll your eyes “if there is one time that they can be okay with me being late is when I’m this pregnant with their grandchild.” You pointed out sipping at the smoothie as you tucked your hair behind your ear letting the boy take note of how you were in his shirt as well as a pair of his basketball shorts.

He laughed taking the bag from your hand “let’s just make sure that we aren’t any later than we need to be.” Sidney explained walking to the door as you were hot on his tail.

Or at least that was until you felt a sharp pain in your stomach, it was different to the ones that you had been feeling throughout the morning. Of course you refused to tell Sidney because the last thing you needed was him worrying about you as he tried to wrap you in bubble wrap. You knew he didn’t do it intentionally but you had grown tired of watching him stop you from living life, yes you were still mad that he took the keys to the boat away from you.

The sound of the smoothie bottle hitting the floor made Sidney’s blood run cold “you okay Bedard?” He furrowed his eyebrows placing your bag on the ground as you went to help you.

You let out a groan as you clutched your stomach “we’re gonna have to cancel on your parents Sid,” you announced with wide eyes as you shook your head “she’s coming,” you added feeling the cold sensation of water trickling down your thighs as you lifted up the shirt your were wearing to see that there was now a wet patch that soaked your shorts.

Up until he saw the look of panick on your own face Sidney wanted to just about die at the thought of peanut arriving early, sure he was excited to see her. But the idea of actually being a dad to someone was now feeling all too real “let’s go have a baby?” His voice shook as he tried to act like he was ready to do this.

It wasn’t like he had already packed the hospital bags two weeks ago and they had been living in his car, not to mention that he already had the car seat installed too. So when you nodded and squeezed Sidney’s hand trying to avoid the pain that the oncoming contraction was sending you it made him realise that you two were bound to make it through any challenges that peanut sent your way.

39 weeks

Your body was tired as you tried to take a nap. Your mom had warned you about the toll that birthing a child has on someone but you really didn’t think that it was going to be this bad “I know your momma is sleeping right now but when she wakes up I promise that you’re going to love her.” Sidney spoke away to his daughter happily as she cooed at whatever he said to her.

Sidney smiled as he looked up to see you looking at him “hey momma,” the new nickname had you feeling like you were all fuzzy inside.

The hockey player made his way over to you “how you feeling?” He asked placing a kiss on your forehead as he sat next to you.

Nurses had been in and out of your room gushing about how cute the new family was “like I just had a baby,” you mumbled drawing a laugh from Sidney’s lips.

You couldn’t help it when your eyes were drawn to your daughter as she stared at her father “we did good,” you added realising why every parent always said that their babies were adorable because you swore that peanut was the cutest baby you had ever seen.

Sidney looked at you as he smiled “that’s all you baby,” he muttered using his other hand to hook his fingers under your jaw as he pulled you into a kiss.

It was soft letting you shut your eyes melting into it as you forgot that your daughter was in his arms “love you,”you swore his words were sent to the baby so you kept quiet “I see I how it is,” Sidney clicked his tongue causing you to look up at him “talking to me?” You asked looking back up at him.

He threw his head back when he let out a laugh “yeah!” The hockey player exclaimed causing your eyes to light up “I love you too then.” The part of you that wondered if he was saying this because you were now the mother to his child, didn’t care because you were simply so tired.

The hockey player let his fingers dance on your jaw “you know how to make a man feel good,” he mumbled making you laugh “shut up and kiss me.” Peanut watched her parents with big eyes as she smiled like she knew it was the first time that they had said I love you.

Of course that moment was never bound to last when the door bursted open “are you going to let me meet my niece or what?” Connor asked barging into the room causing you to jump away from the older boy.

A grin formed on Sidney’s face watching his family and yours follow in shortly after “wash your hands and then you can meet peanut.” The hockey player announced looking at you for confirmation that you agreed.

“come meet our baby.”

#crosby x Bedard sister!#sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagines #Sidney Crosby oneshots #imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #Sidney Crosby x reader #amber writes fics

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angelsuecult · 2 months ago

Text

a lonely night | s. crosby

“it was the only time

and if i led you on then i apologize”

warnings: explicit sexual content, MDNI, 18+, nsfw, rough encounters, strong language, unprotected sex, smut

summary: what was meant to be a casual fling has sidney wanting more from a woman who has made her intentions clear.

wordcount: 4.2k

song: a lonely night - the weeknd

a/n: this is lowkey my first time ever writing something like this so it might not be the best but i like it. i hope you guys do too! also i didn’t proofread so it might be all over the place, sorry!

———

It was a crowded charity event, one of those high-profile affairs where athletes and celebrities mingle, the kind of scene Sidney usually tolerated more than enjoyed. He had just scored a hat-trick the night before, so naturally, the room was abuzz with people trying to congratulate him, trying to been seen with him. He wore that success with a bit more arrogance than usual tonight��shoulders squared, chin up, a smirk tugging at his lips as he worked the room.

You were there as well, not out of any real obligation but because your PR team insisted it would be good for your image. You moved through the crowds with an effortless grace, accepting compliments with a smile that never quite reached your eyes. You were used to this, to people fawning over you, wanting a piece of you. But you weren’t here for them.

When Sidney caught sight of you, something about your presence struck him—maybe it was the way you seemed almost indifferent to the attention you received, like you had better things to do. Or maybe it was the way your gaze, when it did meet his, was steady and unflinching, showing no sign of anything really.

He approached you with a self-assured stride, that trademark Crosby confidence, expecting you to respond like everyone else did—flattered, intrigued, maybe even a little starstruck.

“You must be Y/N,” he said, voice smooth, carrying that undercurrent of cocky charm.

“And you must be Sidney Crosby,” you replied, your tone natural, giving nothing away.

His smile widened. “I guess that makes us the center of attention, eh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself, babe. I’m here for the free drinks.”

Sidney chuckled, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. You weren’t playing along, weren’t biting the bait he dangled so casually. “You’re not a hockey fan, I take it?”

“I’m a fan of a good game,” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “But I’m not here to feed anyone’s ego.”

Sidney’s smirk faltered for a second before he recovered. “That’s refreshing,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Most people in this room can’t get enough of it.”

You met his gaze head-on, unbothered by how close he was now. “Maybe they’re just better at pretending than I am.”

Sidney's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of irritation creeping in. “So, what are you pretending to do here then?”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. “Charity. Same as you, I’m guessing.”

“Except people actually want to see me here,” he shot back, his voice taking on a sharper edge.

“And I’m sure that helps you sleep at night,” you replied, not missing a beat.

There was a brief silence, charged with the tension of your verbal back and forth. Sidney was used to winning, on and off the ice, but this was a different kind of game, one where his usual moves didn’t seem to land the way he expected.

Finally he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded you with a new level of interest. “I gotta say, this night just got a hell of a lot more interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he said leaning in. “I don’t meet many people who aren’t impressed by me.”

“Maybe you should meet more people,” you suggested.

Sidney smirked, recognizing the game you were playing. “Maybe. But most of them aren’t as interesting as you.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said, keeping your expression unchanged.

“Who said I was trying to go anywhere?” he shot back, his smirk widening.

A beat of silence settled once more, this time it was thick with tension. Sidney was used to women being drawn to him, used to his charm working like a well-oiled machine. But you weren’t giving him anything, and that only made him more determined.

“So if you’re not a fan of hockey, what are you a fan of?” he asked, trying a different approach.

“I never said I wasn’t a fan of hockey,” you replied, your tone still calm, still controlled. “I just said I’m not a fan of yours.”

The words hung in the air between them, shark and unexpected. Sidney blinked, taken aback for a split second before he could regain his composure.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to work on changing that,” he said, his voice low, almost daring.

“Good luck,” you said, your lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “You’ll need it.”

———

Later that evening, after the event had wound down and most of the crowd had thinned out, Sidney found himself in the hotel bar. He wasn’t quite ready to call it a night, his mind still buzzing with the thrill of the evening. There was something about you—something that got under his skin in a way that he wasn’t used to.

He wasn’t surprised to see you there as well, sitting alone at the bar, a half empty glass of whiskey in front of you. He slid onto the stool beside you without an invitation.

“You don’t strike me as the type to drink alone,” he said, signaling the bartender for his own drink.

You barely glanced at him. “Maybe I’m not alone.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing around. “Doesn’t seem like anyone else is here.”

You gave a small smile. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Sidney took a sip of his drink, studying you. There was something about you, something that intrigued him beyond just surface-level attraction. Maybe it was the way you held yourself, or the way you seemed immune to the usual charm he used so effortlessly.

“So, what’s your deal?” he asked, leaning back slightly.

You sighed, swirling the liquid in your glass. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

There was a pause, the weight of your words hanging between you. Sidney didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to bridge the gap that seemed to open between you.

“Look,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less cocky than before. “I’m not here to mess with you. I just-”

You cut him off, your tone laced with sarcasm. “Wanted to see if you could score off the ice too?”

Sidney opened his mouth to respond, but then shut it again, realizing there was no easy way to explain himself. “Maybe,” he admitted after a moment. “But not like that.”

Your expression softened slightly, though you tried to keep your guard up. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”

He didn’t deny it, “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.”

“Maybe you could try harder then,” you suggested, your voice tinged with challenge.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You smirked, finally allowing him the satisfaction of a small smile. “So I’ve heard.”

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the tensions between you shifted into something else—something warmer, Sidney found himself leaning in, drawn to you in a way he hadn’t expected. But just as he was about to close the distance, you pulled back, placing a hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’m not looking for anything more than tonight,” you said firmly, your gaze steady on his.

He nodded, slowly, understanding what you were saying, but not entirely sure he could accept it. “Neither am I,” he lied.

You saw through it, but didn’t call him out on it. Instead, you leaned in, brushing your lips slightly against his in a kiss that was more a test than a promise. You smiled, a real smile this time, and it was like a punch to his gut. “Good. Then let’s keep it simple.”

He reached out to push a strand from your face, his fingers lingering longer than they should have, “Simple’s good.

You pulled away, your gaze never leaving his as you brushed your hair over your shoulder. “Then let’s get out of here.”

———

The atmosphere in the elevator was thick with tension, the kind that had been building since the moment your eyes first mentioned. You guys had barely made it inside before the doors slid shut, and the confined space only seems to amplify the electricity between you. The second the doors closed, all acts were dropped.

His hands were on you before you could even take a breath, his strong fingers gripping your waist, pulling you against him. You responded immediately, your hand sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt, before wrapping around his neck to pull him down to your level. Your lips crashed together in a heated kiss, all teeth and tongue, like you both had been holding back for far too long.

There was no gentleness in the way you both moved, only raw, unrestrained desire. Sidney’s hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin he could reach. His hands were rough as they slid up your thighs, hiking your dress around your waist, his fingers brushing against the lacy edge of your panties. You moaned softly against his mouth as his fingers slipped beneath the lace, finding you slick and ready. Your hips jerked involuntarily as he began to stroke you, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug deep into his clothed shoulders, and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from crying out.

“Sidney,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need as he pressed his thumb against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you see stars. The sounds coming from you were obscene, a mix of moans and whimpers that echoed off the walls of the small elevator.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” Sidney groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he watched you come undone beneath his touch. His fingers quickened their pace, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

The elevator seemed to crawl up to his floor, each second stretching out in agonizing anticipation. Sid growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against you in a way that made your knees weak. Before you could fall over that edge, the elevator dinged, signaling the arrival on his floor. Sidney pulled his hand away leaving you panting and on the verge of begging. The smug grin on his face told you he knew what he was doing to you, and it only made you want him more.

As soon as the doors opened, Sidney pulled you out into the hallway, barely giving you time to adjust to the change before he was on you again. You stumbled down the hallway, hands fumbling with clothes as you went. You gasped as Sidney pushed you up against a wall, his mouth trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin in a way that made you shiver.

“Baby,” you breathed, your voice a mix of need and impatience as you tugged at the buttons of his shirt, trying to pull it off of him. He laughed, a dark, sinful sound that sent a thrill down your spine as he leaned back just enough to rip the shirt open himself.

“Impatient, are we?” he teased, his eyes dark with desire as he reached for you again, this time hooking a hand around your thigh to hook your leg up around his waist. You didn’t bother with a response, instead letting out a soft moan as you felt the hard length of him pressing against you. Your dress was riding up, barely covering anything at this point, and he took full advantage, his hands slipping under the fabric to squeeze your ass, pulling you even closer.

“Room,” you managed to gasp, your voice strained with the effort of holding yourself together. “We need to get to the room.”

Sidney grunted in agreement, but didn’t release you. Instead, he adjusted his hold on you, practically lifting you off the ground as he continued down the hallway, his lips never leaving yours. You barely made it to the door before he was pinning you against it, his fingers digging into your hips as he rubbed against you, the friction making you both groan.

It took a moment to fumble for the keycard in his pocket, and you used the opportunity to suck on his bottom lip, earning a low, guttural sound from him that made your pulse race. Finally, he managed to get the door open, practically shoving it with his shoulder as he carried you inside.

The door slammed harshly behind you, but neither of you seemed to notice. You were too busy tearing at each other’s clothes, a frantic urgency consuming you as you both stumbled further into the room. Sid’s jacket hit the floor, followed by your dress, which he practically ripped off of you in his haste to get you naked. You weren’t far behind, your hands working feverishly to unbuckle his belt, pushing his pants down until they pooled at his feet.

You barely made it to the bed. Sidney’s hands were everywhere, exploring, gripping, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your breath caught as he lowered you onto the mattress, his body covering yours in an instant. The kisses between you were hungry, desperate, filled with a need that neither of you could contain.

“Jesus,” Sid growled, his voice thick with desire as he kissed a trail down your neck, his mouth hot against your skin. You arched into him, your nails raking down his back as you urged him on, needing more, needing him.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs wider as he settled between them, the hard length of him pressing against your core. “Now,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of urgency and need. “I need you now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the base of his cock, guiding himself to your opening. The first push was slow, deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him as he filled you. Your breath caught in your throat, nails digging into his back as you arched beneath him, the sensation overwhelming in the best way possible.

“Fuck, Y/N” he groaned, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. He began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful, each one hitting that perfect spot inside that made you cry out.

Your hands clutched at the sheets, your body rocking with each of his thrusts. The intensity of it, the way he moved inside of you, almost too much to bear, Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your moans echoing in the room as he drove into you, his pace relentless.

It didn’t take long before he flipped you over, your stomach pressed against the mattress as he positioned himself behind you. He gripped your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrust forward, the new angle sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your hands flew to the headboard, gripping it tightly for support as he fucked you from behind, his movements rough and demanding.

You could feel every inch of him, the way he filled you so completely, the way his hands dug into your hips, anchoring you to him, The sound of your bodies colliding, the wet slap of skin against skin, filled the room, mingling with both of your moans and gasps. It was messy, it was intense, it was exactly what you both needed.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Sidney groaned his voice deep and raspy, as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his release, driving you both to the brink

“Oh my god I’m close,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper as you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten, ready to snap. “Fuck.”

With a low growl, Sid pulled you up so that your back was flush against his chest, one his arms wrapped around you, with the other wrapped around your throat, as he continued to thrust from behind. “You take it so well,” he whispered in your ear. The new position sent you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you trembling. You cried out his name, your release coating his cock creating wet sounds as he continued to move inside of you drawing out your release. “That’s right baby,” he coaxed as your head rolled back onto his shoulder.

But he wasn’t done yet. He turned you around again, pulling you on top of him as he lay back on the bed. You straddled his hips, your hands resting on his chest as you sank down onto him, taking him in fully. The position gave you full control, and you didn’t waste it. You began to ride him, your movements slow at first, savoring the way he felt inside of you, before picking up the pace. “Good girl, holy fuck,” he breathed out.”

Sidney’s hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you rode him, his eyes locked on yours. The sight of you above him, head thrown back in pleasure, breasts bouncing about was almost enough to send him over the edge. He thrust up to meet you, matching your pace, the tension in his body building to an almost unbearable level.

“Y/n,” he gasped, his voice strained as he felt himself getting closer. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna—“

“Do it,” you urged, your own voice breathless as you rode him harder, pushing you both to the edge. The sound of your bodies moving together, the feel of him inside of you, was enough to tip you over again, your second orgasm hitting you with just as much force as the first. Your body clenched around him, and that was all Sidney needed.

With a low, guttural groan, Sidney came, his release hitting him like a tidal wave. He spilled into you, his hips jerking with intensity as he rode out the waves of pleasure. You continued to move above him, milking every last drop until you were both spent. bodies trembling with exhaustion.

You pulled yourself off of him, a mix of both of your juices dripped from out of you and onto his dick, causing him to throw his head back against the pillows. You collapsed together, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat, both of your breath heavy as you tried to catch your breath. The room was filled with the sounds of labored breathing, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as you lay there together, spent and satisfied. Your head rested against his chest, the rapid beating of his heart a steady rhythm beneath your ear. For a moment, you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your intense night together.

Finally, he turned his head in your direction, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light of the room. There was as softness in your gaze now, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before, and it tugged at something deep inside him. He leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips, his earlier roughness replaced with something almost tender.

“Stay,” he murmured, the word slipping out before he could stop it. He wasn’t sure why he said it—he’d never been the type to ask someone to stay the night—but with you, it felt different. Like maybe this could be more than just a one-night thing.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes searching his as if you were trying to figure out what he really meant. But then you smiled, a small, almost sad smile, and shook your head no. Sidney felt a pang of disappointment, but he didn’t push. He knew better than to ask for more than what was being offered, especially when it was clear you had your reasons. So he just nodded, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before pulling you fully into his arms.

“This was supposed to be simple,” you whispered, your voice still tinged with the remnants of shared passion.

Sid chuckled softly, his hands brushing through your hair. “Simple doesn’t seem to be our style, eh?”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your gaze searching his. ”We both know this doesn’t change anything, right?”

He nodded, though there was a part of him that wasn’t entirely convinced. “Right.”

You fell asleep like that, tangled together in the sheets, your bodies warm and tired.

———

Sidney woke up to the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the curtains. He stretched, reaching out to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. His hand brushed over the cool cheeks, a strange feeling settled in his chest—a mix of confusion and something else, something he wasn’t ready to name. He could almost feel you there, the ghost of your touch lingering on his skin.

Blinking against the light, he pushed himself up on one elbow and looked around the room. It was quiet, and the space beside him was untouched, as if no one had ever been there.

For a moment, he thought maybe he’d imagined it, that night you shared was just a vivid dream. But the faint scent of your perfume still lingered in the air, and the tousled sheets were evidence enough that you had been there, at least for a while.

He sat up fully, running a hand through his hair as he tried to piece together what had happened. Everything from the night before came rushing back—the charged banter, the undeniable chemistry, the way you’d felt around him, responding to his every touch. It had been intense, passionate, and for a brief moment, it had felt like more than just a short connection. He stared mindlessly at the floor, his mind replaying every moment, every touch, every moan. The sheets still smelled like you, and the memory of your body pressed against his was still fresh in his mind.

But now you were gone, and with you, the warmth and closeness that had enveloped him during those hours together. Sidney frowned, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. You must have left early, slipping out before he’d even had a chance to wake up.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he’d never been one for long goodbyes, especially when it came to flings. It was easier to keep things casual, to let it be what it was without any lingering complications.

But this felt different. The empty space beside him was a harsh reminder that you had made the decision to leave before he even had a chance to say anything. And that stung, more than he wanted to admit. As the silence settled around him, he realized that something had shifted inside him.

For the first time in a long while, Sidney felt something beyond just the physical satisfaction that usually followed a night like this. The sex had been incredible, that much was clear. But there was a nagging emptiness, a gnawing sense that what you shared wasn’t as casual as you both wanted to believe.

Sidney swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up as he tried to shake off the strange sense of loss. He told himself it was better this way—clean, simple, no strings attached. That’s what you agreed on, after all. You were gone, and he was alone. He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath as he tried to center himself. He had to get a grip—this was just another night, another woman, and life would go on as it always did.

But as he moved around the room, gathering his clothes and getting dressed, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought that he wasn’t ready for it to be over. Not yet. He noticed a small piece of paper on the nightstand, folded neatly. Sid’s heart skipped a beat as he reached for it, unfolding it to reveal a short, handwritten note.

“Thanks for the night. Let’s keep it uncomplicated :) -Y/N”

Sidney stared at the note for a long moment,the words echoing in his mind. “Uncomplicated.” That’s what you wanted, what you had both agreed to. But now as he read your words, he couldn’t help but feel that things were far more complicated than either of you had anticipated. As he stood there, staring at the note, he knew you had left a mark on him, one that he couldn’t easily erase. The memory of you, of the way you had looked at him with those challenging eyes, would stay with him. Whether he liked it or not, you had gotten under his skin.

With a sigh, he tucked the note into his pocket, trying to push the thought from his mind. You were gone, and that was supposed to be the end of it. But deep down, Sidney hoped this wasn’t over. There was something between you, something that couldn’t be so easily dismissed. But he had a life to get back to, a routine that didn’t include him moping over women who left before dawn.

And as he left the room, closing the door behind him, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever see you again. And if he did, what the hell he would do about it.

#sidney crosby #pittsburgh penguins #sidney crosby fic #sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby smut #smut #nhl #nhl players #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey #hockey rpf #one shot #hockey smut

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behoright · 2 years ago

Text

ultraviolet disguise l s. crosby

don’t be so naive / you know that you are all I see

summary: Sid makes you apologize after you give him attitude all night.

wordcount: i literally don’t know how to word count on my iPad please someone tell me I swear it’s not too long maybe 4k

song: tonight you are mine - the technicolors

warnings: minors dni! Contains a whole lot of cursing and smut. Quite degrading and rough as well, so please read at your own discretion.

a/n: plotless, plotless smut. poor proofreading lol. When I say I would let this man do anything to me, I mean it. Feel free to fill my inbox with your thots. Love you always.

(＞。☆) ✒️ ˚‧ ⌗ ⌗ ⌗ ⺌

“Where is she?”

“Can someone go find her?”

Your group of friends was currently shivering on the sidewalk, in the Nova Scotia winter, as they drunkenly waited for their rides to take them home. All necessary interactions exchanged, and many waiting to happen behind closed doors, only a couple of people were sober enough to round up everyone and finally call it a night.

Sidney being one of them, noticed instantly they had left you behind.

In all honesty, he was cranky and tired, the frustration having built up from babysitting a bunch of wasted people.

“Isn’t she a grown ass woman or whatever. She can figure it out on her own.” someone slurred.

“Alright, I’m not missing our Uber because of this.” Sidney said, making his way back inside the bar with a huff. No one was coherent enough to go back in there anyways.

The place was packed, people happily mingling at every corner; thankfully, Sid had a great height advantage to almost everyone, so was able to spot you effortlessly through the chattering crowd.

As he walked over to you, thoughts and memories of the messiness that constituted your friendship plagued him, his heart quickening pace inside him.

“Are you done or what?” he spoke loudly above the music and chaos.

“Almost.” you said as you barely turned around to acknowledge him.

“Everyone’s waiting for you, let’s go.” He replied impatiently.

“I’m waiting for this guy to gi-”

“I really don’t care. We’re leaving.” he said, strictly, inching his body towards you and the exit.

Sidney used his physical edge to push you through the crowd, hurrying you with his haste steps right behind you.

“I don’t need you to do this, you know? I’m an adult.” you hissed as you kept walking.

“Well, then maybe start acting like one.”

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” you exclaimed, turning around and bumping into his chest. Despite your size difference, Sidney felt like he ran into a brick wall.

He sighed, grabbing your arm harshly and pulling you into the nearby bathroom.

“What is your problem?” he said, raising his voice while locking the door behind him.

No one was going to use the bathroom until he figured out where your attitude was coming from.

“I haven’t done anything to you, Sidney.” you muttered.

“Oh yeah? You’ve been acting like a bitch the whole night.”

“Woah. What would the press say about hometown superstar Sidney Crosby using this kinda language?” you snickered, crossing your arms.

“Why are you being so… mean?” Sidney’s eyes narrowed at you.

“What are you talking about?”

“Just, fucking, pushing me away all night, like I don’t even exist.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t kiss your ass like everyone around here does.” you said, rolling your eyes.

“That’s NOT what it is and you know it.” he yapped.

“I thought you said I needed to stay away from you. I’m too young or whatever.”

Sidney hadn’t rejected you per se, but at that moment, you both recalled the conversation from a while ago.

The conversation that was supposed to put all flirting to a half.

From both of you.

Supposed to.

“It’s not only that, Y/N. You’re Mike’s niece, it’s not right.” he replied, running his hands through his dark hair.

“Fine! Then why are you so mad when I ignore you?” you prompted, throwing your hands up.

“Not only did you mostly ignore me, you, were fucking rude the rest of the time, and I mean, you’re obviously so fucking desperate too.” Sidney almost word vomited, clearly ignoring most of what you said.

“How, Sidney? Literally, how?”

“I mean, look at what you’re wearing!”

“I meant how was I rude.” you said, making him blush at the miscommunication, too embarrassed to even respond. “Why are you worried about my dress so much?” you teased.

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking annoying.”

You knew what this was.

Like a child, throwing a tantrum to get their mother’s attention, basically.

It was obvious to you that bowing down to his ridiculous comments wasn’t an option.

Not yet.

“You like it?” you said, running your hands down the cheap fabric that sat tightly against your body.

“No, I did not say that. I don’t like it.” he muttered, slightly looking away from you.

There was something quite entertaining about rendering a huge, masculine man down to this blubbering of a mess.

“Why not? Is it too slutty for you?” you laughed.

Sidney’s eyes were burning into you, now quite differently than before, as he turned his attention back to you fully.

Nevertheless, he remained silent.

“You holding back, Sid? Why? You don’t want to call me a slut to my face?”

“I would never do that.” he hit back, his low voice echoing in the tiled bathroom.

Looking out of the small window for a second, you sighed. It was too late, and everyone was waiting anyways.

Perhaps tonight you’d throw in the towel. He obviously already had.

“Whatever. We need to go anyways.” you said, walking towards the door.

“No, we’re not leaving until I get an apology from you.” he hit back, positioning himself between you and the exit.

Or… maybe he hadn’t, you thought, seeing that spark still in his voice.

“Good fucking luck with that.” you laughed.

“Just say you’re sorry.”

“I should be asking for the same thing, I mean, you’ve been pretty rude.”

“Because you were rude first!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms up.

“Do you hear yourself? I thought you were the “real” adult here.” you snickered.

He took a step closer just to have you take a step back.

There was no conceding tonight, actually.

He wasn’t getting any apology out of you anytime soon, and the more you stood your ground, the heavier his chest began to heave.

Unbeknownst to him, you knew Sidney perhaps too well.

He was simply too easy to read, always hiding under the hockey personality facade.

It might have fooled anyone else, especially, any other girl, but not you.

Throughout the months you had spent together, it had been incredibly simple to get to know him.

It was only after he distanced himself away from you that you decided to press his buttons.

He fell for it each time, his impulsiveness and real, undercover feelings exposing him and failing your tests constantly.

“You’re really, really pushing it tonight, Y/N.” he muttered.

“Fuck if I care.” you said, raising your shoulders.

Poor Sid, you thought, such masochistic tendencies he had.

If he could only burst his media trained bubble for a second, you could’ve had fun with that together.

“Fucking say sorry.” he repeated, once again.

He was slowly beginning to unravel, his feelings showing clearly through the tense muscles of his body language.

“Or what, Sidney?”

“God, you’re such a fucking brat.” he said, raising his voice, louder than ever before.

“Oh, there he is. Finally, you’re saying what you really think.” you smiled sweetly at him.

“You’re so fucking spoiled, it’s driving me insane.” he said, keeping the slow walk going towards you.

“Keep going, Sid, you’re just making this more enjoyable for me.”

“Yeah, of course this kinda of shit turns you on.”

“You’re one to talk.” you say, flicking your eyes down at the noticeable bulge in Sidney’s pants.

“We’re at a club, Y/N. Not everything is about you.” he said, rolling his eyes and yet attempting to close the space between you two.

“Then why are you here with me?”

“Because you won’t listen to me!” he exclaimed, his legs still moving towards you. “Is this what i have to do to get you to listen?”

“…Yes.” you whispered, and Sidney felt like he finally was starting to break you down.

“Drop the act, Y/N. Tell me what’s going on.” he sighed.

By now, Sidney had covered all the space in the bathroom, and found himself face to face with you against the wall, your fiery eyes looking up at him.

You had walked around in circles enough with him, literally and figuratively.

“If I could spit in your face I fucking would.” you said roughly, your eyes stuck inside his chocolate eyes.

“Do it, then.” he said, his face tilted down towards yours.

“Enough, Sidney.”

The smirk that you had so proudly sported all this time was long gone, Sid building up enough courage to now talk back to you.

“I thought you wanted to? Do it, then. Spit in my face.” he encouraged, smugly.

“You fucking wish.” you said, pushing against him with your chest.

“Woah, woah, calm down, now.” he chuckled, his fingers wrapping around your arms to keep you against the cold tiles of the bathroom.

You couldn’t hide the way his touch made you feel - you had dreamed to be in his hands for a while, and feeling him now just made you wetter.

Unfortunately for you, he noticed right away, his expression morphing into puzzlement as he took you in.

“Look at you. You like this, don’t you?” he asked, incredulous.

“Never in a million years.”

“Then what is this?”

Sidney’s eyes flickered down to your breasts, the hard nipples poking through your dress instantly giving you away.

“It’s cold, Sid.”

“I don’t know, your skin feels pretty warm under my hands.” he raised him eyebrows, moving his hands slightly up and down.

Plan foiled.

“Is this what this is all about?” he questioned, but you kept your lips zipped in frustration.

Sidney took an impossible step forward, your chests coming in contact.

“If I touch you down here, Y/N, what will I find?” he asked, trailing his fingers down your left arm gently.

“I don’t know, maybe if you ever fucked a girl before you’d know.”

“That’s a good one, baby.” he laughed. He couldn’t help it, seeing you so feisty just… for him.

That was all you wanted, apparently.

He kept his eyes locked onto yours, looking for approval as he lingered his fingers in front of your sex. As he got what he needed, he wasted no time in moving your underwear to the side.

“That’s what it is. You’re just dying to get fucked right.”

Sidney whispered a heavenly oh my god as his calloused, thick fingers rubbed your folds.

“Did raising my voice make you feel all hot inside?” he asked.

“No.”

“You’re fucking soaking my fingers, Y/N. Quit lying.”

He knew he could stretch you out immensely just by using a couple of his digits; but he decided not to, taking his touch just to your entrance and circling your clit, with no added pressure, making your head painfully fall back.

“I’m barely touching you and you’re already moaning. You’re so desperate, aren’t you?” he coaxed.

No witty come back spewed out of your mouth, the slight relief and building anticipation of indulgence growing deeper within you.

“You really want to be put in your place, huh? That’s all you want?”

His touch had you at a loss for words; you could barely nod in between needy whines.

“Stroke my cock, c’mon.” he said, his voice husky as ever, as he placed your hand on top of the swollen erection that was poking through his dress pants.

It was becoming hard to focus, hard to touch him right, Sidney refusing to dip his fingers at any point inside you, instead just painfully teasing you.

“Oh, you just think I’m going to fuck you like that?” he asked, dropping his hands away from you.

“Fuck no. Work for it.” he said aggressively. “Get on your knees.”

Your knees found the floor promptly, betraying your will but getting a satisfied smirk out of him.

“Look how obedient you’re being now, huh?” Sidney said, his fingers fastly undoing his pants in front of you. “Open up, baby. Let me see your tongue.”

Sidney slapped his cock on your tongue a couple of times before thrusting inside your mouth, not giving you a chance at any action but to wrap your lips around his girthy cock instantaneously, moaning in satisfaction.

“Holy fuck.” he moaned, letting his head lull forward with his bottom lip secured under his teeth. “This is what I have to do, isn’t it? I have to treat you like this, for you to-, to-, fuck, oh my god.”

You pulled Sidney’s length into your throat, your muscles tightening in a gag around his thick head, mostly in order to break him further and to stop his gloating.

“God, where did you learn how to do that, fuck.” he groaned deeply, lacing his fingers in your hair, instinctively massaging your scalp sweetly.

“You’re so much nicer when you’re choking on my dick like this.” he continued, his thighs tightening and clenching under your hands as you bobbed your head on him, thick saliva building at the back of your throat as you somehow devoured him more and more.

If he was holding back any moaning, it was hard to tell, his abs visibly clenching whenever you took him deeper and he, consequently, moaned louder.

“This is a good, good way to say sorry, baby.” he growled, his head thrown back, but stopping your motions right away.

“I’m not saying sorry, Sidney.” you said, pulling away from his cock so quickly that you were left with a trail of spit connecting you back to his glistening head.

He felt his chest fill with anger and lust, desire.

All he wanted to do was take you home and fuck you until you couldn’t talk back to him any longer. He instinctively wrapped his fist tightly around your hair, pulling you up by your locks.

“Look how messy you are.” he muttered as you came to your feet, his big eyes trailing over your shimmering chin, dripping in spit and precum. “Come here.”

Sidney shoved his tongue inside you, placing his other hand around your throat gently. He loved to keep your head steady as he overwhelmed your mouth, running his tongue over yours with no rhythm or caution, simply taking whatever he wanted.

“I guess I just have to fuck this attitude out of you.” he said against your lips as he pulled away breathless. “Face the fucking wall.”

As he turned you around, you did your best to hide the huge smirk on your face. He was finally going to give you what you both so desperately wanted; despite what he said, Sidney’s actions had always proved different than his words.

He hated that he had such a hard time resisting you, that he spent his night thinking about you with his cock throbbing in his hand, but he couldn’t wait anymore.

The rubber band had finally snapped.

Sidney squeezed your ass, your silky flesh crinkling in exquisite pain through your thin dress. He kept marking you with his fingertips as his other hand roughly pulled down your minuscule underwear, letting it trickle down your legs as he directed your ass towards him.

He tried to keep his composure as he pulled your dress up, the traces of his fingernails on your skin illuminated by the small ray of the street lamp that came through the high bathroom window.

It was hitting you perfectly, actually, so much so that he could see the glob of your wetness leaking out of your entrance, your pussy angled perfectly towards him.

“I would tell you how pretty you look like this but you don’t deserve it.” he spit out, beginning to stroke his member up and down your slit.

“You’re so fucking needy for me. I can’t believe how wet you are, God.”

Without warning, Sidney filled you up completely, ripping a gasp out of you as he gave you no time to adjust. His size made it hard to breathe or even keep your legs from wobbling already.

“Yeah, you’re not used to taking big cocks like this, aren’t you.” he questioned, readjusting the grip in your hair once again. “Well, you’re going to tonight.”

He began to fuck you, almost savagely, every mouthwatering plunge hitting your cervix and stretching you to your max. Sidney grunted deeply every time he moved. He knew that as much as he tried to keep it together, you could see the cracks within him, giving into you. But he knew he couldn’t back down without teaching you a lesson.

“Say sorry.” he groaned in your ear, but all he got in response were sweet moans.

Frustrated, Sidney picked up the pace, slamming himself harder against you and inside you. Your body rebounded against the wall harder every time, an aching starting to cover every inch of your skin, seeping within you and mixing with the unrelenting desire that he was sending through your being.

Whenever he wanted, Sid would move his right hand, squeezing and grabbing any bit of you that pleased him.

He was big enough to have access to your every part.

The back of your thigh, or the side of your tummy were covered in his fingertips, flecks of his rough handling beginning to dot all over you.

Your nipples oversensitized, having been rubbed against the freezing tiles through the fabric of your dress were the only sensation cooling you down as he kept increasing his rhythm, his heart pounding heavily against your back.

“Yeah, I bet that feels good, doesn’t it?” he said, tilting your head so he could see you. “Look at those pretty eyes rolling back. Fuck.”

The sounds that filled up the room were filthy, he thought.

Sidney felt primal, taking you in the bathroom of a sleazy bar, not because he had let himself go, but because it pleased him to put you in your place.

The buckle of his bell dinging against his pants as he sped up.

His heavy breathing fusing with your candied moans, reverberating against the empty stalls.

The squelching of your bodies united, drops of want and longing and frustration running down both of your legs, splattering against the ground or soaking his pubic hair - it was so dirty and out of character for him.

Only you drove him to this.

Knowing that he was the only one that could hear this, all of it being covered by the muffled sounds of the raging bar outside, made him grip your hair a little tighter each time he focused on it.

This was the closest he had ever been to your face. Underneath the light sheen of makeup, he could see your skin turning a deeper shade of red; those big and thick lashes he loved so much batting irregularly. He noticed you wanted to regulate your response to him, attempting stupidly to keep your pupils focused on him instead of oscillating to the back of your head once again.

But he could see right through you.

He could see you struggle, with your telling high pitched moans, trembling underneath his touch.

It exasperated him. Delightfully.

“You want to cum so badly, don’t you? Yeah?” he asked, almost mockingly.

You nodded, the pull from his hand making the roots of your hair sting more and more, pulling your face in such a pathetic way that kept Sid’s cock covered in wetness.

“Too fucking bad. You don’t get to until you apologize.” he barked, pressing your heating cheek against the wall.

Your defiance was obvious; you decided to keep this little game going a while longer, considering it made him so mad and delirious, pushing his pelvis so forcibly against you that your ass bounced audibly on him.

“Apologize. Be good, c’mon.” he uttered in your ear, doing his best at holding back his groans as he slowed his thrusts down.

Playing was for two people, after all, and he knew the change of pace would be what you despised the most. It was immediately evident, groans of desperation pouring out of you.

Still, you could see stars of pleasure as you squeezed your eyes tightly in anguish.

“Now, Y/N.” he demanded, a hand coming down to spank you harshly.

If it was up to him, he would have kept this going forever.

He had thought about a million ways to punish you throughout the whole night.

You were lucky he only had a public bathroom available at the moment.

He could feel you on the verge of breaking, both in the cracks of your voice, the fact that you were pushing back at him slightly, your body looking for more, and of course, your cunt clamping firmly on his cock through the wetness. He made the decision to keep the thought to himself as an attempt to keep you as tamed as he had you at the moment.

All he needed was to slow down even more.

As adorable as your squeals were, and as much as they made his dick twitch noticeably inside you, he wasn’t going to let up.

“I’m sorry, Sid.”

Eureka.

For once, Sidney had the upper hand. He made you putty in his hands and you equally knew it.

“Good job.” he said, fucking you roughly again.

He went back up to max, tightening his jaw as your pussy sent waves of toe curling pleasure down his cock. He was leaking inside you, precum spilling all over and painting your insides.

“I’m so sorry, Sidney, I’m sorry.” you repeated, his eyes on your face.

“That’s okay, baby. Just once was good, love. You’re so good. So good.” he said placing his lips against your cheek.

The act of tenderness made you quiver.

If you had let up once, you could finally fully let go.

You could feel his pupils dilating in lust as your mouth was stuck open, blaring your sobs and cries as your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks.

Ceaseless in his fucking, he seemed to thrust harder as he got closer too.

Sidney refrained from rubbing your clit. He wanted to, yet this was still a punishment.

“Atta girl.” he coaxed. “Keep coming for me, baby. Can you do that?”

You nodded dumbstruck, your eyes crossing deplorably as you kept shaking in bliss.

Sidney was focused on you; he noticed a silver thread of spit leave your bottom lip, your face still roughly pushed against the wall with his force, and he lost it.

“I need to cum, baby, I’m going to cum inside you, fuck.” he hastily groaned.

He growled deeply, thrusting all the way inside you and grinding into his orgasm as his cock let out hot cum within you.

“Fuck, baby, fuck.” his growls were deafening, numbing you and traveling throughout the stuffy air.

As you came down, you could feel him spasming yet inside you, his face still furrowed in a heated sweat - he had bottomed out inside ou, his strong pelvis lifting you a couple of inches off the ground, levitating under his gratification.

Soreness began to overtake you as the pleasure let down, all of Sidney’s muscles relaxing into you with a sigh; your heels clicked as he let you back off the wall slightly, pulling his cock out of you as he was still huffing.

The pain hurt so good for you both, breathing against each other as you tried to catch your breath at the same time.

“Look at me.” he said, turning you around so quickly you could have lost your balance, especially after he fucked you like that. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Seeing his usual sweetness come back made your heart swell, a smile growing on your face.

“I’m okay, Sid.” you said, biting your lip shyly.

“Now, what we’re going to do is…” he began after kissing your forehead, bending down to pull your underwear up, “put these on, keep my cum inside you, okay? Like a good girl, yeah, while we go out and grab a ride to my place. Yeah?”

You nodded, aroused that he wanted to keep this going.

“Good job.” Sidney placed his hand on your lower back, walking you to the door. “I’m not done with you yet.”

#sidney crosby #sidney crosby fic #sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby smut #smut #nhl imagines #nhl #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl fic #pittsburgh penguins #hockey #hockey rpf #Sidney Crosby rpf #rpf #one shot #hockey smut #kikiwrites

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holy-puckslibrary · 8 months ago

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just a lil firefighter!sid fluff for y'all :)

gif from @ehghtysevenarchive + per this ask and others

Surely, the chief of Canada's oldest fire department has more important things to do on a crisp morning, the last one preceding a fresh week, than this. He most definitely does. And, yes, Chief Crosby is known for his pragmatic approach to, well, everything.

But neither carries weight here—not when she calls.

Leaky faucet, dead car battery, unreachable spider... It doesn't matter. One ring, and he's rushing home. He can't pin-point when the pattern began, likely sometime shortly between the day you moved into town and his first off-day, but it's a routine he's come to enjoy despite the extra strain on both his schedule and his body; Sidney never thought sharing a property line could be so tedious or time-consuming.

He knows he shouldn't enjoy the distraction as much as he does. You aren't together, Sidney doesn't ever allow his imagination wander that far, but he can't help it. He can't help but help. He rarely turns down anyone in need, which has done wonders for his reputation within the community, but with you... With you, it's different, and embarrassingly so.

He doesn't have the words to explain it. Not that he needs to, it's written plainly across his face.

There's a reason you're regular fixtures in the town's gossip column.

When he arrives on scene—not ten minutes after his F-Series crawled down the gravel drive—Sidney shakes his head and laughs. Collecting his cell and his radio, he slips out of the truck, watching as you fret like a mother hen.

Still in your slippers, you're stood at the base of a decently-sized red spruce wedged between his yard and yours, your crumpled face angled up into the yellow-green needles. You're the very picture of worry, wringing your trembling hands and muttering to yourself.

A stray kitten caught in a tree, that's what's got you in a such a state.

"Well, this is a new one," he bellows in lieu of a greeting, slamming the door shut as his boots hit the ground.

Briefly, your glassy eyes dart in his direction. You're midway through your customary apology when he arrives at your side and quiets you, just as he always does.

"They're more than capable of holding down the fort for however long it takes to rescue our new friend, okay?"

"I know, but what if—"

"But nothing," Sidney huffs, and he dares to take you by the shoulders. And, externally, he ignores the way you shiver under his palms. "If I didn't think it was safe for me to step out for a couple of minutes, I wouldn't. You believe me, right?"

You nod, bottom lip pinched between your teeth.

"Good. Now, how 'bout you keep an ear on this," Sidney sets the clunky satellite radio in your hand, "—and I'll grab the ladder from the shed?"

He doesn't really need your help monitoring the channel, but he knows you'll feel better if you feel like you're doing something. Like him, you find comfort in your utility.

In less than a minute, Sidney re-emerges, rounding the corner with a ladder in hand. You're in the same spot, now fidgeting with the radio, anxiously dumping it from one palm to the other and back again. He follows your gaze to line up the simple equipment necessary for the rescue operation.

Sidney's heart swells as you quietly step forward to spot him.

Lucky for everyone, the ball of orange fur is on the branch nearest to the ground. Sidney needs only to step up onto the first wrung to safetly coax the frightened creature into his waiting hands, he's back on the ground not long after.

He gives the kitten a gentle parting scratch under the chin, then transfers the purring fluff to you. The soft bundle takes to you immediately, nuzzling into your chest like that's where it wanted to be all along.

"I think he likes you," Sidney observes with a cheek-numbing grin.

Your lips are tipped up at the end and there's fan of happiness rooting itself around your eyes. Your mouth opens to reply, but before the words come—

"Well, would you look at this?"

Across the quiet street and a few houses to the left sits an audience of two. Both of which are now cooing as loudly as two ladies in their sixties can manage. Coffee cups in one hand and their cellphones propped up in the other, they fawn over the two of you as if it's live theater.

Sidney curses their sons, who he'd completed the explorer program with as teens, for enabling this technological torture.

"Smile, you two! Oh, Denise is just going to eat this up," one of them, a spitfire in a 4'11 frame by the name of Mrs. Bouchard, exclaims to her co-conspirator, Ms. Johnston.

Then, to no one's surprise and Sid's chagrin, they giddily type out their respective messages to the local paper's equally-nosy editor-in-chief.

"Looks like we're front-page news again," you hum bashfully.

The tabby mewls in your arms. You curl into the little bundle of fur, lips landing between its delicate ears.

Sid studies you in his periphery as he slips in and out of heady contemplation, ultimately deciding he doesn't mind as much as he once did. "That we are..."

—

eek! wait, why do i luv them already 🥹

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

READ MORE OF THEM HERE!

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harlowhockeystick · 4 months ago

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i'm a little wine drunk. thinking ab being wine drunk with your man.

when you're tipsy to the point where you get giggly and handsy. he loves it, he's all for it. this is his favorite stage of you being drunk. one more drink then you get really flirty, another drink after that you get aggressive, then one more drink and you can't stand up. so right before shit hits the fan, he's all for it. he loves when you slide a hand over his chest through his button shirt, he loves when you run your hands through his hair making it look like post sex hair, messing up the gel he put in an hour previous. oh, he also loves when you give him a sloppy kiss right after taking a big swig of your drink. he can taste the tequila mixed with lime on your tongue, then he has to put his hands firmly on your hips to get you to slow down and take a breath. he loves when you're still tipsy that he can still have a conversation, because he knows realistically he has about ten minutes before he's having to follow you around making sure you're not picking up someone else's drink. he loves when you're tipsy.

#txt.#j's writing #sidney crosby x reader #frederik andersen x reader #nathan mackinnon x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #rafe cameron x reader #brock boeser x reader #nhl imagine #the bear imagine #william nylander x reader

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goldfades · 1 month ago

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𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒, 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐅𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 / 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 / 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈❜𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐄 / 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ─ SC⁸⁷

TRACK 12 ─── LOML

TTPD CELLY MASTERLIST !

౨ৎ ─ summary | caught in a cycle of love and heartbreak, you find yourself constantly returning to sidney crosby, the one person who promises everything but never follows through. as the years pass and the same promises echo between you, you’re left questioning if holding on is worth more than letting go

─ word count | 6.3k

─ warnings | ANGST ANGST ANGST, oh my god i teared up writing this (im on my period shut up). a rollercoaster of emotions, young love -> soulmate kinda vibe. on and off, just overall angsty (with no happy ending... its ttpd, what do u expect?) idk what else to add but like... if u need a good cry, read this

The night is colder than you remember, and the city lights are muted, softening the edges of every memory you have of this place. Pittsburgh’s skyline blurs through the frost on your windshield, each bright glow fading into the next as you pull into the parking lot of a bar you used to know so well. It’s different now—a new name, new sign, but the same chime of the bell when you push through the door, like a greeting from the past.

You used to come here all the time, back when the two of you were something. Not official, not permanent—never those things—but something more than a fling and less than a promise. He used to sit right there, at the corner booth, baseball cap pulled low and face half-hidden, and you’d slide in next to him like you belonged there. Because, for a while, you thought you did.

But now you stand there, scanning the faces, waiting to see if he’ll show. The text he sent still hangs heavy in your mind, words you could almost memorize by heart: Can we talk? I miss you. It’s always like this—a cycle you’ve danced for longer than you’d care to admit. He always says the right things, words that feel like they could anchor you in the storm of his life, but it’s always just a promise, never reality.

And that’s what scares you most.

Because this time, you don’t know if you’ll fall for it again.

───

It was summer, and everything was golden.

The sun filtered through the trees, casting shadows that danced along the edges of the makeshift hockey rink. You remember the smell of freshly cut grass, the distant hum of cicadas, and the way the air buzzed with a warmth that clung to your skin. You were barely a teenager, and the world felt infinite, stretched out before you like the blue sky above. It was one of those summer afternoons when the days felt endless and you thought you had all the time in the world.

The rink wasn’t anything special—just a patch of concrete nestled in the middle of the park, surrounded by chain-link fences and littered with the scuffs and scratches of a hundred other games. But for you, it was everything. Your brother had dragged you along, promising it would be “cool” and that the guys he played with wouldn’t care that you tagged along. You’d insisted on wearing his old jersey, the one that hung loose over your frame and brushed against your knees when you walked. It smelled faintly like sweat and summer afternoons, and even though it was too big, you wore it like armor.

He was already there when you arrived, leaning casually against the boards with his stick resting on his shoulder. He wore a backwards cap that made him look like an absolute douche, but you could still see the way his grin spread wide when he laughed. He was tall, at least compared to the other boys, and he had this presence about him—like he knew exactly where he belonged, and it was right there on that concrete. He radiated this easy confidence, the kind that made people naturally gravitate toward him, and you found yourself watching him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

“Hey, kid, you play?” he called out as your brother introduced you to the group. His voice was light, teasing, but there was something in it that made you straighten your shoulders, determined to prove you weren’t just some tag-along.

You lifted your chin, clutching your stick a little tighter. “Yeah, I do.”

A laugh rippled through the group, and he tilted his head, an eyebrow raised in a way that seemed to dare you. “Alright, show me.”

You skated out onto the concrete, feeling the rough texture beneath your sneakers, the familiar push and glide that came as natural as breathing. You could feel the eyes on you, the judgment, the expectation that you’d stumble or falter.

But you didn’t.

You skated like you always did—like you had something to prove, even when no one was watching. You could feel the summer breeze tugging at your hair, could hear the sounds of sticks clashing, wheels spinning, and the distant shouts of kids playing in the park. The world faded into a blur of movement and sound, and for a moment, it was just you and the puck, gliding across the concrete.

When you stopped, stick planted firmly, the puck resting right where you aimed, you turned to face him. His grin had shifted into something softer, something that looked like approval. He nodded, a small movement that somehow felt like a victory, like you’d passed some unspoken test.

“You’re pretty good,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m Sidney.”

You told him your name, trying to play it cool, but there was something about the way he looked at you, something that made your heart beat a little faster. You brushed it off—he was just another kid, another boy who thought he ruled the rink. But when he passed you the puck during the game, when he skated close enough that you could hear his breath, quick and heavy, you felt something shift, like the start of a story you hadn’t planned on telling.

The hours blurred together, the sun sinking lower as the sky melted into hues of orange and pink. You played until your legs ached and your cheeks hurt from smiling. He was quick, his movements sharp and precise, but he had this way of gliding past the others like he was weightless, like he’d been born on skates. And every time he sent the puck your way, you felt that rush again, that thrill of being seen, of being chosen.

At one point, when you stopped to catch your breath, he skated up beside you, close enough that you could see the way the sunlight caught in his eyes. “You should come out more often,” he said, a smile playing at the edge of his lips. “We could use someone like you.”

You shrugged, pretending like you hadn’t already made up your mind. “Maybe.”

But deep down, you knew you’d come back.

And when he grinned, that slow, easy grin that made you feel like you were sharing a secret, you realized that maybe this was the start of something. Something that felt like endless summer days and the thrill of chasing after something just out of reach.

He was only a boy then, and you were only a girl with skates too big for your feet and dreams too big for your chest. But that was the thing about summer—everything felt possible. And standing there, the light catching in his hair and the warmth of his presence radiating like a sunbeam, you felt like you’d met someone who could make it all come true.

The years rolled on like they always do, slow and steady until you looked back and realized how quickly time had slipped by. What started as childhood games on concrete rinks and sticky summer nights turned into something deeper, something that felt like it could last forever.

When you were sixteen, things shifted. You’d always been friends, maybe even best friends. By then, he was already “Sid the Kid,” the local legend whose name was whispered with reverence around the rinks. But to you, he was just Sidney—the same boy who laughed with you when you scored, who always had an extra stick in his bag just in case, who stayed up late with you, lying on the cool grass, tracing constellations with his finger.

Somewhere between the late-night talks and the secret smiles, friendship turned into something more. It wasn’t a single moment; it was a thousand little ones, each building on the next until you both looked up and realized you weren’t just kids playing pretend anymore.

The first time he kissed you, it was right before his first big tournament. You’d been nervous for him, more nervous than he seemed to be. You’d walked down to the empty rink at dusk, the air cool and the sky the color of fading ink. You remember how his hand felt, warm and solid as it slipped into yours, and how he turned to you, eyes bright with something you hadn’t seen before. The kiss was tentative, like he was testing the waters, but it felt like fireworks, a spark in the night that you carried with you long after you pulled away.

From then on, you were something more—together but not quite official. You tried not to think about it too much, content with what you had. You showed up at every game, standing in the crowd with his number on your back, feeling that thrill when he’d glance your way. You’d spend the evenings together, sometimes in the rink, sometimes out by the water, stealing moments in between practices and tournaments. For a while, it was perfect.

Then, life happened.

He got drafted, and everything changed. He moved to Pittsburgh, and suddenly the boy who was always around, who could text or call at any hour, was miles away, caught up in a whirlwind of cameras, contracts, and the pressures of professional hockey. You were still in high school then, watching him from afar, cheering him on from a distance. You told yourself it was fine, that the distance didn’t matter, and that you were both still too young to worry about anything more than the present.

But even then, you could feel the space between you growing.

In his rookie year, you made the decision to move to Pittsburgh. You’d gotten into a college nearby, and when you called to tell him, he was ecstatic. You’d never forget the way his voice sounded on the phone—relieved, almost. Like he’d been waiting for you, hoping you’d make the leap. And so you did. You left your friends, your family, everything familiar to be closer to him. It felt like a grand, romantic gesture—the kind you saw in movies. But in the back of your mind, you knew it was more than that.

The first year was a whirlwind. You were in the stands for his games, holding your breath every time he took a shot, cheering louder than anyone when he scored. Off the ice, it felt like the two of you were creating a life together, slowly but surely. You moved in together, and even though his schedule was insane—practices, games, interviews—there were still those quiet moments.

Mornings when you’d wake up to him already gone, but with a note on the counter that read, I’ll be back soon. Evenings when he’d come home exhausted but would pull you into his arms like nothing else in the world mattered. It was enough, more than enough.

Until it wasn’t.

Somewhere along the way, the cracks started to show. At first, it was small things—missed dinners, texts that went unanswered because he was “caught up in meetings.” Then, the fights started. You’d ask him about the future—where were you going, what were you to each other? He’d dodge the questions, promising you that things would be easier once the season was over, once the next championship was done, once his contract was sorted out.

You tried to believe him, tried to convince yourself that you were both still young, that you had time. But every time you saw him, it felt like you were grasping at something that was always just slipping out of reach.

The first breakup came after his rookie season. You’d been together for two years, and you could feel the weight of it pressing down on you, the uncertainty, the feeling that maybe you’d given up too much, too soon. You remember standing in the doorway, watching him lace up his skates, and asking, for the first time, why you weren’t moving forward. He looked at you, eyes soft but distant, and said he didn’t know. That maybe things were moving too fast. You didn’t yell, didn’t cry. You just nodded, kissed him one last time, and left.

It was the first time you thought that maybe he wasn’t ready to be with you the way you needed him to be. But it wasn’t the last.

Over the next few years, it was the same dance—back and forth, the two of you pulled together by some invisible force that neither of you could name, only to be pushed apart by the same old arguments, the same doubts.

Each time you broke up, it felt like the end.

You’d tell yourself that this time, it was really over. You’d pack your things, move out, and try to rebuild your life. But then, he’d call. Sometimes it was months later, sometimes just weeks, but it was always the same: I miss you. I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready then, but I am now.

And every time, you believed him.

Maybe it was the way he looked at you, like you were the only person who really knew him, who understood the weight he carried every time he stepped onto the ice. Or maybe it was the promises he’d make when he held you close, whispering that one day he’d put a ring on your finger, that one day you’d have a family together. You told yourself that this time would be different, that you could trust him, that he was finally ready.

But each time, it ended the same way. The season would start, and he’d get caught up again—first in the games, then in the championships, then in the next contract. And you’d find yourself alone, the same questions building up, the same empty promises echoing in your head.

It went on like that for years. You tried dating other people, tried moving on, but it was always temporary. No one else felt like home the way he did, and you hated yourself for it. You’d built your life around someone who couldn’t give you the future he kept promising, and the worst part was, you kept going back.

You remember the last time you walked away. It was after another fight, the same one you’d had a dozen times before. You’d asked him about the future, and he’d given you that same look, the one that told you he was already pulling away. But this time, when he said, I just need time, you didn’t have the strength to believe him. You nodded, the lump in your throat too tight to speak, and left before he could see the tears in your eyes.

And now, you find yourself back where it all started, years later, wondering if he’s changed. If this time, when he said I miss you, it really meant something. But deep down, you already know the answer.

It’s the same as it’s always been.

───

You scan the room, your heart pounding, eyes darting from one face to another, hoping—no, dreading—that you’ll see him. Part of you wants to run, to turn around and pretend you never agreed to meet him. But the other part, the part that still holds on to the memories of you and him when things were easy, when love was simple and uncomplicated, keeps your feet rooted to the floor.

He’s always late, and you’ve learned to hate it. It’s not just a bad habit—it’s a symbol of everything between you two, a reminder that he always has something, or someone, else pulling him in another direction. Every time he tells you he’ll be there, every time you stand waiting, it’s like a countdown until he lets you down again.

You glance down at your phone, the screen lighting up with the time: fifteen minutes past when he said he’d be here. You think about leaving, about saving yourself the heartache. You’ve done this dance so many times before. You know the steps, know the way it’ll play out if you wait long enough. He’ll walk in, breathless and apologetic, and those eyes—God, those eyes—will soften when they find yours. He’ll look at you like you’re the only thing that’s kept him steady in a world that’s always moving too fast.

And you’ll feel your resolve slip, just like it always does.

Your hand tightens around the phone, knuckles turning white as you try to steel yourself against the pull of old memories. You think back to the last time you saw him, to the way he looked at you when you said enough. It had been one of those fights, the ones that started small—something about how he missed dinner again, or how you were the only one trying—and escalated into everything you’d ever bottled up. You told him you were tired of waiting, tired of hearing him say he was ready when all he ever did was prove otherwise.

He’d stood there, silent, watching you with that look—the one that said he was sorry but not enough to change. And you left, thinking that maybe this time, you’d finally meant it. That you could walk away and not look back.

But now, here you are, back in the same place, waiting.

A familiar ache spreads through your chest as the seconds tick by, every moment without him another chance for doubt to creep in. You don’t want to be here, don’t want to be the person who keeps holding out hope when all it ever does is hurt. But despite everything, you can’t help the part of you that still believes. The part that whispers this time could be different, even when you know it won’t be.

Just when you’ve almost convinced yourself to leave, the door swings open. Your breath catches as you spot him, shoulders hunched slightly like he’s unsure of how to approach. He looks older, wearier than you remember, but it’s him. The moment his eyes lock with yours, you feel it—the same rush, the same pull that’s always been there, drawing you back in.

He smiles, that small, tentative smile that used to melt your defenses. It’s like he knows exactly how to walk that line between sincerity and charm, and you hate how well it works. You fight the urge to return it, to let that familiar warmth bloom in your chest, and instead, you keep your expression neutral.

He crosses the room with that unhurried stride, his gaze never leaving yours. When he finally reaches you, he stops, just a foot away, close enough that you can smell the faint hint of his cologne—a scent you’d once known better than your own. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you, like he’s memorizing the way you look right now, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and careful, like he’s testing the waters.

“Hey.” Your response is cool, guarded. You’re not going to make this easy for him, not this time.

He shifts, rubbing the back of his neck—a habit you know means he’s nervous. “I’m sorry I’m late. Got caught up—”

You cut him off, tired of the same excuses. “It’s always something with you, Sid.”

He flinches, and you almost feel guilty. Almost. But then you remember all the times you waited, all the empty promises, and you stand your ground.

“I know,” he says softly. “You’re right.”

The words hang between you, heavy with everything that’s come before. It’s different this time. Usually, he jumps right into the apologies, into telling you how much he missed you, how he’s ready now, how he’s changed. But tonight, he just stands there, the look on his face a mixture of regret and something else you can’t quite read.

And maybe that’s the problem. You’ve never been able to fully read him. You’ve spent years trying, and every time you think you’ve figured him out, he slips away. You wonder if he knows how much it hurts—wonder if he even cares.

“So, what is it this time?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest, your eyes searching his for any sign of what he’s thinking. “Why’d you want to see me?”

He exhales, a slow, deep breath that seems to carry the weight of everything you’ve been through together. “I just—” he starts, then stops, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I miss you.”

You shake your head, the familiar ache settling into your bones. “You always miss me when I’m gone.”

His gaze snaps back to yours, and for a moment, you see something raw in his eyes—something real. “No, I mean it. I’m tired of pretending everything’s okay when it’s not. I’m tired of losing you.”

You want to believe him. You really do. But the words feel like echoes of promises he’s made a hundred times before. And the part of you that’s always been waiting, hoping, feels like it’s hanging by a thread.

“Prove it,” you say, your voice steady even though your heart is racing. “Because I can’t keep doing this, Sid. I can’t keep falling for the same lines.”

He takes a step closer, and for a moment, you feel the pull again—the magnetic force that’s always drawn you back to him, no matter how many times you’ve tried to walk away. You can see the struggle in his eyes, the way he’s fighting to find the right words, and you wonder if maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

But as he reaches for your hand, you can’t help but brace yourself for the familiar sting of disappointment. Because no matter what he says, you know how this story ends.

He glanced down, looking down at the promise ring on your finger. Your ring finger. The same ring he'd given you many years ago, before he left for Pittsburgh. He told you it was just the beginning, a placeholder for something bigger. Something that, back then, felt like a certainty. You remember the way he slipped it on your finger, his hands steady and sure. His eyes shone with the same excitement you felt—like the future was a road you were both eager to walk down together.

“I’ll get you the real thing one day,” he’d promised, his voice brimming with that youthful conviction. “Just wait for me.”

And you did. For years, you wore that ring like a badge of honor, a symbol of everything you believed you were building together. When he left for Pittsburgh, you told yourself it was only temporary. Distance was just another hurdle, and the two of you had overcome so many already. You visited him during breaks, and every time he came home, it felt like picking up right where you left off. You thought nothing could break that bond.

Now, standing in front of him, you can see it in his eyes—that same look he’s always given you when he knows he’s let you down. But there’s a hesitation there, too, a weight he’s carrying that wasn’t there before. You wonder if he’s finally seeing it the way you do—if he’s finally realizing that words and promises are never enough.

He reaches for your hand, his thumb grazing the cool, faded metal of the ring. “I know I’ve said it before, but I—”

You pull your hand back, your chest tightening with all the years of waiting, all the times you’ve heard those same words and let yourself believe them. “Don’t. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

His jaw tenses, and he looks up, his eyes searching yours. “I do mean it,” he says, but there’s a hint of desperation in his voice now. “I know I haven’t been fair to you. I know I’ve asked too much.”

You shake your head, the anger and sadness mixing together until they’re almost indistinguishable. “No, Sidney, you’ve taken too much. You’ve taken years of my life—years I can’t get back.”

He winces, and you can see the hurt flash across his face, but you don’t pull back. You can’t. “I’ve given up everything for you—my job, my plans, my own life—because I believed in this. I believed in us. But every time, you leave. Every time, you break your promise.”

He opens his mouth, but you cut him off before he can speak. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep living my life waiting for a future that’s never going to come.”

There’s a moment of silence between you, and you can see the struggle in his eyes, the way he’s fighting to find the right words—words that you know won’t change anything.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and it feels like the final nail in the coffin. “I know I don’t deserve you. But I’m here now, and I want to make it right.”

You look down at the ring, that small circle of metal that once meant everything to you. It feels heavy now, like a weight dragging you down, a reminder of all the time you’ve spent waiting for something that never happened.

“I can’t wait forever,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need more than just words, Sid.”

For a moment, it looks like he might finally say something real, something that could change everything. But instead, he just stands there, silent, and you feel your heart break a little more. Because you know, deep down, that he doesn’t have an answer. He never has.

“You still wear it,” he spoke slowly, glancing down at the ring. “Doesn't that mean something? Anything? That maybe, maybe we should give this another try?”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his words settle around you like a storm cloud. It’s so typical of him, to latch onto the smallest signs, to twist reality just enough to make it feel like there’s hope. It’s the same hope that’s kept you coming back time and time again, like a moth drawn to the flicker of a flame.

But this time, that flame feels like it’s burning out.

“Sidney, I never stopped loving you,” you admit, and it’s the raw truth, the kind you’ve tried to keep buried for so long. “But love isn’t the problem. It’s everything else. It’s you telling me we have a future and then disappearing when it matters. It’s you making promises you can’t keep.”

He reaches out, fingers curling around your wrist, holding on like he’s afraid you’ll slip away for good. “I’m different now. I’m ready. I know I said that before, but this time—”

“No,” you interrupt, pulling your arm back, the frustration building in your chest. “You’ve said that every time. You tell me you’re ready, that things will be different, and I believe you because I want to believe you. But then the same thing happens—you get busy, the season gets hard, and suddenly I’m on the sidelines again, waiting for you to make time for me.”

His shoulders slump, and he looks down, like he can’t face the truth of his own words. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know I’ve messed up. But I swear, this time—”

“Sid, listen to yourself.” You cross your arms, trying to steady the tremor in your voice. “This time, next time—there’s always a next time. But it’s just a cycle. It always has been. And I don’t know if I can keep believing that things will change when they never do.”

His eyes lock onto yours, and there’s a flash of something you haven’t seen before—fear, maybe, or the realization that you’re slipping away. “But I don’t want to lose you,” he says, his voice breaking. “I can’t lose you.”

For a second, your resolve wavers. You see the boy you fell in love with, the one who used to hold your hand in the stands and tell you he couldn’t imagine his life without you. But the boy grew up, and his dreams took him places you were never a part of, no matter how hard you tried to be.

“You already have, Sid,” you whisper, feeling the ache spread through your chest. “You lost me a long time ago when you chose everything else over us. And I don’t think you even realize it.”

He steps closer, his hand hovering near your face like he’s afraid to touch you, like you’re something fragile that might break. “I’m trying, okay? I’m here now. I’m trying to make it right.”

You close your eyes, fighting the tears threatening to fall. “You always say that. But it’s not about showing up when it’s convenient for you. It’s about showing up when it’s hard, when things aren’t perfect, and proving that I’m more than just an option.”

When you open your eyes, you see the pain on his face, and it almost makes you want to take it all back, to say that you’ll try again, that you’ll believe him just one more time.

But you can’t. Not anymore.

“Tell me what to do,” he pleads, desperation clear in every word. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

But that’s just it. It’s not something you can tell him. It’s something he has to want, something he has to choose—without you holding his hand through it, without you putting your life on pause, waiting for him to catch up.

“I can’t tell you how to love me, Sid,” you say, and it feels like the hardest thing you’ve ever done. “You either do, or you don’t. But I can’t be the one always holding this together. It has to be both of us, or it’s nothing.”

He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he hesitates, and in that silence, you feel everything shift. It’s as if the reality of the situation is finally sinking in for both of you.

“Maybe…” you start, your voice cracking, “maybe this was always going to be the end.”

His face pales, and you see the fear flash through his eyes, but you hold firm. “I can’t keep living in the past, hoping you’ll change. I need more than just words, and if you can’t give me that, then…” You take a deep breath, the weight of the years falling away with each word. “Then maybe we need to let go.”

Sidney’s lips part as if to protest, but then he stops. His hand falls away from yours, and the emptiness between you feels colder than the Pittsburgh winters.

You let out a bitter chuckle as the tears begin to fall. “We could've had a good life together, Sid. Everything you could've wanted. Kids, a nice house and some... some cute dogs,”

It seemed silly to say, but it was the truth. You swallowed as you looked, trying to stifle your incoming sobs. “And it would’ve been ours. Not just mine, or yours—ours.”

The words are raw, cutting through the stillness between you. You can feel the sobs building in your chest, threatening to spill out, but you hold them back, just for a moment longer. “But you never wanted that. Not really. Not enough to make it real.”

Sidney’s face crumples, and he looks like he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. “You always talk about wanting it all—wanting me, wanting the life we could have had, but then you pull away the second it gets too real. And I’m tired, Sid. I’m so damn tired of giving everything to someone who can’t meet me halfway.”

He shifts, taking a hesitant step forward, like he’s testing the waters, his eyes pleading. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want it,” he says, voice rough and cracking. “I just—” He rubs a hand over his face, frustration evident. “I didn’t know how to balance it all. I thought I’d have more time, that we’d figure it out eventually.”

“Eventually?” you repeat, the bitterness seeping through. “Sid, we’ve been at this for years. Years of back and forth, of me waiting for you to choose me. To really choose me. And every time, it’s the same story. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending that things will be different.”

He stands there, shoulders hunched, and you can see the struggle in his eyes. It’s the same look he’s given you countless times before, like he wants so badly to fix things but doesn’t know where to start. It makes your heart ache because you know, deep down, he’s not a bad person. He’s just… lost.

And maybe, you realize, he always will be.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “I just—every time I tried to make things work, it felt like something else came up, and I kept thinking if I waited just a little longer—”

“Then everything would magically fall into place?” you cut in, shaking your head. “Life doesn’t work that way, Sid. Love doesn’t work that way. You can’t keep putting off what you want, what you need, and expect everything to turn out okay in the end.”

He takes another step forward, reaching out like he’s about to pull you in, but you take a step back, needing the distance. “I’m not asking you to be perfect,” you say, the tears finally streaming down your cheeks. “I just needed you to try. To show up. To prove that I was worth fighting for. But it feels like every time I turn around, you’re already halfway out the door.”

His expression falters, and you know he wants to argue, to tell you that it’s different this time, that he’s ready now. But you’ve heard it all before, and the words have lost their meaning.

“I wanted the house,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I wanted the dogs, the kids, all of it. I wanted us, Sidney. And I believed we could have it. But you kept pushing it off, and now… I don’t know if I can keep waiting for something that might never come.”

He reaches out again, and this time, you let him. His hand closes around yours, and it feels both familiar and foreign—like holding on to a memory that’s slipping through your fingers.

“I love you,” he says, and there’s a desperation in his voice that makes your heart clench. “I’ve always loved you.”

You give him a sad smile, knowing that, despite everything, that much is true. “I know,” you say, squeezing his hand one last time before pulling away. “But sometimes, love isn’t enough.”

And as you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the cold, you hope—maybe for the first time—that you’ll be strong enough to let go. Because you know if you don’t, this cycle will only repeat itself. And you can’t keep breaking your own heart for someone who won’t give you the life you’ve always wanted.

That night, you dreamed of the house. The kids, and the dogs and of him. You'd wake up, it would feel like how it did the day you met—warm and safe, like everything in the world had finally fallen into place.

The sun would stream through the windows of that little house you imagined, its golden light wrapping you in the kind of warmth you’d always craved. You’d roll over, and there he’d be, his arm draped lazily over your waist, his eyes still heavy with sleep but soft, so soft, like he was seeing the whole world in you.

The kids would run down the hall, their laughter echoing, filling the space between your shared breaths. You’d rise together, slowly, and there would be no rush, no impending flight or long distance to worry about. Just you, him, and that perfect slowness of a morning spent together. The dogs would bound into the room, tails wagging, and the day would unfold in simple, perfect moments—breakfast at the table, messy hair and pajamas, the feeling of his hand on yours as he refilled your coffee cup.

It would feel right.

And in that dream, it would all make sense—why you’d waited so long, why you’d kept coming back, even when you knew better. Because in that world, in that life, you had everything you’d ever wanted. It was real, and it was whole, and there were no questions, no doubts, no space for the silence that always lingered between you in reality.

But then, you’d wake up.

You’d open your eyes to the quiet, dark room, the emptiness of your side of the bed. There’d be no warm sunlight, no laughter echoing through the halls, no weight of his arm pulling you close. Just the cold, still air of your apartment, the hum of the city outside, and the realization that it was all just a dream—a dream you’d had a thousand times before, and one you knew you’d have again.

And as you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, you’d feel that ache settle in your chest. The one that reminded you that no matter how real it felt, it was only ever going to be a figment of your imagination. Because the truth was, you had to wake up alone.

In that moment, you’d wonder if he ever dreamed of it too—if he ever pictured that life, those mornings, the way you did. If he ever saw a future where he stayed, where he chose you and didn’t let go. But you knew that even if he did, it wasn’t enough. Because while you were left clinging to dreams, he was off living a life that didn’t have room for you in it.

You’d curl back into the blankets, pulling them tight around you, pretending for just one more moment that the warmth was him. That maybe, one day, you’d wake up to the life you’d always imagined, and it wouldn’t slip away like morning mist.

But until then, all you had were the dreams and the memories of a love that almost was—almost, but never quite enough.

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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theywantedplayer · 2 years ago

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Masterslist

NEW MASTERLIST

Smut

All Categories

who i write for

Jamie Draysale

“shit I didn't mean to say that”

Loved so dearly

“Its midnight where the hell were you

obsessed

Doing nothing with you

“my friends are really annoyed about how much I talk about you” “you’re staring”

Sparks fly-Taylor Swift

Thin walls NSFW

Good morning NSFW

Happy Birthday NSFW

"please kiss me" "stay quiet" NSFW

“ it’s okay just breathe” “look at me, please?”

“I’m not leaving”

Trevor zegras

jealousy

“... " " "Wanna make out?" "Sure" “ the second I saw you I couldn't get over how beautiful you were”

“You're kinda cute in this” “only kinda.”"Did you see that?" "You saw that right?"

“someone’s happy to see me” “you bought me flowers?”

Picking fights

he didnt say it

obsessed

“don’t fucking touch what is not yours” “Shh.. I’m here”

“oh hun, i wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard” “you look exhausted”

“first one to make noises loses” NSFW

Just one more NSFW

Moth to a flame NSFW

Long Day NSFW

Auston Matthews

“No, no, please don’t look sad. I can’t handle that.”

“don’t fucking touch what is not yours” NSFW

I only want you

obsessed

I think Your enough

I wouldn’t do that to you” “i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name”

“You take me so well.” “Spread your legs wider.” NSFW

You comfort Austin after they get eliminated in the second round

paparazzi NSFW

“I’ve been in love you for years”

Jack Hughes

This is how you celebrate a win NSFW

“Shh im here”

obsessed

All stars

First time NSFW

Jersey NSFW

Shower sex NSFW

Luke Hughes

“ i love you the way you are, okay? you don’t need to change. ”

High and dry NSFW part 2

Bruises

My boyfriends Brother NSFW

Finally alone NSFW

Drunk

“No, no, please don’t look sad. I can’t handle that.”

Quinn Hughes

“im just trying to help you” “Please, talk to me’’

soft spot

“Baby can you please shut the fuck up”

“do you think I dropped my walls like this for anybody?”

"i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name”NSFW

you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad”“ you’re blushing” “am not”

Submissive quinn NSFW

Flight NSFW

Brock Boeser

andrei kuzmenko

Nico hischier

Captain NSFW

“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard”

Golden gold

“come and sit on my face and i’ll show you how much i missed you” NSFW

obsessed

Fair amount

The purse

Dirty talk NSFW

Little things

HandCuff’s+Blindfold NSFW

Arber Xhekaj

I wanted to see you

Kirby dach

Freezing

Cole caulfield

Feeling lost

“Why isn't he getting up?”

“I’ll never be good enough”“I wish you could see yourself how I see you”

Talking to yourself

“No panties?” NSFW

In every room NSFW

Sidney Crosby

“Will you dance with me? Please, pretty please!”

“I missed you so much” & “ you bought me flowers?”

“i love you the way you are, okay? you don’t need to change.

obsessed

“Don't listen to them” “Because I know you”

“Hey…..be safe” “ you’re not even listening”

Juraj Slafkovsky

“I just wanted to be held for a while”

"everything about you amazes me"

“don’t yell at me in a language i don’t understand!” “please don’t cry, i’m sorry”

Mitch marner

“you’re crying” and “i missed you so much”

“you were crying.” “you’re warm.”

obsessed

Second Chance

“I get so hard when i’m around you“

Needy Mitch NSFW

Carter Hart

Mat Barzal

“You smiled! I saw it, so no denying it.” and “You’re definitely the only person I would do this for.”

andrei svechnikov

Fastest Skater goes to?

“i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name” NSFW

leon draisaitl

“first one to make noises loses”

“come and sit on my face and i’ll show you how much i missed you” NSFW

"so, how much longer do you plan on using me as your personal space heater?"“Please kiss me.”

Jeremy Swayma

“no panties?”“Do you want my fingers?" NSFW

Morning kisses

2K notes · View notes

barzzal · 9 months ago

Text

call me crosby → interlude p.2

pairing: sidney crosby x fem!reader gen. warnings: language and theme, co-parenting, mentions of pregnancy & false miscarriage, sexual/suggestive themes, 18+ ch. warnings: angst, language, swearing, mentions of blood genre: hockey rpf, fluff, angst, kid-fic, exes to lovers length: series; 9.3k masterlist: the barn, series masterlist

note: the interlude is a two-part chapter dedicated for what happened between sidney and reader in the past and why everything had to happen ;) pls pls tread lightly as these chapters contain sensitive themes. you may stop reading at any time should it make you feel uncomfortable. this is just a reminder that you are still responsible for what you consume. all that aside, happy reading <3 (gif used: mine)

Your mind wanders to the not so distant past while you do your night time routine. You blankly stare at yourself absent-mindedly as you lather lotion on your hands and arms.

It’s crazy how madly and deeply in love you and Sidney were a week ago.

You can’t help but reminisce about the reckless night you and Sidney shared. The very night that you think might have led to such a life-altering event.

“Babe?” you hear Sidney call for you from the bathroom.

You have just gotten home from an annual fundraising ball that the Pittsburgh Penguins hold to support the foundations it is in partnership with. As the captain, and arguably the face of the franchise, Sidney’s hectic night also meant having to always stand wearing your impractical heels and a smile that has to be genuine enough– but not so much as to come off pretentious and inauthentic.

While all of the actions you’ve shown were true, it was evident that the pressure to remain perfect was taxing. To say that you were tired would even be an understatement.

You feel a hint of hunger but even that won’t stand against your need for a good night’s sleep.

As you lazily take off your earrings from one ear to another, you hum as a cue for Sidney to let you know whatever it was that’s going on in his mind.

“How does this thing work exactly?”

Baffled about the query, you lay your jewelry pieces flat onto the tray, and aim for the bathroom. You were still wearing the dress that elegantly clothed you for the entire night. It was a dress that Sidney had picked out himself. A dress that he knew would compliment and suit his girl just right.

The sliding doors of the bathroom were already half-open thereby causing you to see Sidney’s reflection in the mirror; his brows furrowed in total and utter bewilderment.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, meeting his eyes in the mirror once he hears your voice.

He turns to face your way and in his hand rests what seemed like a tiny, but regular, container of skin moisturizer you have been meaning for him to try.

“You watch me get ready for bed for years now, honey.” you idly tell him.

Sidney recognizes the exhaustion in your words, enjoying how your lazy voice register in his ears. He smiles.

“I don’t want to risk doing it wrong,” he explains. “I looked up this brand on the internet and I must say, it costs a lot for such a tiny bottle.”

You roll your eyes as you take the product from him. “It costs a lot because it also takes a lot to rescue,” you pause for effect as you playfully point at him, “that face.”

The two of you chuckle softly. Bare feet and about to get unready.

“Have you washed your face?” you ask him. Sidney nods.

“Alright. What else have you done?”

He shrugs, glancing over to his side of the sink. You’ve laid out a few products for him. Some of them he’d already gotten used to and some that he’s still figuring out. Sidney tells you about the few products he has initially applied.

“Could you please help me?” he asks in that voice he only uses with no one else but you.

You sigh dreadfully, eyes already closed with how tired you were. You lean your head on his shoulder, mumbling your words.

“But I’m so sleepy.” you let him know. After having a few seconds of rest, you add, “I haven’t even gotten my makeup off yet.”

Sidney knows you were beat. Even if he doesn’t tell you, he truly appreciates the great lengths you go for him. You don’t have to do it, but you did it all just the same for as long as it involved Sidney.

“I’ll take it off,” he volunteers.

“Pfft.” you snicker a foolish laugh. “I bet I can get a goal past you faster than you can learn how to take my makeup off. Properly.”

“Come on,” he says, putting his hands on your waist, giving it a good squeeze. “You got to at least let me try. I know you’re tired.”

You give him a smile but reply in a commanding tone, “Promise you’ll do it like I do?”

Sidney nods, ready to do after your bidding. “Religiously.”

Once you agree, you let him gently lift you up the counter next to the sink so as to let you be in a comfortable position. By the looks of it, the odds of you falling asleep were high and Sidney just couldn’t bear letting you stand on your feet after you’ve murdered them with those ridiculously high heels.

“Nooo,” Sidney coos. “Don’t fall asleep.”

With closed eyes, you softly chuckle. “Mkay.”

He glances over to the rack where you keep your nighttime essentials and asks, “What do I do first?”

Sidney willfully follows every instruction you give him as you patiently guide him throughout the process. His endless musings, in the hopes of keeping you awake, have evidently worked despite your exhausted state.

You didn’t want to drift off anyway. You were in total bliss feeling his touch; soft with care – delicate. Sidney’s fingers graze onto your skin ever so lightly as he applied every product. He did what he had promised you. He did your nighttime routine religiously.

His movements were put to a stop. You hear a soft clink of the product onto the tray; a sign that he was through.

Before you get to open your eyes, Sidney leans towards you. He then lightly pressed his lips against yours so as to give you a peck.

He plants a couple more before he eventually breaks away.

“Done.” He says enthusiastically, seeing you with a wide smile on your face.

“Yeah?” you briefly open your eyes, Sidney coming into full view. You see him half-naked with only his pajama bottoms on. His chest was rose-colored; perfectly in contrast with the shade of his stubble.

You take a quick glance at yourself in the mirror so you could get a peak of what he’s done. Huh. Pretty good.

You turn your head back and face him wearing a tight-lipped smile.

“Like it?” he asks. “How did I do?”

“You did fine.” you kid.

Sidney pretends to be appalled. “Fine? Just fine?”

“Uh-huh.” you tease. “Not bad for a first timer.”

“A’right.” he says with a smirk. “I know I could’ve done a lot worse than a ‘not bad’ so I’ll take it.”

“I’m just playing with you.” you tell him. “You did a good job.”

You open your arms, asking for a hug. Obligingly, he leans in and lets you wrap your arms around his nape. Your hands then found their way onto his face. Your fingers graze over rough stubble just as your eyes meet Sidney’s.

With your thumb landing on his lips, you gently pull Sidney’s face closer so you could lock him in a kiss. Gentle and sweet. Passionate despite being done swiftly. You feel each other’s warmth– with your mouth and your bodies pressed so close together.

Once the two of you break away, you say, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

His left hand removes some errant strands that lazily fashioned the side of your face. The other makes its way on the small of your back, pulling you even closer.

Before the two of you dive into another kiss, Sidney says, “Thank you for letting me.”

𖥸

When Sidney asked you to move in with him, the first thing he did was to start a major renovation of his home. You were not a fan of it because of the obvious reason; it was unnecessary. But alas, Sidney had his ways. He told you it was not just his home anymore. It was yours. “Ours.” was what he said.

It didn’t matter where the two of you were. Sidney had countless away games and series, and you had your fair share of business meetings on your end. But no matter where the two of you were, regardless of being away, your togetherness was kept by the home you have built with him. After all, Sidney’s home was just a massive block of building situated on acres and acres of land, standing still and lonely.

Then came you.

He stripped his home clean when you moved in. Little by little, you were able to incorporate yourself into his home. You had a say in every change; what has to go and what can stay. What paint colors to use and what kind of furniture he should get. Sidney did nothing but say "yes" the entire time. He wanted you to feel at home as much as he did. Neither the place nor the big still and lonely building did matter because he had you. For Sidney, you were home.

From the gorgeous outdoor landscape, classic hardwood floors, to high and white ceilings, Sidney wanted every corner of his home – inside and out, to have a touch of you. Only you.

It was his futile attempt at a romantic gesture. He wanted to be reminded of you each time he was in it. Because just like what he said, no matter what happens, wherever he may be, you were the person he knew he’s always going to come home to.

Looking back, it hasn’t occurred to you just how high and white the ceilings were. How distant everything seemed. Without Sidney, all of it seemed dull and ordinary. You just did not realize it until you spent the last several hours staring at that boring ceiling, lying in an all too cold bed that has seen the best and the worst of you and Sidney.

In spite of your still heavy and tired eyes due to all the crying, you find yourself reaching for your phone yet again. Maybe this time you’d get an answer.

“Please pick up.” you utter as you try to numb yourself with the endless ringing of the line. It was getting really late. Even with what happened earlier, you still wanted to hear his voice. That way you’d know he was okay. That way you’d know he was coming home.

With time feeling like eternity, you managed to give it some thought. Maybe it was your fault. Maybe he was right. You did attack him; one way or another. You could have told him some other time when it felt right or when neither of you were tired. Maybe that way, he could have reacted differently.

The weight you feel in your chest must have been incomparable to how he felt. It came to him unsuspectedly. The least you could have done was lay it all down easy. But no, you chose to put him in a difficult position where he has to choose between his present and the future. An ambush that was undeniably uncalled for.

Maybe, at some point, you forgot Sidney had a life where you didn’t belong. Maybe that was where you went wrong. Sidney had a life. You made him yours.

Your hand travels down to your stomach so as to remind you of what life already is – what life will be. Sidney knew you were carrying his child and the first thing he did was leave. For somebody else, it would have been their cue to go. But here you were, instead of feeling all the right things you should be feeling, still waiting for him.

If your calculations were right, it was another hour before Sidney finally came home. You turned away from the bedroom door and pretended to be asleep. He was quiet but his presence said otherwise. There wasn’t much movement being that Sidney was stoned at the door looking across the room. Looking at you.

Out of all the years that the two of you have spent together, this was the first time he actually did not feel like coming home.

Instead of the comfort he’s always felt each time he opened the door to your shared bedroom, Sidney felt unsure. It was as if he almost did not want to come home at all. Because you, who once brought him peace, was the very person who handed onto him a havoc served on a silver plate.

Sidney no longer minded the fact that he knew you waited for him. He knew you were still awake yet the first thing he chose to do was head towards the bathroom. The clear cut sound of the door coming to a close sends shivers down your spine. You try blinking it away, but the tears just start coming.

When the bathroom door opens, you squeeze your eyes shut knowing what’s to come next. It was a while before Sidney decided to come to bed. You feel it shift with the weight of having Sidney in it.

Normally, his arms would magically snake its way to your body and lock you in an embrace. That was the only way for Sidney to get a comfortable sleep. Now, he stares at the ceiling for a good minute or so before he shifts and looks at the back of your head.

He did not want to say a thing though he felt like he needed to.

It was wrong for him to feel this way. He knew that. But now that he’s conflicted, Sidney knows he’s going to have to give himself some time. Perhaps, even some time away. From this house. From you.

He takes a deep breath; long but subtle. The one you make when you’re trying to calm yourself before diving off a cliff. Sidney wishes he could come out of his. To be able to swim back to his surface. Because as hard as it was to admit, you were drowning him.

“Will you ever change your mind?” he breaks the ice and asks.

Despite being nervous to what his answer might be, you return the question.

“Will you change yours?”

He doesn’t say a word. And with that, you knew Sidney’s silence was his answer.

You do the same.

Though there was something he did want to let you know.

I don’t want to have to lose you.

But instead, he says, “I don’t want to lose you.”

You stifle a sob as a tear meets your pillow.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t answer not because you didn’t want to. You didn’t answer because you were afraid that you couldn’t think of any.

You hate to think you’d have to lose one another over the very thing that was supposed to make the two of you whole. The truth is, you were scared about so many things. You just didn’t know you’d have to be scared about losing Sidney.

𖥸

A few days have passed since you and Sidney got to talking. It was barely one being that all you’ve done was fight. It was already more than just an argument and time has been nothing but cruel in letting you know that the sudden change you see in him now is his way of telling you that the both of you are not and will never be on the same page.

Sidney chose to drown himself more in his Summer commitments. The last thing you heard he was off signing brand deals and staying a lot longer at the club. Now, while he’s busy playing in between putts and pucks, you’ve gone to another appointment and have been taking good care of yourself and your baby to the best of your abilities.

You were at the task of putting away the lillies you have bought on your way home when you hear Sidney’s car enter the driveway. It would not be long before he opens the door. You have not really thought of what to say to him. As much as you try to understand where he’s coming from, you badly hope he does the same thing to you and simply honor what’s already on the table.

The sound of keys being tossed onto the bowl rings throughout the hallway; commencing Sidney’s arrival. You see him enter the room in his usual golfing attire, lugging his equipment behind him.

You have not felt the thick air of uncertainty for a while and you realize it was because he was not around. You offer him a tight-lipped smile once you meet his eyes.

“Hey, you.” you call for him in a tone that lets him know you were open to talk should he want to discuss things with you.

Sidney declines your invitation through his own, “Hi.”

You feel a pang in your chest so you try and make up for it by putting the rest of the mess sitting on the island away. Sidney, on the other hand, sees what you’re trying to do. Nevertheless, he ignores it. Instead, he makes his way around you, heading towards the fridge to get a drink.

You give up.

“Is this really how you want things to be when you come home?” you ask.

Sidney sighs, letting your words sit in the air. He lets the sound of the water hitting the glass mock you as an answer. You watch him drink its entirety with a stern face, unbothered to even look you in the eye.

A month ago you can’t even picture him behaving like this. Time is fickle, so they say. But it is just as unpredictable and brutal.

“Sid,” you call, failing to mask the sound of your voice nearly breaking. Of course, you were desperate to have a decent conversation with him. You miss him. And even though you know you would not change your mind anymore, the best thing you can do is to at least have the chance to change his.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” you reach for his hand to hold it.

For a moment, you see his eyes soften. He looks down on your hands. You were scared that he was going to dismiss you but much to your relief, Sidney held your hand instead. He tenderly rubbed the back of your hand whilst he tried to find the words to utter.

This was one of the things you miss. Sidney’s touch. He’s always had a way with it. Nothing really mattered for as long as Sidney held you. You felt so secure – safe from anything that may come your way. For as long as you were with Sidney, you needn’t have to feel scared.

Just when you feel a sliver of hope, you see a somber expression in his face the moment you look back at him.

“I don’t have anything new to say.” he nearly apologizes.

Disappointment now printed all over yours, you choose to let him know of what kept you busy.

“I went to Claire and got a sonogram.” you tell him, forcing out a smile.

You opted not to get one the first time despite Claire’s advice. You wanted to have Sidney with you in that room. But now, it was painfully clear that it might never happen. Not to mention the fact that his child is continuing to grow regardless of what he had to say about it.

Sidney gladly lets your hand go so as to caress his nape. When he falls silent, you continue nonetheless.

“The baby is healthy.” you add.

Shrugging the latter off, he asks, “What about you?”

He still cared about you. At least that was there.

Is it really too much to wish he’d feel the same way for his child?

“I’m fine.” you answer, uninterested with your own well-being.

Sidney says nothing else but nods, dismissing whatever you still have to say concerning his unborn child.

“Won’t you at least see it?” you try for yet another time.

Sidney’s jaw clenches but he chooses to let it go. He didn’t come home to fight.

He pays you a meaningful look, devoid of the fact that the said sonogram was already pinned on the fridge along with a few old polaroids that the two of you intentionally kept for each other’s sake.

“I told you, I don’t have anything new to say.” he repeats himself. “And I still won’t even if I see it.”

It was clear that the two of you were trying to make ends meet. But Sidney was not trying hard enough.

“Then what are we doing here?”

You were offended, of course. You were utterly hurt by his appalling insensitiveness. Sidney did not give even an inch of care but that shouldn’t justify acting too much of an ass about it.

“Am I supposed to wait for you to change your mind before I continue carrying your child?” you continue, “I’m pretty sure pregnancy doesn’t work that way, Sid.”

Do you take him for a fool? He thinks.

You touched a nerve, causing Sidney to lose himself again.

“Who even told you I wanted one?” he retorted.

What does he think would happen after sex? A gala? A dinner party?

You need not stress on the obvious. Besides, doing so would just take you miles down the surface you’ve barely even scratched. Dealing with a closed-minded Sidney and piling on his share of negativity would just be counterproductive.

“I’m not changing my mind, Sidney.” you firmly state.

The time Sidney was gone did not make you want the things he wanted. It just made you certain – so sure, that you want nothing else but this baby. And you know there was no other way out.

“Are you with me on this or not?”

He scoffs at the thought of you making him choose.

“You’d really go that far, wouldn’t you?”

“That far?” you scorn.

“Sidney, that ‘far’ we happened to be discussing right now, is a life together!” you stress, pointing a finger at his chest. “So, yes. I am willing to go that far.”

Sidney could not find the words to save his own cause. But regardless of the problem he still hopes you can set aside, he knows that you will eventually come to your senses and choose the life that you were already living with him.

However, the wounds were barely even healed and here you were, deciding to pick at it again.

“I told you to come back only when you’re ready to be an adult about this and face it with me.” you order. “I don’t need you starting a fight because you know I will never change my mind.”

“Well, you know what? Neither will I.” Sidney shakes his head, adamant to bow down in favor of your will.

“There. I said it.” he adds, thinking of the night you told him about your pregnancy.

He sees your eyes watering and he knew it would be enough for you to pull him back in. But this wasn’t like the other times. You wanted different things and he did too. Maybe that’s how it should be. Maybe it isn’t worth prolonging what has clearly ended.

“You’re right.” he says, “I shouldn’t have come home in the first place.”

Suffice it to say that he did not deserve to feel half of what you have been feeling, you hold him back once he starts retreating.

“W-Where are you going?”

“Geno’s.” He shortly answers. “I cannot be on board with something you chose to decide all on your own.”

You fall silent as it was not the response you were expecting, especially not from Sidney. So instead of speaking for you and his unborn child, you watch him leave once again.

𖥸

Sidney made sure he was kept preoccupied for a reason. It was evident that you were making him choose. And despite him denying, he is certain that regardless of the path he’d be taking, you’ll choose to have the baby and leave the life you have already built with him.

He hated the possibility that you might leave him for something that was unplanned. Something that could have been prevented by a birth control shot. But no, it didn’t. It frustrates him that you won’t take the only ‘out’ he’s got to offer. It frustrates him even more to know that regardless of your choice, he just could not see himself being tied up to a commitment he knows he will never want.

Yes, he may have wanted and hoped for a life with you but that was it. Only you. He did not need anything more. On top of it all, he’s scared. He’s scared because he knows that he almost hated you for it.

You have reached an impasse and you and Sidney both know it. It was just a matter of who’s going to be the one to break it to the other. He doesn’t want to be the one to do so, hence why he chose to leave.

Sidney was a man that loved calculation. Everything had to be precise. Otherwise meant having to give a shot at failure. That was how he felt for the majority of his career. He did excel at school but it did not challenge him. It took less energy and made him less driven. He wanted to acquire so much and be so much more within so little time. Wishful thinking and ambitions aside, he made everything he wanted happen.

He just wishes he could figure this one out before it’s too late.

Geno had his feet up on the couch, hands were glued on the game controller, yelling at the TV. It was another game that he had one of Anna’s nephews teach him. He had nothing to do for the entire day and he was a firm believer that wasting time was not really wasted – only if you make it count.

The count, if you dare ask, was a 2-4 game versus some kid on the internet. N8Dawg29.

Geno’s shouting at the TV was put to a stop when the doorbell rang.

“Lucky bastard.” he says, throwing the controller elsewhere.

Given the moment’s notice, he wasn’t expecting anyone. He had no idea who it was at the other side of the door. By the time he opens it, Sidney’s face comes into view.

“Sid!” he says his name with a giant smile on his face. The very same smile that was washed away by the look Sidney had on his. Lost.

What brings you here? was what he wanted to ask. But given the way his friend looked, it was apparent that something big was bothering him.

“What’s wrong?”

Concern traveled to Geno’s eyes when Sidney spoke of your name as an answer.

“Is she alright?” he asks him, opening the doors of his home wide for Sidney.

Sidney looks him in the eye and says, “She’s pregnant.”

As the brand new information hit him, Geno begins to realize that such news might not have been well-received by Sidney.

Uncomfortable and panicking as to how he’d make light of the situation, Geno asks, “Who’s the father?”

𖥸

Geno knew he needed reinforcement. N8Dawg29 would have to wait.

No, it wasn’t because Geno was losing. It was because he had more important things to tend to. Let him leave it at that.

Two crystal clear snifter glasses were pinched in between his fingers whilst his other hand held a bottle of premium scotch. He takes long strides across the room, making his way towards the lesser halves of the Pittsburgh Penguins’ three-headed monster.

The Captain had just broken the news to Kris, but unlike Geno, the defenseman took his time before sharing his two cents. Sidney spared no detail as to what happened. The truth that he didn’t want a baby, and the ugly truth that you did.

Just like how he looked in front of Geno, the expression on Sidney’s face was more than enough for Kris to deduce that congratulations weren’t in order. Despite him being happy to learn about your pregnancy, Kris just couldn’t let Sidney feel as though his feelings were invalid.

Quietly, whilst the biggest names of the team sat together, the weight of the elephant in the room was still borne solely by the team’s captain. Once each of them was able to take a sip from their respective glasses, it was Kris’ turn to ask a question.

“Does she really intend to keep the baby?”

Sidney nods as the alcohol runs down his throat.

“Actually, she made me choose,” he says. “–said she’d do it with or without me.”

“Are you going to let her?”

Sid meets Kris’ eyes, “What would you have me do?”

Kris takes a deep breath, conflicted as to whether he was in the position to say what’s in his mind. “You know it really doesn’t matter what I think. It is still your decision.”

“Of course, it matters.” Sidney counters. You’re a father. He wanted to add.

“What is it that you want to hear from me?”

“Just hit me. Tell me how you feel. I can handle it.”

“All right,” Kris puts down his glass thereafter clasping his hands. “Are you a hundred percent sure that you don’t want to be a Dad?”

Sidney finds it hard to answer. But he knows it wasn’t because there may be a slight chance that he would eventually want to be one. It was mainly because he knew saying it out loud would paint him in a bad light. He can’t afford to look selfish in front of his friends.

Kris questions, “So, you’re telling me you haven’t pictured yourself with a child? Ever?”

“Of course, I have. It’s just– I don’t want to have one now.” Sidney feels like a fool for saying it out loud. “You know I love kids. I have always been great with them. You know how I am with Alex, right?”

Sidney looks at Geno once he speaks but all Geno did was avoid his gaze. Even he didn’t favor how Sidney had to bring up his godson as an example.

Instead, Geno asks, “Then what is the problem?”

“I don’t think I can be a good father. I’m afraid I’d screw it up.” Sidney fiddles with his fingers.

“How can you be so sure you won’t be a good father?”

Sidney sighs, “How did you know?”

“No one knows they’re going to be a kick-ass Dad until they become one.” Kris says. “I couldn’t even figure out how diapers work the first time I had to do it, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to be a good Dad.”

Sidney runs a hand through his naked hair. “Maybe that’s it.”

Kris’ eyebrows furrow, waiting for Sidney to continue.

“How can I be good at something I don’t even want to become?” He looks at both of his greatest friends.

He continues. “It’s different with you and Catherine, Kris. You both wanted Alex. You both wanted kids. I’m not quite sure I can even begin to like the idea of having my own and yet, here it is – already tearing me and Y/N apart.”

Kris takes a deep breath.

With his words subtly laced with judgment, he says, “There is only one thing you can do.”

“What?” Sidney raises a brow.

“You have to let her go.” Kris continued. “Even if it means she’d have to do it alone.”

Kris respects Sidney for not wanting to have a child. He knows he’d have to understand where Sidney’s at in life. If he says he’s not ready to father a child, then so be it. But that does not give him a pass on being a selfish prick who he’d still have to understand in exchange for you and your unborn child’s sake. You were as important as Sidney is to Kris. He wouldn’t simply allow Sidney to take everything he could while you empty yourself for him.

Sidney asks yet another appalling query.

“Do you really think she’d choose it over me?”

Kris answers with a knowing look on his face, “Any responsible adult would choose a baby over you, Sidney.”

“Kris,” Geno puts his glass down, interfering.

“What does that supposed to mean?” Sidney takes offense.

“What did you expect me to say, anyway? Did you come here expecting I will coddle you? That Geno and I will help you be this irresponsible?” Kris tells him off, switching glances between the two of them.

Geno calls him in a definitive tone. “Tanger, stop.”

“No,” he stressed. “The two of you came to my house asking for my help. Here it is. I am a father. It’s one thing to feel unready for such an immense responsibility. I get that. But, it seems to me that you’re seeing this predicament as a game you just have to win no matter what. That kid isn’t even born yet and here you are, antagonizing him for breaking your relationship. That is your child, Sidney. Your child with the woman you claim to love. Even if you don’t want it, the least you could do is acknowledge that it’s here. It’s not just a thing you have to tolerate.”

Sidney and Geno fall silent.

Kris gathers himself and stands, aiming to leave the room.

“Let her go, Sidney.” he recapitulates. “You know you’re not the person she needs right now.”

𖥸

Three days have gone since Sidney left home. You haven’t gotten enough sleep since then. You’ve tried busying yourself tending to some house chores but none of it sufficed. Tiring yourself did not help in your pursuit to keep your mind from thinking of him.

As much as you wanted to, regardless of your doctor’s orders, you just can’t function bearing a magnitude as heavy as the one you’re facing with Sidney, hanging over your head. Here you are, barely functioning through a day, how could you possibly picture a life without him in it? It seems as though the past is now a blur. But then again, so is your future.

“Hey,” Cath’s voice soothes you from the other end of the line. “How are you?”

You almost forgot that you were on a call with Catherine.

Dissociated, you answer, “I’m… I’m doing okay.”

“Are you sure?” she asks for the hundredth time.

For the past three days, you’ve always answered that you were. Perhaps, it was for you to save face in the hopes of seeing Sidney again.

“No.” you finally admit despite Catherine already knowing, “I’m trying.”

“I know you are.” she says.

It seems as though she wanted to say something else but didn’t know how. Sidney, apart from staying with the Malkin’s has gotten the liking of dropping by her house to see her husband. It had been a day since the first time they had talked about you. Catherine knew little of it but she knew Kris didn’t exactly agree with whatever Sidney had told him.

Finally, she lets out a sigh, “Listen, Sidney’s here.”

Your heart skips a beat at the mere mention of his name. With a glint of hope in your voice, you ask to confirm. “He is? How is he?”

“Well, to be honest, not good.”

You find comfort at the thought. You might still have a relationship worth saving.

“Do you want to speak with him? I can–” Catherine offers but you’re quick to decline. Maybe some time to himself will do you both good.

“No don’t, Cath. Really, it’s fine.” you say with a sad smile. “Knowing that he’s there is enough.”

Silence sits on the line for a moment. You have always waited for Sidney to come home for the majority of your entire relationship. It didn’t matter if he was gone for days or even more than a week; he came home every time. That thought alone made the wait bearable. Now, the uncertainty of it all just makes the wait longer because unlike before, you’re no longer sure he’ll be coming home.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” Cath pulls you back from your thoughts. The truth is, you haven’t.

“Have you been eating? What about your medications? Are you taking them?”

“Well, yeah. I am. I am taking them.” Sometimes on an empty stomach. Sometimes you miss it by an hour or two.

“Have you slept at all today?”

“I… Not really. I haven’t been sleeping well. There’s a lot going on in my mind.” you say as your eyes flicker to your surroundings. You then realize that the chaos in your mind has begun to translate into your home. Your sight eventually falls onto the load of dishes you’ve yet to tend to and others already cleaned waiting to be put away.

“I know. But you need to take it easy.” she reminds you. Catherine has a point.

“Please take care of yourself, Y/N.” you hear her sigh. “Your baby needs you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” you earnestly tell her, adding that Claire’s stopping by in an hour or two. “A friend is coming over to keep me company tonight. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

However, just as you stand whilst talking, you feel a sudden surge of sharp pain in your abdomen.

You find yourself holding your lower stomach, unsure if it was something to be concerned about. Claire has informed you about the minor discomforts you were inevitably going to feel as your body adjusts to being pregnant, but was it supposed to hurt this much?

Catherine calls your name when you failed to answer.

“Yeah?”

You start to walk, aiming towards the kitchen. Your palm rests on your abdomen in an attempt to relieve yourself of the pain you were still feeling.

You hold the phone with a bit more pressure, you hear Cath ask, “How are you really? You know you can tell me stuff. I know it must have been tough having to deal with Sid.”

You sigh in an effort to alleviate the pain. Your eyes begin to water by the mention of his name. It has been tough for you. If Cath could see it, how come Sidney couldn’t?

“I miss him, Catherine.”

“I know you do.” she replies sympathetically. “How can I help you?”

“I don’t know.” you reply as your breath becomes labored. “Just– , please tell him to come home.”

You shut your eyes, pressing on your stomach once you reached the counter.

“We need him.”

𖥸

Was Kris right? Sidney was deep in thought as the paddle hit the ball from one end of the table to another. Geno hits it right back. Sidney does the same. They go on and on uttering no words but mere sighs and labored breathing as they play the game of table tennis.

Even if Kris was right, he knew it was still going to be Sidney’s decision. If you yourself could not convince him of the life he so clearly does not want, what makes Kris think he can do otherwise?

Despite the heated conversation, Sidney was still thankful Kris had a gym in his basement. He needed to clear his mind; something Geno understood. Sidney rarely gets upset, but most of the times he did, it was for the right reasons. Now, however, Geno wasn’t sure.

“What are you thinking, Sid?” Geno asks as he recovers after missing the ball.

Through his still labored breathing, Sidney puts the paddle down and briefly looks at him. He shakes his head, not devoid of a single thought - but overwhelmed by millions of it concerning: you.

When he doesn’t hear a word from Sidney, he finally asks, “It’s been three days. Don’t you want to come home?”

Sid plays it off with a grin, “Why? You’re getting sick of me?”

Geno rolls his eyes, “Yes, what are you gonna do about it?”

The two of them share a brief laugh, trying to lighten the weight bore by the topic of you.

“I don’t know, man.” This time, Sidney tells him the truth. He does not know. He had hoped to know by being away from you. But if asked the same question of whether he wants the life that you do, he still has the same answer.

Before he can say another word, Geno speaks as if he read Sidney’s mind.

“If it’s not entirely a yes, it’s a no, Sid.” he tells him. “You’ve got only two ways out of this. To stay or to leave.”

Sidney’s taken aback.

To stay would mean to live a life off his books; blind and unplanned. He’d be traversing an environment completely foreign and unknown. To have a child of his own. To have a family. Forever.

And on the other, to leave would mean to accept the gut-wrenching picture of a life without you; to embrace it through and through. And maybe hope that someday, it will eventually get easier.

Before Sidney could even answer, the Letangs came rushing into the room.

“We gotta go,” Kris announces with urgency, the key to his car already in his hand.

Sidney’s eyes fall onto a frantic Catherine who was clutching onto her phone - voice trembling as she says, “It’s Y/N.”

𖥸

Sidney has never feared anything in his life. Between having to leave home at such a young age and thereafter fighting the horrible concussions that cost him almost fifty games off of his career, he has never felt as frightened as he did when it was you who was already on the line. He admits that he was not in the right mind to deal with what you have told him, but the fear of losing you was so insurmountable that it made being a father seem less terrifying than he could have possibly imagined.

“Where is she?”

“Is she okay?”

“Have you seen Claire?”

Wanting to breathe became obsolete once Sidney chose to speak all aforementioned. He held Cath’s shoulder, almost shaking her, in an attempt to get an answer.

“Claire took care of everything. She’s fine.” she says, relaying what Claire had told her.

He lets go a sigh of relief. He runs his fingers through his evidently unkempt hair – and asks, “What about the baby?”

If the record was right, it was the first time he’s ever asked about your baby.

Despite how Cath felt about Sidney, she did not simply have the answer.

Worriedly, he walks past her and looks through the small window of the lounge door. He sees a handful of people, mostly visitors. Sure – there were doctors going from one side of the room to the other wearing their coats and clipboards in hand, talking. Always talking. Giving out information, whether well-received or heart piercing. It was a whole ‘nother job that seemed so ordinary. A whole lot more than what is perceived.

Sidney wanted to go to you. He wanted to find you. But how can he do that if doing so would mean causing more risks than he’s already had? Because even if it was the least of his worries, Sidney could not possibly handle more attention from the crowd.

It was exactly the ugliness you had to bear being with Sidney. Being with him meant having to consider who he was inside and outside of the rink; that your personal life is inevitably tangled with the one he had with his skates on. There was no double life with Sidney. He has successfully integrated the two so he gets to live both. As for you, you were the tide that went along with it — the tide that kept his boat afloat.

𖥸

Claire hoped she wouldn’t be spending the night in the hospital. But then came you.

She was glad she still had the spare key you’ve given her to your home. Between scrambling to find it amidst her million other keys and finding you sitting on the cold floor of the kitchen, holding your stomach, with blood apparent in your clothing, Claire was just glad that she got to you the soonest you needed her to.

“My baby–” was the first thing you told her as you tried speaking in between sobs.

You looked at her, tears running down your cheeks, once she had approached you.

“It’s alright. I got you. I got you.” she repeatedly told you.

Her eyes fell onto where your hand was. Truth be told, she has never been this scared in her life. It was crazy how she simultaneously knew and didn’t know what to do. It was you. Your safety and the life of the child you’ve yet to birth, placed unexpectedly in her hands. Despite all that, she was certain that she’s not about to lose anyone. Neither you nor your baby.

“Please don’t pass out.” she murmured more to herself as she held your face. “Stay with me, alright? You guys are gonna be okay. You’ll be okay.”

Claire stayed true to her word and took care of you. You were settled in a private room, resting. It was evident that all the emotional and physical turmoil you’ve been trying to suppress has finally caught on and got the better hold of you. Scarily so, despite the night’s ordeal, you were now safe. You and the baby.

You were asleep when Claire left you in your hospital room. She still has a few of your documents that needed sorting out. Well, that and having to deal with the man – with both of his hands placed on his waist, pacing – waiting for her at the end of the lobby.

“How is she?” Sidney asks Claire the moment he was within hearing distance.

She ignores him. Instead, she goes inside the waiting room and acknowledges the presence of Catherine alongside Kris and Evgeni.

“How is she?” Catherine shoots the same question.

Claire initially answers with a nod then proceeds, “She’s going to be fine. We just need to let her get some rest.”

Cath nods as well as the others.

“And the baby?”

Claire doesn’t give a definite answer.

“We’re still waiting for several results.”

“W-Why?” Sidney jumps in the conversation. “Did something happen to the baby?”

Unfortunately, as much as Claire wanted to hit Sidney’s face, she couldn’t. She wasn’t in the hospital just because she’s your friend. Simply put, duty calls. And right now, Sidney demands her of it.

“I am not at liberty to disclose anything at the moment, but I assure you, we are doing the best we can.” she tells Sidney despite not meeting his eyes.

“Will you at least let me see her?” He pleads.

“I don’t think so.” she states firmly.

“What– Why?” Sidney asks quite defensively. “I am her emergency contact person!”

“No, you are not.” she informs him. “You cannot see her files because you are no longer her emergency contact person. I am now. You are neither her next of kin nor are you married. And if you are present as any partner should have, you would know.”

Sidney scoffs, “That’s bullshit.”

“You are not my patient, Sid. I am in no way responsible for disclosing information Y/N clearly doesn’t want to share with you.”

“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” Sidney complains.

“I have nothing to say to you.” Claire tells him.

“I can’t believe how unprofessional you can be!” Sidney exclaims when Claire continues to ignore his requests.

“No,” She looks at him for a moment, gets back to reading your form on her clipboard, and meets Sid’s eyes once again. “It’s the consequences.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

The Letangs come in between the two to mitigate the tension, “We’ll just wait for as long as we need to.”

“Why? What’s the plan, Sid? Huh? Isn’t this what you wanted? To spend your years like Jagr?”

“Don’t you fucking go there.” He warns.

Even more appalled by Sidney’s reaction, Claire grins and shrugs shamelessly before walking away.

“I think I just did.”

𖥸

Sidney did not exactly know how he did it and how fast he had done it, but as soon as Claire had her hands full, he went straight to grab the brass metal of the door knob leading to your room.

Quietly, as he spared one last glance of his surroundings, he turns it and opens the door.

It was a good thing that your bed was not adjacent to the doorway. Sidney could not fully comprehend the things wrecking his brain all at once. Although he knew of one thing: he finally gets to see you.

Your mind drifts right off the tip of your finger as you look outside your window. The fog was so even and misty that it made the entire window a blur. The only thing you could see were the steady white lights of that huge corner block building fashioned by the noise of cars driving off to a better place than the four corners of your hospital bedroom.

Judging by the scenery, you could tell that it was well past midnight.

As you lie with your still aching heart, you find yourself grazing your stomach ever so gently as if you were holding something– someone, much more meaningful than your entire being.

If only he was–

“Hey.”

He is.

Sidney had both of his hands resting on his side alienated by the thick air he usually causes. It was a battle as to whether to go near you or stay still. But judging by the way you looked at him so strangely, he knew he didn’t have any other choice.

You watch him inch himself closer until he is already at the foot of the bed. He looked unusually small for a man of his stature. Your eyes did not miss a thing. You saw the hesitant look he had coupled with the urgency that is perhaps all too late to be paraded before your eyes.

Despite noticing all that, in Sidney’s eyes, you did nothing but look. He was scared not because it made him uneasy. He was scared because you have never looked at him that way.

There are so many things to be said but Sidney was at a loss for words. He wanted to ask how you were; how the baby was. He wanted to say how sorry he felt for leaving and how dumb it was to let you suffer when he could’ve been there like he should have. He wanted to let you know how badly he prays and hopes that you’ll find it in yourself to forgive him. But mostly, he just really wished that you’d still want to make it work and build that family – with him.

How could he say all that when it feels like you were miles away beyond his reach despite him already holding your hand?

Finally, as though the words have only occurred to him, he asks, “How are you?”

He looks back at you as intently as he thought you did. However, your eyes mirrored his, unwillingly. Sidney takes the empty seat beside your bed; never letting go of his hold on you.

Soon enough, you look away and aim your attention onto his hands. Both of his palms embraced your hand oh so desperately, pleading a prayer only he could hear.

“I’m sorry.” he says, eyes now misty with tears. “It’s all my fault. I should’ve been with you. I’m sorry. I was selfish. Please please forgive me.” he adds, pressing wet and much more desperate kisses on your hand.

He waited for you to say something in return but he received nothing. You looked at him exactly the way you did when he arrived; sparing him a blink or two whenever your eyes got tired.

It was the kind of silence Sidney wasn’t accustomed to. It was the kind of silence he never knew.

Until now. Until you.

His voice breaks when he decides to speak yet again.

“Please say something.” he desperately asks.

But you don’t.

You just lie in the same cold bed, letting him hold your hand.

Afraid of what has become you, Sidney masks his fear with a wide smile albeit it didn’t do any better. It just made him feel worse. Maybe even a thousand times more than he’s already had.

“Mon amour…” he calls you. “Please talk to me.”

You blink and look away.

Sorrow now filling the void he feels from within, Sidney sees your hand that was still resting atop your stomach.

For the first time, he then dared to ask, “How… How's the baby?”

Sidney sees you look at him yet again as if to finally acknowledge his presence in the room.

However, the words you spoke next nearly made him wish you did not bother at all.

“There is no baby, Sidney.”

You spit the words like vile coursing from your throat; voice hoarse from the eventful night.

“W-What?” he stammers, evidently shocked at your uninhibited way of revealing such news.

“There is no baby.” you repeat just as you remove your hand from his hold.

“You may go.” you quietly add, looking away.

Confused, off-guard, and terrified, Sidney tries to grasp the thought of the truth.

“What do you mean there is no baby?” Sidney begins to flood you with queries. “They must have read the tests wrong. It can’t be right, can it? Claire told Cathy everything was fine! We do have a baby!” he nearly grovels trying to get a hold of you, pleading.

“We have a baby, y/n.” He breaks. “We’re going to be a family.”

Oh you’d kill to have him say those words when you needed him to. Only he didn’t. And that is the truth you’re now choosing.

“I need you to go, Sidney.” you respond calmly, frustrating him even more.

“Please, y/n!” he cries. “What happened to our baby?”

“It’s gone, alright!” you lose it just as Sidney’s world begins to crumble, “You got what you wanted!”

You blink away the tears about to break just as you say, “I need you to go because I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“No– There’s got to be another way for us. We always find a way.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Sidney.” you reiterate. “I don’t think we should be together.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re mad at me,” he argues. “Just be mad at me, y/n!”

He grabs your hand and places it close to his cheek. You can feel the tears on his skin and his desperate cry to escape the inevitable.

You look at him with the same fondness you once had. The last he’ll ever see.

“It’s over, Sid.” you declare. “I don’t want this– I don’t want to be with you.”

“Y/N… please,” he says. “I’m begging you.”

“Leave, Sidney.” you reach for the red button on the side of your bed, hoping to get Claire.

Sidney’s tears continue to fall. But you no longer care.

“I can’t do this without you.” he says in between sobs.

You press the red button repeatedly. You wipe your tears away wishing Claire would get to you faster.

“Please don’t end us.” he says, knees already on the cold hospital floor; a complete mess. “Please don’t make me leave.”

Before you can push him further away, the door to your room abruptly opens; Kris and Geno come into view.

With a firm yet cautious voice, Geno calls him. “Sidney.”

Kris puts an arm over Sidney’s shoulder, “Let her get some rest.”

“Y/N–” Sidney calls for you once more; bearing with him the thought of losing his son and his son’s mother. The family you wanted a little too early. The family he wanted a little too late. The painful truth that Sidney chose to carry with him for years however ugly and cruel you made it to be just so he can still make it seem real.

If only he knew.

series taglist: to be reblogged! [tumblr crashes a lot and won't let me post smh]

note: woooow been a hot min! how's everyone? i hope you liked this long over-due update i'm so sorry life got in the way for a bit. anw, you know how much of a sucker i am for interaction so lmk what you think love ya! ♡

add yourself to the series taglist here. i appreciate all kinds of feedback! ♡

#sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby x reader #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #sidney crosby fanfiction #call me crosby #cmc #barzzal imagines #letters to crosby #the gif... very telling

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