#because they lose it to the Bruins in the final
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You Catch More Bees With Honey: Chapter 18
Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader
Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe
Summary: Bradley Bradshaw, blindsided by a team he trusted like family has been traded to the San Diego Dogfighters. Across the country from the place he calls home, Bradley feels lost and betrayed. Not to mention the familiar faces and ghosts from his past that he now has to face every day at work. Bradley’s caught between wanting to show his former team the mistake they made in double-crossing him and wondering if it’s time to hang up his skates after one final season. You’re living your dream as the PR representative for the Dogfighters. When Coach Maverick made a bid to bring his godson to the team, you hadn’t batted an eye. Bradley was a good teammate, and a good player. Unfortunately, the Bradley that shows up in San Diego is nothing like your research suggested. He’s moody, irritable, aggressive, and angry, throwing a wrench in all your careful planning. What’s caused such a drastic change in him? And can you figure out how to help him before he makes a mistake you can’t fix?
Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, mentions of sex, dead parents, mentions of major character death, physical violence, sports violence, mentions of blood, angst, age gap (28 and 38), enemies to lovers, suggestive language, hockey inaccuracies etc. No use of Y/N.
Word Count: 4k
A/N: One more surprise while I’m out on vacation~
Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter
The energy in the arena this evening is electric. Bradley recognizes it even if his teammates don’t. It happens anytime he plays the Boston Bruins. He had hoped it was exclusive to Philadelphia but this confirms that it’s him they’re buzzing for, not his former team. What they expect to see, he’s not sure. His mind tries to convince him it has everything to do with the two former Bruins in the building, Tom “Iceman” Kazansky and Beau “Cyclone” Simpson.” Maybe they expect him to lose it? To let out almost four decades of rage and resentment, but why would he? He doesn’t harbor any of those towards the players warming up on the other side of the rink. None of them were playing that day. It was thirty-six years ago, after all.
He’s seen the video, of course, grainy and not the best quality yet you can clearly make out the defenseman that lands the hit on Maverick before Nick Bradshaw steps in. He wasn’t a defenseman. No, Bradley’s father wasn’t built to be a defenseman. Where Bradley’s all hunking muscle and broad shoulders, his father was slender, their only common physical trait being their height. Nick Bradshaw was a right winger and he shouldn’t have tried to fight that defenseman from Boston. They called him Goose in the league because he was always sticking his neck out for Maverick. Bradley hates hearing the nickname now. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth as he thinks about how avoidable it all was. If his father hadn’t gone after that defenseman, he wouldn’t have lost his helmet. He wouldn’t have crashed into the boards with the force of the hit. He wouldn’t have been discharged without a proper concussion diagnosis. He wouldn’t have dropped dead in his kitchen in front of his wife two days later from an unprecedented brain hemorrhage.
So no, Bradley doesn’t harbor any hatred for the Boston Bruins. He harbors it towards Pete Mitchell and he studiously tries to ignore his assistant coach’s eyes that he can feel on him. Instead, he focuses on the other pair of eyes he can feel. You look beautiful tonight, dressed in a smart-looking lavender skirt suit. It hugs your curves in all the right places and he’s selfishly looking forward to taking it off you later tonight. He can see you brush your hair away from your cheek, irritated. While for the most part, you’ve been enjoying your new, shorter cut, he’s caught you on more than one occasion attempting to sweep the strands into your signature ponytail only to find that you can’t anymore.
“What’s with the crowd tonight?” Javy asks Jake and Bradley turns as Jake nods towards him. Javy arches a dark eyebrow at Bradley.
“Him? What about you, Bradshaw?” Javy asks as Mickey and Reuben skate over, Bradley grimaces.
He hesitates before he answers, “It’s always like this when I play Boston,” he explains. “My dad’s accident was during a game against the Bruins.” He sighs. “It always feels like they're waiting for something but I don't know what. Whether it's for me to follow in his footsteps or for me to take some kind of revenge I don’t even want, I have no idea.” He shrugs before regarding the mixture of somber and surprised expressions. “It’s just another game, let’s win it.” He says and Jake nods in agreement.
***
The game has been exactly as he’d said, just like any other game. He could tell the other Dogfighters were mildly off put by the strange atmosphere but after he and Jake had reiterated that it was just another game, they seemed to have settled. The crowd continues to feel like it’s holding its breath and now Bradley’s tempted to join them.
They’re setting up for a faceoff after Boston iced the puck, Jake standing face-to-face with one of Boston’s centers. One of the other defensemen to his right is looking into the stands and Bradley’s uninterested until he speaks up. “Did you get a load of San Diego’s PR? What a smoke show, I bet her pussy’s as tight as her attitude.” Bradley stiffens and he watches the other guys, Jake included, follow suit. He grits his teeth, trying to control his temper even as he feels a surge of angry solidarity from his teammates. He thinks he’s just managed to reign himself in when the center opposite Jake smirks back at the defenseman, his expression oily.
“Eh, I hit that back when she was with Jacksonville, she wasn’t that great.” His smirk widens as he watches the Dogfighters tense up, basking in the daggers everyone within earshot is currently sending his way. Bradley can feel the anger inside him chafing at its leash as he struggles to keep it in check, to push aside the center's crude words that is until he keeps running his mouth. “You’re more than welcome to my sloppy seconds, though.” The leash snaps and Bradley barely remembers to toss his gloves aside as he tackles the center across from Jake. It’s an illegal hit, the puck wasn’t even in play, he knows that but he can’t see through his rage as he lands hit after hit on Boston’s center. He hears a shout of anger from the direction of the defenseman who made the original comment on you and then a cry of pain as the ice descends into madness. It’s a full-on brawl as the Dogfighters and Bruins go head-to-head. He can hear the whistles of the refs and shouts to break up the fight but he can’t see anything but the smirking face beneath his fists. When he pauses to catch his breath, the center spreads his bloody lips in a gross grin as he spits in Bradley’s face. “What’s wrong, big guy?” He smirks at Bradley’s red face now splattered with a combination of his saliva and blood as Bradley’s blood boils at the use of the nickname. “Upset Barbie isn’t a virgin?” Bradley doesn’t speak at first, his rage passing through him in a wordless, feral growl and he watches as fear flashes through the center’s eyes for a split second.
“Shut the fuck up about my girlfriend, you worthless piece of shit.” The words are just as much of a growl, almost inhuman as he hurls them into the center’s face. He watches humor war with fear in the other man’s blue eyes as he realizes his mistake. “You talk about her? Look at her? So much as think about her? I’ll fucking kill you.” His voice is so quiet he knows only the two of them heard it and then fear wins the war in those blue eyes as they see something in Bradley’s that wins the turbulent war in his head. He grabs at where Bradley has the collar of his jersey fisted in his hands, trying to remove them, but Bradley tosses him to the ice like a rag doll, standing to his feet just as the firm, furious fingers of the ref clasp his upper arm like a band of iron.
“That’s enough, #84, you’re done for the night.” He makes to drag Bradley to the bench but Bradley follows without resisting. At some point, he lost his helmet during the fight and his curls are stuck to his forehead with a combination of his sweat and the various fluids the center spit onto his face. He didn’t hand a single hit on Bradley other than that. He looks around to see the other Dogfighters in various states of injury being led off the ice. Mickey gives him a hard look, nodding firmly as if to thank Bradley for what he did. Jake meets his eyes at the bench as Bugs checks him out. There’s a shallow cut on his forehead that she’s assessing and his nose looks broken. When the ref releases Bradley, Jake reaches out to clasp his hand.
“Whatever anyone else says?” He says, tone even despite the heavy rising and falling to his chest. “You did what we all would have done. It was the right thing to do.” Bugs scowls at him, pinching his ear slightly before turning to Bradley.
“You okay, Bradley? Anything I need to look at before you get in the box?” He shakes his head as he looks around, the haze he was in early wearing off. Jake seems to understand as he supplies,
“Ten minutes for misconduct for every player on the ice.” Bradley’s eyebrows raise.
“EVERY player?” Jake gives him his signature cocky smile.
“You even got Bob to fight,” He nods in the direction of the goalie who’s currently being chewed out by his coach and girlfriend. He doesn’t get a chance to respond as Dare walks up.
“Bradley, what the hell was that?” She’s wearing an expression that’s partly irritation but mostly concern.
Bradley shrugs. “He was mouthing off, I didn’t like it.” Dare shakes her head before pinching the bridge of her nose. “Well don’t bother going to the box, you’re out for the rest of the game. You’ll be lucky if you’re not out for the next few let alone the rest of the season.” Bradley doesn’t say anything but shakes his head as Jake grimaces.
“I’m serving my penalty with my team first.” He watches Dare’s face soften with surprise before she nods curtly.
“Get over there then. Jake, you too.” She calls out to Bob as well as Bradley skates towards the box. As he climbs in, he takes a good look around at the other three guys in there. Javy’s got a split lip but he grins at the sight of Bradley, extending a fist out of sight of the cameras. The penalty box wasn’t designed for this many players at once. Bradley bumps his fist, subtly before turning to Mickey, who gives him a tired and tight-lipped smile.
“I know why you did it,” he says and he sounds exhausted. “I would have done it too. I just hope you’re ready to live with the consequences. She deserves a hell of a lot better than cleaning up after your messes.” Bradley’s heart stops at his words, instantly turning to look back at the bench. He hadn’t seen you when the ref brought him back, and you’re not there now.
“She’s talking with the reps, trying to see how they're going to punish you for starting that fight,” Reuben explains from where he’s sitting. Bradley feels his shoulders drop. He’s given you a reason to worry yet again. He keeps giving you reasons to worry.
“I need to talk to her,” he says and Mickey snorts.
“Get in line.” His normally cheerful expression is stormy. Bradley frowns at the change.
“What?” Mickey looks at him, his brown eyes dark with exhaustion. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’m tired of seeing her cry, man,” Mickey says, fire licking to life in his eyes with anger. “And I’m sick and fucking tired of seeing her cry over you.” Bradley’s blood runs cold. You were crying? He’d made you cry again? He curses under his breath but doesn’t have a chance to say anything as the door to the box opens and Bob and Jake shove themselves in. It’s a tight squeeze but they manage.
“While I’d normally be touched by your sudden bout of sportsmanship and loyalty, this box wasn’t meant for six,” Jake says with a playful grin on his lips even as he presses tighter against Bradley.
“Did you see Zam by any chance?” Bradley asks instead of commenting on Jake’s statement. Jake’s expression clouds as he chooses his words carefully.
“Yeah, she was understandably upset but I’m sure everything will be okay once you explain what happened.” He reaches out to squeeze Bradley’s shoulder in the cramped space but it doesn’t make him feel any better. He needs to find you. He needs to talk to you. He needs to be sure you’re okay.
***
At the end of the longest ten minutes of his life, Bradley heads down the tunnel in search of you. Normally, he’d be led down by a coach but Dare’s busy with the game and Maverick was sent off to talk to Cyclone and Ice about how to move forward. When he reaches the hallway at the end of the tunnel, he’s not sure where to check first but he doesn’t have to decide as you round the corner. Your face is puffy from crying though Bradley can tell you’re trying your best to hide it. On his skates, he towers over you. As he crosses the space over to you your eyes widen in surprise at seeing him. His heart breaks a little as you step back, almost like you’re afraid of him and he pulls up short as much as his body is screaming to pull you into his arms. He can barely hold himself back when he sees your lower lip tremble as you regard him warily.
“Honey, please, please don’t cry.” He urges, trying to resist the urge to cross the distance between the two of you. Restless and confused, he shoves a hand into his unruly curls, chest heaving with anxiety. You don’t say anything, simply watching him as he watches the lights wink out slowly in your eyes. “Honey, say something, you’re killing me, please.” That makes your lips move but all that comes out is an exhausted and dead laugh. It sends a chill down his spine.
“I’m killing you? Bradley, you promised me this was over. You promised me no more fighting.” His heart breaks in two, sinew snapping as he struggles to push the pieces back together.
“Honey, I know, I know I promised, I just-“
“No.” The word is so firm it shakes him to his core. “No Bradley, I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.”
“What?” His voice is dry and unfamiliar as the words tear past his lips. Never in his wildest dreams had he considered that he’d screwed up this badly.
He sees the pain twist your features even as your trembling lips set in a firm line. “I can’t live every day of my life, scared to lose someone else.” He feels like the breath has been punched out of his lungs as he stumbles back at the weight of your words. “I’ve spent the past eight years, afraid to let anyone in, afraid to get too close to anyone because I was scared I was going to lose them too. And then you came along and you showed me how to love again. You showed me it's okay to let people in. And I thought it could be different,” he watches the last bit of light wink out of your eyes and your shoulders slump with so much exhaustion that Bradley just wants to take the weight, for you to lean on him and let him carry you.
“It can be, Honey, I swear it can be. This is different, I can be different. I never want to hurt you, Honey.” He feels tears burning the backs of his eyes as he struggles to hold onto you, the best thing that’s been in his life all year, in all his years, truly.
“Then don’t.” You swallow and he watches you fight back tears of your own. “Stop hurting me and let me go, Bradley. I’m so tired of losing people. I can’t lose you too, so just let me let you go, please.” He never did stand a chance when you begged. He stands aside when you push past him and when the sound of your heels has retreated far enough that he can’t hear you anymore, he falls to his knees.
***
He’s not sure how long he’s been there, the picture of a fallen soldier but a hand finally closes over his shoulder. He looks up, not sure who he’s expecting but starts at the sight of a pair of blue-green eyes.
“You okay, kid?” Maverick’s voice is careful, cautious as if he’s trying not to spook a horse. Bradley’s too exhausted to reply, or even shrug his enormous shoulders. The two of them stay in that position, Mav’s hand on his shoulder until Bradley finally finds the words.
“She left me.” He barely makes it to the end of the sentence before his voice breaks. Maverick’s quiet for a minute, considering his words before he replies.
“She’ll come back.” Bradley chokes out a twisted excuse for a laugh, the sound dry and broken.
“You didn’t.” Maverick’s quiet for another long moment before he replies.
“She’s smarter than I am. Than I was,” he adds.
“She’s scared,” Bradley says then, unsure why he’s opening up to Maverick but right now he doesn’t know what else to do. “She thinks she’s going to lose me too.”
“I know the feeling,” Maverick says then. “It’s a valid fear.”
“She’s not the only one who doesn’t want to be left.” He says then, fists curling at his side. “I don’t want to lose her, because if I lose her,” he takes a sharp breath that pierces every one of his vital organs on the way in, unable to finish the thought. The two of them stay silent for a long moment before Bradley speaks again. “Trade me.” Maverick starts in surprise, his fingers curling tighter into Bradley’s jersey. “Please,” Bradley turns then, gripping the older man’s hand in his, even as Maverick holds onto Bradley’s jersey. “Please just get me out of here. I can’t be here. I can’t be here if I don’t have her, I can’t.”
“No.” Maverick’s words are firm even as he pulls his godson closer. “Take it from someone who knows a thing or two about leaving? Don’t run. Stay, fight for her. Fight for her because she’s everything.”
Bradley shakes his head. “She doesn’t want me. And if I lose her, I won’t have anyone.” Maverick grips his chin with his free hands forcing Bradley to look at him.
“Today, more than anything, proved that’s not true. You have a team that stands behind you, that wants to fight for you. That’s not nothing, and don’t you ever dare say it is.” His blue-green eyes are blazing with a fire that Bradley’s never seen. “Zam’s upset right now and she has every right to be. She’s scared of you leaving, so prove her wrong. Show her you can stay. Be the man I never could be. Tell her you’re sorry. Apologize, but don’t you dare leave her.” Shame washes over Bradley as he realizes what he’s just done. His shoulders shake as a son wracks his body and the tears he’s been fighting back break free. Maverick slides to his knees then, gathering his godson in his arms, and Bradley’s too tired to resist. “I know this doesn’t change the fact that I left,” Maverick whispers into his ear as he cradles the much larger man. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but you don’t deserve to make the same mistakes I once made. If I can prevent you from doing that, it’s the least I can do for you.
***
Bradley’s not sure he’s ever been in Iceman’s office. It’s on the top floor of the arena all by itself. The room is full, both his coaches standing on either side of him, with Cyclone pacing back and forth behind them as they wait. The chair next to Bradley is currently unoccupied and Iceman waits patiently as Cyclone grumbles and occasionally looks at the door. It's been less than twenty-four hours since the game against Boston. The Dogfighters barely edged them out at the last minute, Mickey scoring the winning point with an assist from Jake. Maverick told Bradley to go home after his breakdown, and so he hasn’t seen you since. The door opens with a click and he looks up to see you enter. You look exhausted. You’re wearing a suit in a soft butter yellow that doesn’t suit your darkened mood. There are smudges under your eyes that say you haven’t slept and Bradley’s heart clenches. He wants nothing more than to go to you and guide you into his lap but he forces his hands to remain in his lap as you cross the room, not looking at him and instead locking eyes with Iceman.
“Five games,” you announce and the pressure in the room releases like a heavy breath. “He’s suspended for five games.”
“How the hell did you manage that?” Everyone’s heads turn to where Cyclone has stopped his pacing. You look too tired to manage conversation right now and instead give him a tired shrug.
“I’m good at my job.” Bradley’s heart swims with pride even as it aches at the exhaustion that he can hear hanging off your every word. Cyclone shakes his head in astonishment before nodding curtly to you.
“Good work, then.” You turn to Iceman, placing a folder on his desk.
“That’s a summary of the official terms as well as summaries of the phone calls I made so we don’t get our wires crossed. As Beau said, we’re very lucky that this is all the penalty that Bradley’s facing. There’s also a pay cut taken out of his annual salary but nothing he can’t handle. The other guys are all off the hook.” Bradley’s stomach turns at the idea of his teammates potentially having to take a punishment as well for his actions. You look around the room, purposefully avoiding him before clasping your hands in front of you and turning to Iceman once again. “If that’s everything, allow me to excuse myself. We have a game tomorrow to prepare for, regardless of whether Bradshaw’s playing in it.” Bradshaw. He hates the way you use his last name like it removes all emotion from the equation. It’s the way you used to address him when you were irritated with him, back when he was just a problem that needed solving. It’s what he feels like now. Iceman dismisses you and you exit the room without another word.
“She needs to go home, Tom. She’s no use to us exhausted.” Dare speaks up then and Iceman turns to her, raising a blonde eyebrow in curiosity. “Zam spent all night on the phone with the Department of Player Safety. It’s a wonder she got us the deal that she did. She’s done her part, she needs to go home and get some rest.” You’d been here all night? You’re wearing a different suit than you had been last night but knowing you, you have an extra stashed somewhere in your office for emergencies. Once again Bradley wants nothing more than to take you home and tuck you into bed where you’ll be safe, but he’s forfeited the right to do so. Guilt gnaws at him as Ice nods and Dare heads after you, squeezing Bradley’s shoulder before she goes. He hasn’t had a chance to talk to her about everything yet, but he has a feeling that Maverick’s filled her in.
When the door clicks shut behind Dare, Ice turns to Bradley and he starts in surprise at the twinkle of humor in the older man’s eyes as he regards Bradley silently. “You’re a lucky man, Bradley Bradshaw.” He says after a long moment. “She fought for you, better make it worth her while don’t you think?” Bradley nods firmly, trying to ignore the shame that’s worming its way into his chest at the idea of you on the phone all night, fighting for him even after you begged him to let you let him go.
“Yes, sir.” Ice nods back and the room is silent for a long moment, the other two men in the room having nothing to contribute to this seemingly private conversation.
“Good luck, Bradley.” He says, mouth curling up at the edge and Bradley feels a flutter of hope in his chest. “I think I speak for everyone in this room and on this team when I say I’m rooting for you.”
A/N: To everyone who said they could die happy at the end of chapter 17… I’m sorry……?
#you catch more bees with honey // sdd#ycmbwh // sdd#san diego dogfighters#san diego dogfighters au#san diego dogfighters hockey au#Bradley Bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#Bradley Bradley x you#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#Bradley rooster Bradshaw x you#bradley rooster Bradshaw#rooster x you#rooster x reader#no use of y/n
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"you’ve learned a long time ago to stop thinking things would change. (it didn't stop you from hoping anyways.)"
So, it's that time of year again, and I don't have the Raptors to distract me. It's the NHL playoffs and I am a Leafs fan. If you know, you know. I wrote this a year ago for myself and @thatlesbeanjew because being a hockey fan is not the faint of heart, and I completely forgot to post it to Tumblr ;-;. The title is from Jason's Spezza's retirement article and I think it applies well here.
For my sports (specifically hockey) fans who're in an toxic relationship with your favourite team, here's some southern comfort for you.
CW: author is being sentimental about grown men playing a game, i wrote this with the last years Bruins' collapse in mind (sorry tay), but no team is mentioned!!, city wolf darlin makes a comeback, Fluff, Comfort, so much comfort, someone send me to therapy
--
There’s never an easy way to say goodbye.
No one wants to say goodbye, and even if it has to be said, let it be said with finality, with a sense of accomplishment. That even if this is the end, the journey was enjoyable. That the blood, sweat, tears (and really dumb questions) were worth it. That the years, your childhood, spent hoping were worth it.
No one wants to end on a whimper, especially if it’s broadcasted on national TV.
They still can’t believe that final goal went in.
Darlin’ stared at the TV, watching the series-winning goal over and over again. Their eyes tried to rewrite history, using what magic they have to will the puck to not cross the red line. Go wide right, hit the post, or even knock a player's teeth out for all they care! All their efforts were for naught. The goal still goes in, the building goes silent save for the cheers from the opposing team, and the season was over.
It was hard to believe that just a moment ago, their body was buzzing with anxiety, every sensation was cranked up to an eleven. Only for all that excitement collapsing inside their body, creating a black hole within their heart, numbing them to the result of the game in front of them.
All of that emotional investment just to get the same result. They felt silly for letting themselves dream, believe, with nothing to prove their faith. Everyone around them had been right, but they insisted on their foolish delusion, stubborn to the very end for this hockey team that has brought them nothing but pain.
Darlin’ had always preferred the painful route, embodying the sentiment that ‘love is pain’. It just so happened that it applied to more than the people in their life.
Their legs lost all their strength, causing them to fall backwards onto the couch. Their eyes stayed glued to the screen, ears ringing louder than any goal horn they’d heard in their life. Part of them wished they had never decided to care for this stupid team that only does stupid things and makes them cheer like a stupid idiot.
Ok, maybe this seems like an exaggerated reaction to a hockey team losing a game, but truly, this is how Darlin’ felt at this moment.
And Sam knew it.
They barely registered the soft blanket wrapping around their shoulders, but the warmth helped ground them a little bit. Sam always knew how to bring them out of their daze, with gentle pressure and plenty of space. Always giving them the choice of when to ask for help, a choice they’ve found themselves making more often.
They heard the faint clink of a plate on the coffee table in front of them. But what had knocked them out of their trance was Sam finally turning off the damn TV. It didn’t stop the goal horn from ringing in their ears, but at least they didn’t have to see that fucking rat’s shit-eating grin again. Who the fuck does he think he is? Fuck that guy, fuck that team, fuck everything-
They blinked repeatedly, feeling Sam’s hand playing with their hair. “I can feel your rage from here,” he chuckled. “Can’t imagine what you’re plannin’ to do to the other team in that pretty brain of yours.” Slowly, he shifted his arm to wrap around their shoulder to pull them closer to his chest. The tension that built up in their forehead had finally gone away when they heard his heartbeat. “Knowin’ you, you’re plannin’ something nefarious.”
“...I know where they’re stayin’,” they mumbled, nuzzling their face deeper into Sam’s chest. “That’s all I’ll say about that.”
He kissed their hair line and pulled them closer. “For the record, I will not be an accessory to your murderous rampage.” The small smile on their face prompted him to continue. “But I promise I won’t tell no one about your little scheme.” Leave it to Sam to make them smile when all they want to do is curl under a blanket and bleach the game from their mind.
They huffed in his chest. “I appreciate you not snitchin’ on me, but come on? You ain’t gonna help your mate with the body? Fake ass bitch.” Darlin’ let out a quiet giggle. Seeing the southern man deadpan at them is a surefire way to make them smile.
He pinched their nose and scoffed, “forgive me if I don’t want to see my mate in jail because a hockey team decided to beat your team.”
They pout at his statement, not appreciating the blunt tone he used. Come to think of it, when he puts it like that, their reaction to the ending of this game seems ridiculous. Wanting to kill grown men for doing their job? Because they just happen to beat their team? They’re a grown adult damn it! They’re better than being emotional over a team!
Sam flicked their forehead, knocking them out of their spiral. He pulled his wolf closer to him, letting their head rest on his shoulder. “No self-deprecatin’ spiral for you, Darlin’. You’re allowed to feel shitty over a game.” He continued to pet their hair, content with sitting in silence until they were ready to speak.
Darlin’ kissed his cheek and sighed. “I know, I know, I’m valid with my feelins’, it’s just��” They trailed off, biting their bottom lip while trying to articulate their thoughts into words. If only incoherent screaming was enough for Sam to understand their emotions. “When I say this team has sucked for my entire life… there hasn’t been a year where shit has gone right for us.”
Their vision blurred as they continued. “And I’m so fuckin’ tired of- of having hope that things will end different and then they never do!” The more words that poured out of them, the more anger bled into their voice. “It’s like, come on! They’ve had decades and so many different fuckin’ players and management to get their shit together and they never do! How much longer do they think people are gonna blindly follow them until…” A sob crept up their throat. “...Until we all decide to just… not care.”
They sighed in frustration. “I know it’s so stupid to fuckin’ care about a stupid team this much… I don’t know… They were the only good thing from my childhood.” Darlin’ chuckled at their last statement. “God, how has mt life been if this fuckin’ team was the best part?”
He rubbed their arm to comfort them. “Well on the bright side, it led you to my arms, so could it have been that bad?” Darlin’ pinched his chest, but that only caused their vampire to laugh harder. “Am I wrong, Darlin’? You seem to be enjoyin’ my arms a little too much,” he teased, acting as if it was a complaint against them. They both knew that Sam would rather die again than see his wolf in another person’s arms.
He held their face in his hands. Sam knew every little habit and quirk that Darlin’ had, and he knew that they wouldn’t look him in the eyes whenever they got emotional like this. “Darlin’, I need you to look at me please.”
They did as he asked them to, lifting their gaze and getting lost in his silver eyes. He kissed their forehead, whispering a soft ‘thank you’ against their skin. They don’t know if he’ll ever understand how fucking terrifying it was to have someone know them so well. But they wouldn’t trade that blissful feeling for anything else.
“It’s not stupid to care about this team, Darlin’. They were a huge part of your best memories as a kid. And maybe you will get tired of them one day and it will suck. But there’s no shame in lovin’ unconditionally.”
Darlin’s vision blurred again and cleared their throat to stop themselves from sobbing. “Even if they hurt me over and over again?”
Sam smirked, “well if they hurt you again, I’ll have to pay a visit down to their office and make sure they win.” Darlin’ scoffed at his cockiness but didn’t stop him from continuing. “‘Sides, like you always say.”
“Oh God, don’t say it-”
“There’s always next year.”
“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”
#redacted asmr#redacted audio#redacted fanfic#redacted darlin#redacted sam#be a leafs fan they said#itll be great they said#so rude that i dont have sam with me this year#this is year will be torture#zo writes tingz#this is zo speaking
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❥ 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪
trent frederic.
word count: 1.4k
no warnings
"you've begun to feel like home" — the fray
- - -
You loved seeing your boyfriend. In fact, there was nothing in the world that you loved more than watching him on your flatscreen TV, playing hockey in the “big leagues”, as you notoriously called it, much to his annoyance.
One thing you never seemed to get tired of was his undying love for the physical aspect of the game. There was nothing more satisfying to you than to watch him stick it to some glorified asshole on the ice, knowing they damn well deserved whatever came to them.
Trent was an enforcer; you always liked that.
And because he knew it, he was nothing short of thrilled to come home to you after the Bruins’ 5-4 loss to the Kings. The team may have lost, but Trent achieved his first Gordie Howe Hat Trick, so he couldn’t find it in himself to be too upset. He was on cloud nine, and he wasn’t coming down anytime soon.
You’d been casually living with him for about a month, and it was barely official. In truth, you’d just stopped going home and he never protested. One day, you even came back to your very own half of the closet, which had somehow become empty since the last time you’d seen it.
When you heard the unmistakable click of the front door unlocking, you all but jumped up from your spot on the couch and beelined for the entryway of the apartment. As the door creaked open, you finally were able to catch a glimpse of your boyfriend’s face, and you could immediately tell that he was putting forth his best effort not to smile like the dork that he really was.
Before his bag even got the chance to touch the floor, your arms were around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. “Congratulations, T.”
His smile broke through as his arms found their way around your waist, hands meeting in the small of your back. “Thanks,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.
“Mhm,” you smiled, pulling back and looking up at him. As your eyes examined his face, you noticed the small butterfly bandage stuck to the bridge of his nose. Naturally, you pulled your hand back and raised it to the spot, using your thumb to gently graze it. “He got you good in the nose, I see,” you giggled.
“Yeah. It’s not too bad, though,” he confirmed, looking down at you. “I’ve had worse.”
You pressed a small kiss to the bandage. “I know. Trust me, I remember.”
You stepped away from him and started for the couch, where you were comfortably sitting before he came home. Your hand patted the seat next to you, beckoning him to come and join you. “And, if I remember correctly, you lost the fight today,” you teased. “So…a cut and a penalty for nothing!”
“Well, excuse me,” he responded in a mocking tone. “You just gonna taunt me like that every time I lose?”
“Feels like I’ve been doing it a whole lot lately…”
An innocent expression took shape on your face as your eyes darted around the room, your hands folded in your lap. With a shrug, you added, “I might need to find a new boyfriend who can actually win.”
A roll of his eyes followed, along with a nudge of your shoulder by his own. “Oh, I’m sure you will. Have fun with that.”
Another soft laugh exited your lips and you turned to him, lowering your voice slightly.
“I know I tease you, but it’s all just for fun,” you told him. “I couldn’t have been more excited watching you today. Every day. I mean, god, you’re playing in the NHL, T. That’s insane.” Your head shook back and forth slowly. “It’s amazing, and I just,” you paused to take a breath.
“Fuck, I’m just so happy for you.”
He beamed down at you, a flustered smile shaping his face. “Thank you,” he replied gently.
Your head then fell atop his shoulder, his arm slipping between you and the couch cushion behind you to wrap around your waist. He pulled you in and brought his face closer as he looked down at the top of your head. You then felt his lips press a soft kiss to your scalp, and your body relaxed into his almost instantaneously.
“Sometimes I get nervous when you fight,” you spoke quietly, breaking the silence and changing the subject.
“What about?” he questioned, and you shrugged in response.
“Nothing specific, really, I just…don’t want you to get hurt, y’know?”
“Now, when have I ever really gotten hurt besides a few cuts and bruises?” he countered, and you could practically hear the grin on his face. His free hand came around to your front and reached for one of yours, then entwined your fingers together.
“I guess you’d be right,” you laughed to yourself, letting your eyes close as you felt his thumb grazing the skin of your hand lightly. “I love watching you fight. I just don’t want to see you get too hurt. Do you have any clue how bad I wanted to kill that Lomberg guy for choking you like that?”
You felt his breath hitting the top of your head when he chuckled, his chest rising and falling. “I don’t doubt it. Maybe it’s a good thing that you weren’t there then, eh?”
“Yeah. It is,” you agreed with a firm nod.
“You’re really something, you know that?”
“I know,” you joked bashfully. Your eyes met with his as you turned to look up at him, matching smiles shaping your faces. “But you love it.”
“Yeah,” he practically whispered, looking down at you with unmistakable affection in his eyes. “I do.”
He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to yours, allowing the kiss to linger for just a moment before slowly pulling back. He’d never looked so pretty—you were convinced. You loved every part of him, from his warm, open-mouthed smile to each faint freckle on his face. And you always had peace of mind knowing that he felt the same way about you; not a single day went by without him reminding you of that.
“I love you, but you gotta stop worrying so much.”
Wide eyes were your nonverbal response—your only response, at that. You knew that your ears hadn’t deceived you, and you knew exactly what it was that you heard. You only wondered if that’s really what he meant by it.
“You…huh?”
He chuckled softly at your surprise and brought your intertwined hands up. He flipped them over, then brought his lips to the soft skin on the back of your hand and looked back up at you.
“I love you.”
He spoke the phrase with conviction, not a lick of hesitation present in his tone. Neither of the two of you had verbally expressed it to each other. Yet, it should’ve seemed almost obvious that he felt that way. Hell, he’d been showing it to you without saying it since day one. And besides—you already knew that you felt the same. You had for a long time.
“I love you too, Trent.”
Breaking out into smiles began to feel almost ritual to the two of you, your hand releasing his and finding its place around his neck, allowing you to envelope him in a tight hug. The warm skin of his neck pressed against your cheek as you buried your face in his shoulder. His eyes slowly fell shut once you were comfortably settled into him.
“I meant it, though. You don’t have to worry about me.” He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your head. “I’ll be okay,” he murmured, hand trailing up to your hair and gently stroking it. You only nodded in response.
“I’m so proud of you, Trent,” you whispered into his shoulder.
There was not a thing in the world that you enjoyed more than the feeling of his large—abnormally so, as you’d tell him—calloused hands holding you, keeping you close. Quietly sitting with him, doing nothing but enjoying each other’s presence. You knew that time didn’t come to you frequently, so when you had some, any at all, you never took it for granted.
So you stayed there for the rest of the night with him, wrapped up in his arms. It wasn’t long before you felt yourself drifting off, and he followed you shortly after, making sure that you’d fallen asleep before he could even try.
A situation you undoubtedly wouldn’t have thought to be so natural with someone, yet you couldn’t have possibly imagined being in anyone else’s arms. No person in the world could make you as comfortable as he did.
Trent meant everything to you. And you knew that you meant the same to him.
#trent frederic#trent frederic fic#hockey#fanfic#boston bruins#hockey fic#bruins fic#boston bruins imagine#trent frederic imagine#trent frederic gif#cute imagine
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What are your good and bad surprises in the league so far?
There are, of course, significantly more examples than this, but I don't want this to be a long-ass post so I will just point out my personal highlights of highlights - naturally, they are quite Czech-centered since that's my main interest:
GOOD
The Bruins - obviously.
To be honest, I was slightly anxious about their fate from now on since losing two elite centers like Bergeron and Krejci at the same time, and also guys like Orlov and Bertuzzi, does leave you quite vulnerable, especially after a crushing first-round exit like they have experienced, but they have honestly been rocking it so far and I love it for them.
The Poitras kid, Zacha stepping up his game and delivering as the first center, Pasta showcasing that he very much belongs in the top 10 of the league, Swaymay with Ullmark being the best goaltending duo in the entire league, Marchand giving slays left red right as a captain, the defense being solid...
Filip Hronek in Vancouver
The Hughes-Hronek defensive pairing is among the best right now, they have clicked extremely well with each other, Filip is getting extreme ice time, and I am glad that at least someone from the former Red Wings is thriving in their new home
Quinn is literally leading the defensemen in points and Filip is 4th, which is insane, considering he has never been viewed as a top defenseman among Czechs
Anaheim and Arizona
They still won't make the playoffs, we all know that so let's not be delusional here, but they are finally getting genuinely fun to watch and showing us the immense potential they have.
Logan Cooley is doing great for a rookie in Arizona, has eight points already... - imagine what Bedard would be able to showcase if he had at least a slightly decent team around him
Lukas Dostal in Anaheim's net...
Jack Hughes and Elias Pettersson - for obvious reasons, just look at the stats
BAD
Edmonton
Honestly, has someone told them that having Leon and Connor on the team doesn't mean you don't have to invest in the defense and goaltending because I feel like they genuinely don't know that
Is it really that hard to look around and fetch at least a solid goaltender? They are the complete opposite of Boston right now in terms of the net - sorry not sorry, but they don't have a single goaltender they could truly rely on, both of them are equally struggling and the awful defense is certainly not helping them. Just go look in the European leagues, there are a ton of outstanding goalies who would be eager to play in the NHL if you gave them the chance
Imagine how sore Leon's shoulders must be right now from carrying the team - you can't depend on one elite player to drag you through the mess, you yourself are responsible for, you have to have some sort of backup when one of your stars gets injured
Jonathan Huberdeau
You gotta feel for Calgary right now - signing this guy to an 8-year, $84,000,000 contract and him scoring two goals for you in ten games played...
Jakub Vrana
I was genuinely hoping that St.Louis would be the right destination for him in terms of them giving him the space and ice time to showcase his skills and solidify his position on that roster, but instead, it's the third team that makes him a healthy scratch
I know that there is a lot of pressure there for the team to perform so it might not be entirely Jakub's fault, however, this really is his last chance to stay in the league and currently, he is not delivering the results needed for him to be given another contract
Dominik Kubalik
Watching him at the Worlds where he was single-handedly leading the points of the Czech team and scoring basically every single game at least once, I did have great expectations of him, but so far, he has scored only two goals in Ottawa.
I am not that knowledgeable about the Senators - frankly, the only piece of information I know is that Tkachuk, Stützle, and Giroux are there and that Ryan Reynolds wanted to buy the team before he invested in yet another trash called Alpine in Formula One, but knowing Kubalik, his problem probably is the lack of ice time and competent linemates, which I am not sure is going to improve any time soon
Genuinely hurts to see another former Red Wing struggling
#nhl#nhl players#ice hockey#boston bruins#arizona coyotes#anaheim ducks#filip hronek#dominik kubalik#jakub vrana#jonathan huberdeau#edmonton oilers#leon draisaitl#logan cooley#lukas dostal
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carve your name into my chest: chapter 8
(read it on ao3!)
with all love to @stevecarrington & @maxineholtzmann & blue!!
[complete | explicit | tw for slurs and internalized homophobia]
chapter eight: on your team
Bruins to play Canadiens tonight in Boston. Munson is three goals away from being one of the youngest players (and first openly gay NHL player) to hit 300 career goals—will tonight be a hat trick and a new record for the Bruins star scorer?
The only consolation to the All-Stars weekend was that Carver had earned himself a season long suspension and a ticket right to diversity training, and the Metro division had lost against the Pacific in the championships.
It was better than the alternative. Then again, he wouldn’t have been happy with any outcome that wasn’t them winning, so he supposed it was lose lose either way. Literally.
After All-Stars, Eddie put his head down and tried to get back to hockey.
He’d puked in the bathroom the morning of his first practice back with his own team. Archie had tried to reassure him that no one actually gave a shit about him being gay, but he hadn’t believed it until he’d walked into the room, braced for impact, and found nothing.
Jeff had clapped him on the back and winked at him, and Gareth sidled over with a soft smile. “Proud of you, man,” he said, before tugging Eddie into a bone crunching hug.
“For what?” Eddie laughed, as he hugged back. “I took the coward’s way out, bro.”
Gareth laughed and smacked him on the back. “For finally getting laid, dude. You know we’ve all been trying to help you with that for years.”
Eddie tossed his head back and honest-to-god cackled at the sentiment, and then he leaned in and winked. “Don’t you worry, Garebear. I’ve been just fine on that front.”
Then his heart sunk, just a bit, because he wasn’t going to be anymore. But he wasn’t about to tell the team that.
(keep reading on ao3!)
#carve your name into my chest#steddie hockey au#hockey au#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#YALL!!!!!#it is FINALLY DONE#oh my god good i am so!!!#this chapter is a BEAST its like 8300 words hahaha oops#i am so excited for yall to read it#<3#honestly can't wait#enjoy!!!!!!!
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Cal Rolls Past UCLA, 33-7
Ott has 100-yard kickoff return
LOS ANGELES -- In the final Pac-12 regular season game in history, the Golden Bears decided to make it memorable. Not only did the defense force four turnovers and Cal score on a 100 yard kickoff return, but they won their third game in a row to become bowl eligible.
California crushed their hosts 33-7 and actually the game wasn't even that close. Besides Jaydn Ott's 100 yard score, Jeremiah Hunter had a pair of touchdown receptions from Fernando Mendoza and Mateen Bhaghani kicked four field goals for the Golden Bears (6-6, 4-5 Pac-12), who passed their baby bear cousins in the standings and won what could be the last meeting between the two UC teams for the foreseeable future.
“It was a month ago there wasn't a lot of positivity around the program. I think it just speaks to the character of the guys in the room,” Cal head coach Justin Wilcox said.
UCLA, which had started the remarkable conference collapse last June when it announced that it was moving to the Big Ten Conference in 2024, was hit upside the head by a group of scrappy, angry Cal players who were ready to get their revenge for the fiasco the Pac-12 has become. They also dropped Chip Kelly to 34-34 in his six seasons at Westwood and put his job on the line. The greed and fear that drove UCLA and USC to dump their conference after nearly a century saw them lose out in their final season games and exposed their weaknesses as football programs that have seen better days but underachieved in recent years as teams such as Washington, Oregon and Utah have eclipsed them.
The Bruins (7-5, 4-5) committed four turnovers that resulted in 13 Cal points. Quarterback Ethan Garber (little brother of former Cal QB Chase Garber, who decided to snub Berkeley when he was being recruited) was sacked early and had to leave the game after only 12 plays due to a right shoulder injury on the play. Freshman Dante Moore had to take over and was only 23 of 38 with two interceptions. He was also sacked six times. Cal's Cade Uluave had 12 tackles, a sack and an interception for the Bears, who only trailed for 16 seconds midway through the second quarter.
"The guys played with guts," Wilcox said. "I just have so much respect for the guys in that locker room - finishing the season the way we have. I have a lot of pride seeing those guys enjoy the moment."
After UCLA took a 7-6 lead on Logan Loya's 5-yard touchdown catch, Ott fielded R.J. Lopez's kick at the goal line. The sophomore found a seam near the Cal 20-yard line and then went up the right sideline the rest of the way.
It is tied for the third-longest kickoff return in Cal history and the sixth time it has had one of 100 yards or more. It was also the first kickoff return for Ott this season. Wilcox said the plan was to use Ott as a returner because UCLA came into the game leading the nation in run defense, and he didn't think Ott would get many opportunities with the ball.
“We know that Jaydn is an electric player. I give a lot of credit to our special team staff as well for getting it schemed up,” Wilcox said.
Ott also had 80 yards on 21 carries. Mendoza completed 19 of 30 for 178 yards with two touchdowns and two interceptions.
“Not a lot of people believed in us, especially when we said in the interviews that we were going to burn the boats (beat Washington State), burn the forest (defeat Stanford) and now burn down the city (beat UCLA) and crush the Bruins," Mendoza said. "But everyone in that locker room really believed that and we knew it was gonna happen.”
Cal led 6-0 at the end of the first quarter on a pair of field goals by Bhaghani. After UCLA linebacker Laiatu Latu picked off Mendoza's pass and returned it to the Cal 8, the Bruins took the lead three plays later when Moore connected with Loya for a 5-yard TD.
UCLA's advantage would be extremely short lived though as Ott ran back the ensuing kickoff and devastated the home crowd, who fell nearly silent the rest of the game.
Cal extended its lead to 20-7 late in the first half. Three plays after Brett Johnson recovered Moore's fumble at the UCLA 11, Hunter scored on a 14-yard touchdown pass from Mendoza with 10 seconds remaining.
Bhaghani had a 32-yard field goal early in the fourth quarter and Hunter caught a 13-yard pass in the left corner of the end zone to further the Golden Bears' advantage. Hunter finished with eight receptions for 101 yards.
Several thousand Golden Bear enthusiasts who made the trip to the Rose Bowl stayed well after the end of Cal's 33-7 victory over UCLA, dancing and celebrating in the stands behind the South end zone along with players, coaches and staff. The players carried the enthusiasm into the locker room, flying high on their three game win streak after suffering some extremely close losses mid-season.
"I want them to soak it up," Wilcox said. "I want them to be with their brothers. There's nothing like that. That's why a lot of us coach - you can't find that anywhere else. As gut-wrenching and agonizing losing is, there's no feeling like being on the other end of the spectrum - especially under the circumstances and what was at stake. I'm just really proud of those guys. I have a lot of love for those people in that locker room."
The Bears are expected to find out their bowl bid on Sunday, December 3. It will be the third bowl so far in the Wilcox era.
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If we’re talking hockey! Calum. I need to see some angst amongst the fairy tale. Like if he loses an important game and takes his frustration on her and she leaves.
Oof you know I love me song angst.
It’s always a big game against the Boston Bruins. For years it’s been a ‘friendly’ rivalry between the Kings and Bruins and Calum was on edge along with the rest of his team.
While he was skating along the ice he faintly heard the announcers calling out their names and the uproar that erupted when his name was called. He scans behind the glass in search of y/n and when he finally finds you, he picks up his speed. You shift so you’re at the opening and he skids to a stop.
“Hey tiger,” you greet with a smile. “How’re you feeling?”
“Amped up,” he grunts tapping his stick on the ice.
“You’ve got this. Do you have my scrunchie?” you bounce on the balls of your feet.
“Of course,” he cracks a smile. “I can’t play without it, or without a kiss from my girl.”
You tilt his helmet up so it’s resting on his forehead and meet him in the middle for a kiss. You’re used to the fans cheering every time you do this but you hope you never get used to the feeling you get whenever you kiss Calum.
“C’mon man,” Michael taps him on the shoulder quickly then skates away.
Calum breaks away and you pull his helmet back into place.
“Go get ‘em, tiger.”
“Thanks Princess.”
It’s a rough game with a lot of fights, a few of them involving Calum and some guy named Fuller from the Bruins team. You hated when he got into fights because you think back on when he tore his MCL. Sometimes in fights helmets get knocked off and fists connect with faces.
The Kings had so many ‘almost’ shots to score but ultimately, the Bruins won by scoring with the last five minutes left. The atmosphere shifted in the arena as fans were disappointed by the loss and a few cheers were heard from the random Bruins fans in attendance.
Before the teams left the ice, another fight broke out and you were shocked to see it was Calum and the Fuller guy again. Michael pulled Calum away and you shuffled out of your seat so you could wait for him.
It’s tradition for the team and their significant others to eat at The Jolly Barrel, The JB for short whether they won or lost a game. The team is sullen as they drink their beers and poke at the appetizers as you make your way towards Calum. You rest your chin on his shoulder.
“Hey Princess,” he grunts.
“Hi tiger. I’m sorry about the game,” you sit in the stool next to him.
“Yeah…me too,” he takes a big chug of his beer. He sets the bottle down then nods to the bartender for another one.
“Are you hurt at all?” you hedge and try to meet his gaze but he keeps his eyes on the bar top.
“No.”
“What was that last fight about with that Fuller guy?”
“He was talking shit and I was sick of it.”
“You shouldn’t let him get to you–”
“He was talking about you so I shut him up,” he snaps and you recoil.
“Oh.” You look around the bar, nodding to Michael and his girlfriend Crystal. “Have you eaten?”
“Not hungry.”
“You should eat something, even if it’s small like a banana. Do you want water?”
“No, y/n,” he sighs, “I don’t want a banana or gatorade or water.”
You’re not used to him acting like this, he’s lost games before but he’s never treated you this offhandedly. He’s very withdrawn and keeping you at arm’s length.
“Okay…um, do you want to relax at your apartment?”
“No.”
“We can talk about–”
“Damnet, y/n, enough all right?” he snaps finally looking at you. The bar goes a little quiet. “I’m in a piss mood and I don’t need you to try and fix everything. So let me be pissed, all right? Your glass may always be full but sometimes it’s half empty for the rest of us.”
You’re frozen in surprise. He’s never spoken to you like this. You feel ashamed and embarrassed that his whole team witnessed it but more importantly, you feel hurt.
Then anger quickly rolls in and you hop down on your feet.
“Excuse me for caring about your well-being and wanting to help you. You lost, it sucks but that doesn’t give you a right to speak to me like this.”
You voice waivers and cracks as you defend yourself. A beat passes and he turns away. The tears don’t fall until you’re running out the bar in humiliation.
***
As you practice your routine, you replay the other night over and over again in your mind. The words Calum bit at you left a mark in you that kept hurting. When you got home from the bar you silenced your phone and when you woke up to see no messages from Cal, your heart broke.
After your practice, you quit a half hour early because you weren’t focusing. As you left the ice and exited the tunnel, you spotted Calum leaning against the tunnel entrance. The way he’s looking at you reminds you of a dog with it’s tail between it’s legs when it’s done something wrong. His expression appeases you slightly but you were the one he bit so you walk past him.
“Princess, wait, I need to talk to you.”
“I don’t need to talk to you.”
“Please, it’s about the other night–”
“Oh, you have more hurtful things to say? Where’s the team?” You look behind him in search of them, “or can you do it without an audience?”
“Princess–stop!” he stands in front of you blocking your way to the locker room. “I was a total ass and a dickhead to you and I’m so so sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said because it isn’t true. I was frustrated and I took it out on you and that was wrong of me.”
You stare at him and see how sincere he is, his brown eyes are sad and pleading.
“It really hurt me, what you said,” you whisper.
“I know,” his shoulders cave in, he stops closer to you. “I know and I hate myself for it. Please, can you forgive me? I love how caring you are and how you want to make sure I’m okay. Please, Princess, I’ll do anything.”
You look at him in thought.
“I know I can be a little overbearing sometimes…just tell me when I am and I’ll stop–”
“No,” he rests his hands on your shoulders. “You’re perfect just the way you are. I promise I won’t act like that ever again.”
“You’ll never be angry? That’s impossible, Cal. Be angry, just don’t treat me like a punching bag when I’m on your team.”
“I won’t,” he shakes his head, his fingers trail up to your neck cradling your face in his hands. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, Princess.”
“I’m sorry I was being so pushy.”
You smile at each other and embrace each other at the same time, you inhale his cologne deeply. The steady beat of his heart is music to your ears.
⛸️🏒⛸️🏒
Taglist: @calumance @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower @mymindwide @itjustkindahappenedreally @seanna313 @mulletcal @pandaxnienke @celestialams @in-a-world-of-fandoms @blairscott @writersdare
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Before puck drop on the conference finals… group chat wellness check? Especially the Oilers and Maple Leafs. I don’t think there are any Bruins in the gc but watching them hug Bergeron as they left the ice was rough
YOU COME HERE? INTO MY HOUSE BLOG and ask me about the FEELINGS OF THE BRUINS????
No fr fr tho I did see that handshake line and it was very sad.
BUT a wellness check... and a couple of lil spoilers for upcoming gc
Gabe's in surgery - he's recovering, poor Baberiel.
EJ's down in Cali with Paul, holed up and trying not to think about the future.
JT is feeling like the WORLDS WORST CAPTAIN because obviously if he were a BETTER CAPTAIN the leafs would have made it further (he's wrong. It wasn't on him)
Freddie is stressed. Because he NEEDS to prove that he can make it in the postseason but he's not getting as many starts as he WANTS, but also he's won way more games than he's lost. So overall. He's ok
Auston is in carolina, hiding in Fred's apartment. Being his biggest cheerleader and being secretly grateful that they never had to play 5OT
Jacky is mourning the loss of his tooth. Also playoffs are HARD why did nobody tell him that playoff hockey was hard? I mean, obviously he figured it out pretty quickly, but yeah, that's so fucking different to regular season hockey... why did nobody mention it? (spoiler alert, they did)
JSoup is very happy about Jacky's lil tooth gap which he thinks is the cutest thing ever. He lowkey doesn't care about not making it any further because honestly, he wasn't getting the starts and he wasn't expecting the starts and he never knows where he's gonna be, maybe it'll be a cup contender, maybe it won't, he's just along for the ride.
Leon and Connor are fighting, because one of them thinks that they should head down to Florida to support Matthew even though they've only just been kicked out of the playoffs themselves, and the other one thinks they should give themselves a couple of weeks together to lick their metaphorical wounds and just be with each other. It is not the way round we expect.
Jeff is cheering on Carolina like he's never cheered any team on before and if you ask him he'll say it's just because they're his old teammates but truly it's because he just wants the panthers to lose...
Sid and Nate had a brief moment of "should we just go to worlds?" and then decided they were far too old and are on holiday in the sunshine working on their golf
Dylan and Alex are in Toronto chilling with the fam and generally enjoying the off season
Tyler is playing his lil socks off
Matthew is....... Matthew is pretty convinced he's walking around in a dream because none of this actually feels REAL right now. Oh, and also he learnt to advocate for himself a little bit, with some help from his boyfriend
Ritter - is in florida, enjoying "the sun" ;)
Willy and Latts are holed up in their cabin
Jeff and Richie are holed up in THEIR cabin
Danny and Claude would LOVE to be holed up in the cabin, except, well... there are children to look after and they're working hard to give Ryanne a break
Cale is... struggling. Because OK he could feel the team was different from last year but, but, they were the fucking reigning champs, and they lost? In the first round? And he needs to TALK about it, but... he doesn't feel he can talk to Carter because, well, it's a bit shitty to COMPLAIN about losing IN THE PLAYOFFS to someone who's not MADE the playoffs for the past few years
Bobby Lu is having the time of his life
Kaner is sulking. This year did NOT go to plan. Also he's now a UFA... what's with that, he could play ANYWHERE? That's not how hockey's supposed to work... he's a hockey GOD... he's supposed to STILL BE IN THE PLAYOFFS and also he'd very much like to stay in NY please, but he doesn't think that's likely to happen and he really REALLY wants to blame Vladi Tarasenko, if only the fucker wasn't so nice....
Jonny is... dealing with Sulky Peeks. And Baby Pat. And he's still sick, because chronic illness doesn't just Go Away and he's having to make tough decisions and if Peeks could stop trying to make himself the centre of the universe for just one minute... you'd think he'd be used to that by now
Key is having Big Confusing Feelings... nothing new there then. He's in his research era. We stan a man with footnotes.
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lets talk about tyler seguin brainrot because like he had triumph and tragedy very early on and then he was the party boy who everybody wagged their finger at and then once he finally decide to settle down and take everything seriously the guy hes soulbound himself to in the early days went the opposite of growth and turned into a asshole werido so now HE's suppose to be the adult who drags them to success
man are you the same person who asked me about the nolpat brain rot and the mtkachuk brain rot or are there just multiple people on this website that like seeing me spiral via essay? but yeah okay i can do segs brain rot. and i won't even write an essay this time. mostly. i lied.
but yeah okay. tyler drafted 2nd overall in 2010 to the bruins, a team that only had that pick because they got it from toronto. in reality, the bruins never should have picked that high because they had just come off a season where they made it to the second round of playoffs. of the top 15 picks in that draft, he had the best chance of winning a cup soon. and he did. 74 games in the season, 13 games in playoffs, a seven game finals series, and a stanley cup ring. then two more seasons under his belt, and he even made it back to the finals in 2013, but they lost six to chicago. and then things started to fall apart. boston trades him to dallas and the rumours and speculations follow him, saying he would rather party than practice and doubting his dedication to his team and it's just a really bad look when a team dumps a SOA after only three years, after winning a cup with him, after making it to the finals twice with him. bad look. but it's okay. he comes to dallas and the team help him build a home here and he finds a best friend in this guy who is about to become his captain too. something in dallas clearly clicked a switch in his brain, because he started playing beautiful hockey and his name and jamies are being tossed around together like crosby and malkin, and kane and toews, and ovechkin and backstrom. they were supposed to be winners together. supposed to make history, together. but dallas isn't like boston and they don't win immediately but it's fine because they're building something great still and tyler is willing to wait for that. he wants to win here too. he grows into himself as a person and as a leader and he eventually gets an A and he looks after rookies on and off the ice and he helps them avoid the same mistakes he made when he was just a kid with too much money and the world at his fingertips and dallas stars getting better and making deeper runs and then its 2020 and hes finally back. tyler seguin and the stanley cup finals meet once again. and tyler is the guy they're turning to for advice because he's the only guy who has been to the finals more than once in his career and he has a cup and there's not many other guys on the team who have that either. and they lose in six. and now its 2023 and a lot has changed. aside from jamie, he's been on the team the longest. and it's game three of the western conference finals and the captain just took a stupid penalty and got himself ejected from the game and everything falls apart again. the game goes to shit and they're down 3-0 in the series and jamie is suspended for two games but. but. they win those two games. they win and they win and then jamie is back and. they lose. 6-0. and his season ends in may.
#asked and answered#anonymous#long post#i wrote my tags first actually#and i basically said i dont have segs brain rot anymore because i left it behind in 2019#which is still mostly true#but apparently i still have enough left for. gestures. all of this
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@prscttss: ❝ you wanna lose a limb? beat it, fucker. ❞ / for garrett
⸻ garrett licked his lips to hide the proud grin that stretched along his lips when nathan shoved his way in. the hockey player hadn't even even been the one that initiated the conversation. people just walked up to him because he was garrett graham -- boston bruin's prized player and son of the nhl legend. hell, he was even used to people flirting relentlessly much like the guy before him had been doing. until nathan showed up. "you heard him. keep it walking," he finally piped up, shrugging his shoulders non committedly at the other. "he speaks for me now."
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Resharing this but if you're a professional sports writer complaining about your team's shortcomings despite having won 3 Stanley Cups, 4 Finals appearances, 3 division titles, and 16 straight postseason appearances just because of a single first round series loss where it would ultimately not matter if the series winner doesn't win the Cup and surely be forgotten in a month, I don't know what to tell you but be grateful with what you have. Say the same things to teams that have long Cup / playoff droughts and I'm 100% sure you won't have a good time. There are teams that will literally give up everything for a single series win, let alone a Finals appearance and a Cup. There are teams that made the SCF only to be crushed after coming this close to their dream. Ask them how they'll feel if they read that ridiculous tweet of yours complaining about your team losing in the first round despite taking a Vezina candidate's team to a seven games when everyone bet on us getting swept. Their team went to the ECF 3x in 4 years (2012, 2014, 2015) and ended their season with no Cups. The Isles went to back to back ECFs after 27 years and ended their season empty handed. The Bruins had Bergy, Marchand, Tuukka, Chara all at one point, went to 3 SCFs and won just one Cup. Even the Avs haven't gone to a Conference Final since 2001, came really close in 2020 until the Kiviranta hat trick and now will literally give up everything to get over the hump. I can't stress this enough: be grateful with what you have. Thank you and let's go Pens.
⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️
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#AHL#AmericanHockeyLeague#AndresAmbühl#BridgeportIslanders#CincinnatiCyclones#ECHL#HartfordWhalers#HartfordWolfPack#JakeLeschyshyn#NationalHockeyLeague#NewYorkIslanders#NewYorkRangers#NHL#TampaBayLightning#UConn#WorcesterRailers#XLCenter
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So I just realized that no matter how this ends I’m going to miss the rest of the playoffs and if you think I’m not upset to the point of tears you’d be wrong.
#bruins lb#boston bruins#rant#i just#this is the first time i’ll see the bruins play in the stanley cup ayoffs#and win or lose in 6 or 7#i’ wont be able to watch the games all because of a fucking trip i dont want to go on#there i said it i dont want to go on it#and fuck me if i come across any other way because then im so much of an asshole i wont be able yo live with myself#but this is my first ever finals#and i need something- i need to see something good because this season has been hell in terms of my personal shit#but i guess if we lose itll be ok because i wont see it#but if we win i will never forgive ******** and ***** for missing it
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Vaincre
part iv
~
October
We fell in love in October
That's why, I love fall
Looking at the stars
Admiring from afar
~
Hey everyone, welcome to Puck Drop Podcast. Today’s hot topic—well, it’s still the Lions. Here’s what I think. That Black Lupin two-tap was fantastic. Right, Mike?
It was, it was.
But here’s the thing—I think that’s going to make a lot of people okay with Lupin being, well, let’s be real, I might call it fast tracked to the NHL.
Fast tracked, Henry? I don’t know, the kid had all the qualifications.
Fine, fine, but I do gotta say…if Lupin doesn’t play well…what’s gonna happen then? With Coach Weasley, with Black, with the organization. I just think we’re on a slippery slope here—
~
“Jesus Christ, Pots,” Finn shouted. “Take my fucking eye out, why don’t you!”
James looked uneasily at the golf club in his hands. “Sorry. Wow, sorry.”
Logan just clicked his tongue. “I thought we were allowed to play golf because it isn’t dangerous.”
“That is why,” Finn said, and pointed at James. “Until this untamed, grass-bouncing, metal-swinging—”
“All right, all right,” Sirius chuckled.
“We’re drawing eyes, boys,” Remus said from his golf cart. He had his feet up on the seat and an iced tea in his hands.
Logan glanced at the party ahead of them. “Harzy, am I gonna have to buy some lady a cheeseburger from the clubhouse again?”
Finn just held up his hands in surrender.
“You know,” Leo said once Logan joined him in the cart they were sharing.
“Ouais, mon soleil?”
Leo smiled, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses, then tapped his palm. “Didn’t think I’d ever find a golf glove attractive, and yet there Harzy stands.”
“Plaid pants and all,” Logan nodded.
“Those’re checkered, baby.”
Logan looked again. “Oh.” He shrugged. “Want to ditch and get a cheeseburger?”
Leo laughed. “Why did we come if we don’t play?”
Logan smiled, flipping his hat backwards and starting the engine. “To watch Harzy and Cap get competitive and James lose.”
Leo shook his head, then leaned back in his seat. “Loops, clubhouse, burgers.”
“Oh, thank God,” Remus said. “Bye, Black.”
Sirius raised his club. “Don’t you want to watch me win?”
“I am convinced this game can’t be won,” Remus said, and followed Logan and Leo’s cart in his own.
“The real win,” Remus said, squirting mustard onto his burger. “Would have been not getting up at seven in the morning to trip over sprinklers.”
“Preach,” Leo nodded. “Hey, what are you and Cap thinking for Halloween?”
Remus chewed thoughtfully. “Haven’t really started thinking yet. You?”
Logan snorted, stealing the mustard. “Knutty’s obsessed.”
“What?” Leo said. “I was a lonely rookie last year! Now I’m a…” he glanced around. “Non-rookie.”
Logan’s heart pulled at the correction. He nudged his knee against Leo’s beneath the table and felt Leo nudge back. Remus seemed to catch the brief silence.
“Watch Sirius make me dress up as the Stanley Cup,” he said.
Logan laughed. “Non, you’ve never won it, you can’t touch it. He’ll be the Cup, you’ll be him.”
Remus wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting.”
“I’m with Lo. He’s too superstitious,” Leo said. “No way.”
Remus gestured between them. “Three Musketeers?”
“Finn and Leo with a sword,” Logan said skeptically.
“What?” Leo smirked, resting a chin on his palm. “You don’t trust me with a sword?”
Logan snorted, pushing his palm into Leo’s cheek.
The doors to the club house restaurant sprung open.
“Victory is mine!” Finn shouted, and actually spun on his heel in a complete circle. “Victory is mine.”
Sirius slouched dejectedly into their booth beside Remus.
“Sorry, baby,” Remus laughed.
“Apparently he drinks from the keg of glory,” James sighed.
“It’s a quote,” Leo laughed.
“Muffins,” Finn grinned. “Bagels. Actually, burgers will do.”
Logan watched as Finn reached over and grabbed a fry from Leo’s plate and a bite of Logan’s burger. It was something they had started doing a lot—a public closeness they could always get away with. Finn unstrapped his golf glove slowly and close to Sirius’ face, who slapped it away.
“You’re not going to dress up as the Stanley Cup, are you?” Remus asked, turning his plate so his fries were in Sirius’ reach.
Sirius took his hat off to push his hair back before replacing it again and grabbing a fry. “Quoi?”
Remus looked at Leo and shrugged.
“Harz, do you trust me with a sword?” Leo asked Finn.
Finn smiled, dropping his voice low and flashing that crooked smile Logan had always fallen for. “You know I do.”
Logan just sent his eyes towards the sky, but his chest warmed at the smitten look Leo got, too, and he hailed a waiter for more food.
“Damn,” Finn said as their front door shut behind them. “Who said it was a good idea to go golfing in October? What do you say I mix us up some nice whiskey-warming manhattans?” He tossed his keys down and wrapped Logan up, arms around his waist and pressed a quick and hard kiss to his mouth. “Extra cherries for you, mon cherry.”
“Chéri,” Logan corrected, but he smiled into Finn’s next kiss, which was much gentler.
“Please,” Leo said, flopping down onto the couch. “That was the longest day of my life.”
“I can make it up to you with the longest night of your life,” Finn said, resting a cheek on Logan’s head. “Or we can.”
Leo smiled and stretched a little sleepily, pointing his toes. “I’ll take my whiskey first.”
Finn snorted and tweaked Leo’s socked feet. “You got it.”
Logan slid into a seat at their countertop. “Remember those ones at that bar you found in, where, were we visiting my family in Canada?”
Finn, reaching into the bar cupboard he kept meticulously organized, let out a whiskey. “I’d give that bartender anything she wants for that recipe.”
Logan sent Leo raised eyebrows, who snorted and looked back.
“Oh, would you now, O’Hara?” Leo laughed.
Finn looked up from scooping ice from the freezer. “Almost anything. Although, she was beautiful. Reminded me of this girl I dated for a second in college. Remember Hannah, Lo?”
“Oh, I remember Hannah,” Logan grumbled, and Finn kissed his fingers before reaching cross the counter to press them to Logan’s forehead. Logan just smiled—and he could smile about it now, sometimes—and patted the stool beside him with a look at Leo.
Leo pulled himself up with big eyes. “My crush wants me to sit next to him.”
Logan took out his phone with a playful glare. “You’re both sarcastic today.”
“It’s the golf,” Leo said dryly and slid into the seat next to Logan. “And you’re sweet.”
“I just like it when we all sit together,” Logan shrugged.
Leo laughed, hooking his feet around the legs of Logan’s stool to pull him closer. “How is someone so lovingly grumpy?”
“Please,” Finn said, stirring their drink. “Look at him. He uses it to get affection.”
Logan just smiled and reached for one of the crackers Finn put out before holding it up to pop into Leo’s mouth.
Finn sighed as he poured their drinks. “All right, I know golf’s not your thing. Thanks for coming with me, though.”
“Believe me,” Leo said. “It was worth it, you cocky golf glove.”
Finn snorted.
“Plaid,” Logan nodded.
“Checkered,” Leo amended.
“Ouais. Same thing.”
“No,” Finn said, looking up from their drinks, and Logan grinned, wrapping his arms around Leo’s waist.
“Non?” he asked.
Finn just slid their glasses towards them. “You’re fucking with me, Tremblay. Now, cheers to…”
Leo raised his glass, the other hand playing with the hem of Logan’s shirt. “Ring ceremony in a few days.”
Logan eyed the syrupy cherries at the bottom of his drink. Finn had given him two. He took a sip and let the thick sugar settle over his tongue.
“Can we display ours?” Finn asked, leaning his elbows on the counter. “All three in a row. I like that.”
Leo winced. “So many diamonds.”
“Why are you flinching at that?” Logan laughed.
“I don’t know, it feels flashy?” Leo took another sip.
Logan just pressed his nose against Leo’s jaw. “We deserve it.”
Leo smiled and turned into it, accepting a soft kiss.
“Jesus, Harz, how much syrup did you put in his drink?” Leo said, but gave Logan another quick peck.
“Probably not enough,” Finn laughed, and came around the counter. “I need to sit, my golf muscles hurt.”
“Right, those big things,” Leo said.
Finn just gave his own butt a tap and fell into their oversized couch. Even with all the space, they all still ended up pushed up against each other in one corner. Logan loved that more than he’d ever said out loud.
“Sweatshirt,” he said, and dropped another kiss to Leo’s cheek, took another sip of his drink and padded out of the room. He let his belt clink to the floor along with his pants and yanked his polo shirt over his head. His necklace got caught briefly in one of the buttons. He turned when two hands pressed to his hips from behind.
Leo pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then the top notch of his spine. “Want one of mine?”
Logan leaned back against him. “Ouais, thanks.”
But Leo didn’t move right away, just wrapped Logan up tighter. He pressed his nose into Logan’s neck and inhaled. Logan reached back and up, scratching at the hair that curled against Leo’s neck.
“Can I ask something?” Leo said, words muffled by his skin.
Logan stayed where Leo obviously wanted him, fingers kneading the back of his neck gently.
“Do you think coach is gonna start me?”
“In the opener?” Logan asked, and Leo hummed.
“Kasey thinks so,” he said. “Because it’s Bruins and I play okay against them.”
“You kill against them,” Logan said, and Leo finally pulled back with a last squeeze to Logan’s hip. He was quiet as he found the sweatshirt he knew Logan liked, and tossed it to him.
“Leo,” Logan prompted after he’d pulled it over his head.
“I know, I know,” Leo said, and smiled, rubbing a hand over his face. “God, I love the way you say my name.”
“And you call me the subject changer,” Logan raised an eyebrow.
“I just don’t think he will,” Leo said, crossing his arms as they walked back out to the living room. “I mean, I wish. I hope.”
Finn was sprawled out across the couch. He’d brought Leo and Logan’s glasses over and Logan took another sip of the warm whiskey before curling against one of Finn’s sides, Leo stretching his legs into Finn’s lap.
“What’s happening?” Finn asked, thumb rubbing against Leo’s ankle, knowing they got sore.
“Just thinking about the season,” Leo said. “Kasey said he thinks I’ll start. I can’t imagine why.”
Finn frowned. “Well, if Kasey was gonna be gone, he’d be gone. With the thigh, with the crazy off-season. I mean, the League’s shifting around there’s no doubt about that. I think it’s calming down now, though.”
Logan curled closer to Finn, reaching out for Leo’s foot, too, tracing the shape of the nike logo across the top of his sock.
“And Kase’s the starter,” Finn said. “That’s what the organization knows, that’s what the city knows. I…I say this with all the love for your skill, baby, but I’d be surprised if it isn’t Kasey.”
Leo nodded. “No, don’t worry, that’s what I think, too. I just…”
He trailed off and Logan gave his ankle a tug, making him sit up.
“Go ahead,” he said.
“Is this about bench time?” Finn asked.
Leo groaned. “I feel like such a fucking whiner saying it.”
“You can say literally anything to us,” Logan said, then smiled. “Leo.”
Leo just flopped his cheek against Finn’s chest.
“Maybe you’ll feel a little better once we get our rings,” Finn laughed, fingers running through Leo’s hair. “I know I will. I feel like…” Finn hesitated. “I don’t know. Every time I think about our ring, and our Cup days…I feel like I’ll never play the same again.”
Logan made an affirmative sound. “Yeah.”
“Really?” Leo mumbled.
“Nervous,” Logan nodded. “It all feels different. I thought it was Loops for a bit, but…Harzy, you’re right, I think it’s the Cup. I feel…I want it all over again, but it feels impossible.”
“I also…” Finn hesitated, stroking his hands through Leo’s hair a few more times, watching the blond curls slip through his fingers. “I loved our summer so much. I feel sort of guilty but…I miss it.”
Leo let out a soft laugh. “Thank God, me, too.”
“We get more of those,” Logan said, and it felt a little defensive.
“I feel selfish,” Finn said thoughtfully. “I have everything I want, and I want it again.”
“That’s not selfish,” Leo replied. “I think…I think that’s just human.”
Logan thought of the picture in Finn’s pocket and Harvard parties. He thought of long nights on the road, laughing with Leo over their sundaes. Logan had both wanted that over and over, but it had felt a little like poking himself with the tip of a knife over and over, too. He closed his eyes and let himself listen to them talk. Finn was agreeing, and then Leo was laughing. They ordered dinner for delivery, the Greek place down the street, and then sat in each other’s silence. Logan could tell Leo was still thinking about the season, watching the city lights out the window with Logan’s head in his lap. Logan stared up at him, at his blue eyes, dark in the dim light. His jaw would twitch every once in a while, a muscle clenched. Finn had a book open, slouched at the other end of the sofa.
Leo probably wouldn’t sleep well tonight, but sometimes Logan looked forward to their time in the dark together. Ankles tangled, eyes closed but knowing the other one was awake. They’d talk sleepily about the next day, until Logan decided enough was enough and he’d pull Leo against his chest, tucking the taller blond’s head beneath his chin for once.
Leo would hum contently. “What did I do before you, hm?”
Logan would smile. He used to listen to Leo toss and turn from one bed over, and now there was this. He loved that like air, too.
~
“Hey, rookie! Hold the door?”
Cole turned to see Thomas and his crutches, which seemed familiar now from him always sitting on the bench during practice. He was flanked by two people who could only be his parents.
His mother hit him lightly on the shoulder, laughing. “He’s got a name, Tom.”
“Hey, man, of course,” Cole said and looked down at Katie, who was holding his hand. “Gotta switch hands, okay?”
“No, I can do it,” Katie said, and flattened her back against the door. “Does it hurt all the time, Talkie?”
Thomas smiled down at her. “No, not all the time.” Thomas looked up and sent Cole one of his bright smiles. “Thanks. Sick tat, by the way. I don’t think I’ve said, but I’ve thought it.”
Cole’s hand instinctively went to his collarbone as he let the door to Olivander’s Hotel swing shut behind them. “Thanks. It’s my number.” He huffed out a laugh. “I mean, obviously.”
“I’ve been thinking about getting one,” Thomas said, and wedged a crutch under his arm and tapped the center of his chest. “Not sure where, but I like the chest as a place to start.”
Cole smiled, nodding. “I—me too. Yeah, maybe we could…like, go together, or something. I was reading some stuff about the best places, and also Nado was telling me. Well, trying to tell me.”
Thomas laughed. “Kuny kept interrupting?”
Cole laughed, too, nodding. “In Russian, though.”
“That sounds like Kuns,” Thomas said. “And yeah, man, I’d love to. Do you have any ideas?”
Cole shrugged as he and Thomas showed their IDs, the Dumais’ and Walkers chatting behind them. “Hopefully something about Lord Stanley one day, but right now…maybe something for my mom.”
Thomas nodded. “She coming today?”
Cole nodded, not able to help his smile, turning his phone over in his pocket. “Her flight was delayed but she shouldn’t miss anything.”
They walked through the lobby, joining much of the team that was already there. The large round tables reminded Cole of a wedding, and the stage was set with a podium for speeches with the numerous ring boxes behind.
“Cole!” came a familiar voice, and Cole spun around to find his mother walking through the double-doors, as if talking about her had made her appear. He wished he had that power. Blake Reyes was in her usual bright colors, her dark hair slicked up into a bun that let her tight curls spill over her forehead like bouncing bangs.
“Be right back,” Cole said, and Thomas nodded, tapping his shin with his crutch.
“Mom,” Cole grinned, and wrapped her up tight. He’d been taller than her for years, but it still felt strange. The soft curves of her were familiar, though. “You made it. Okay flight?”
“Yeah, yeah, read my book,” she said, and pulled back to look around. “This place is nice. How are you, baby?”
“Olivander’s Hotel,” Cole said. “Apparently different places were fighting to have the ring ceremony. I’m fine.” He shrugged. “Feels kind of weird being here.”
“Maybe you’ll be getting one of those rings next year, hm?” she smiled.
“Maybe,” Cole laughed, and then, more timidly, asked, “Dad?”
Blake’s expression tightened, eyes sad. “No, sweetheart. I…I’m sorry. He’s…”
“You don’t have to explain,” Cole gave a short shake of his head. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” she sighed. “But it’s…”
“Come on,” Cole said. “I’ll introduce you to Dumo and Celeste.”
His mother grinned. “Oh, my shy boy is growing up.”
“Shh,” Cole laughed. “Don’t say that to Sirius Black.”
“Say what to Sirius Black?”
Sirius strode beside him, hand in hand with Remus. It was Remus who had spoken, and grinned now, and Cole flushed at the good-natured chirp. Sirius just offered a shy hand to his mother.
Cole had a wave of surreality wash over him for what felt like the thousandth time as he watched his mother say call me Blake to Sirius Black, who he’d had on his wall for God’s sake.
It happened all anew once they were ushered into the ballroom for the presentation of the Stanley Cup champion rings. The team and management had been called up one by one, but they opened their boxes together. Cole wouldn’t get one, but he leaned over to see Finn’s, whose mother seemed to love his own, their heads bent close together, giggling. The ring was square in shape, too big to be worn on any practical day, and covered in small diamonds, some stones colored red and black to make the Lion. The golden band was engraved with name, number, year, and, of course, champion. The word took the air out of the room.
Finn blew out a shaky, awed breath, and Cole watched him look up, something like tears in his eyes. When he followed his gaze, Cole found him looking at Logan. It made sense, and made Cole even happier for the team. Finn and Logan had probably been dreaming of this since their college days together. Cole looked back at Finn to ask him about it, when Finn mouthed something that, to Cole, looked very much like the words love you.
Cole blinked, but Finn was leaning his chair back on two legs, then, whistling two notes that got Leo’s attention. Leo, who was crying—an act that made him look even more like his dad, sitting beside him and crying, too—let out a wet laugh and wiggled his fingers at Finn which he had put the heavy ring on.
“One day, huh, Cole?”
Cole looked at Mr. O’Hara, who was smiling kindly at him.
“Oh, yes,” his mother answered for him. “One day.”
One day. Cole wanted to believe it.
~
Well, folks, here we are. We here in the studio welcome you to The Lions pre-game show. Dean, opening thoughts?
Well, we’re up against the Bruins, who had a phenomenal season last year. And, of course, we’ll see some fun rivalries tonight. Marchand has never been a Gryffindor favorite.
Is he anyone’s?
Ha, all right, there, Lee, all right. The real point is we’ll have a full stadium, and this game is ready to set the tone for the season. I’m ready, Lee, are you?
Oh, you bet.
Sirius found Remus sitting with Layla, legs swinging slightly from his perch on the PT bench. Worry tweaked through him at first, until he realized that they were laughing together.
Sirius knocked lightly on the door. “Hi.”
Layla looked up, still mid-laugh. “Oh, hey, Cap, come on in.”
“Just wondering where you went,” Sirius said, leaning beside Remus.
Remus shrugged, looking around the room. “I don’t know, this is where I spent every other pre-game. Felt right, I guess. I was coming back soon.” He knocked their shoulders together playfully. “You left your stretches to come find me?”
Layla made a cooing noise as she opened the door. “Gotta get this to Kasey, be right back.”
Remus’ expression morphed into one of concern. “Is it the—”
Layla put up a hand to stop him. She pointed to herself. “PT,” then to Remus. “Winger.”
Remus looked sheepish. “Right. Sorry.”
Sirius sent her a smile, but looked back to Remus. Remus pulled him in closer, allowing Sirius to be boxed in by his thighs.
“It’s a big night,” Sirius said, and pressed a light kiss to his mouth. “A good night. I wanted to be by your side.”
“Bruins,” Remus whistled lowly. “Let’s take ‘em.”
Sirius laughed, squeezing his hips. “I thought you were going say you’re worried.”
“What, about an original six team?” Remus laughed. “We’re the Lions.”
“Coach might put us out there together again,” Sirius said. “After pre-season.”
Remus ran his hands through Sirius’ hair. “My mind-reader.”
Sirius smiled, leaning forward to nip gently at Remus’ lower lip. “What am I thinking now?”
“That this is not your office, lovebirds,” Lars’ voice came. Sirius turned to look, only to see that he wore his usual strangely soft-stony expression. “I believe that’d be the front of the net for you, Black.”
Remus laughed, sliding from the table. “Sorry, man, we’ll get out of your way.”
Lars just looked down at a chart he held. “Black, stay a minute?”
Sirius paused, glancing down at Remus. “Uh, sure.”
Remus sent him a quick smile and slipped out the door.
“What’s up?” Sirius asked, crossing his arms.
Lars folded the pages of the clipboard back and set it on the counter. “I was trying to get you earlier, but it says there that you utilize the sports psychologist.”
Sirius nodded. “Yeah. Heather’s been a big help to me.”
Lars nodded. “I’m not here to violate any confidentiality, I just need to know if you’re still with her regularly. This chart stops a few months before Lupin left. Is that correct?”
Sirius tilted his head. “Why do you…”
“If something happens, I like to know who is familiar with her and who is not, that way I can know who I can help and in what way. Mental health is just as important as physical health.”
That made Sirius relax a little. “Not as regularly, no.”
“Great, thank you,” Lars nodded.
Sirius offered a slight smile as he slipped out the door. Lars was direct and to the point in a way that often came with a new job. It reminded Sirius of Remus’ first days with the organization, trying to be as professional as possible. It was true, he hadn’t seen Heather over the summer at all, nor too much once their Cup run had begun. He smiled a little when he realized that he missed her.
Remus was strapping his pads over his bare chest when Sirius entered the locker room. He raised an eyebrow, and Sirius flashed him a thumbs up. James was talking to Thomas as he laced up his skates, Thomas gesturing with his crutches.
Sirius, finished with his routines with his eyes passing around the room. He found himself nervous in a way he hadn’t been for a few years now. The season after a Cup win was always strange for any team. He felt the old sting of you did it once, do it again. They way he used to feel about goals—about any good thing. That it only mattered if he could repeat.
He blinked against the onslaught, it brought heat to his cheeks.
You did it once, do it again.
“Hey,” James’ voice cut through, his hand on Sirius’ shoulder.
Sirius looked over at him, panic beginning to tickle his throat. He took a slow breath through it. “Quoi?”
James dangled his phone by two fingers like an enticing treat. “Want to see Harry pictures?”
Sirius’ mouth lifted. He scooted over a little in his stall, leaning in. He put his hand over James’ and squeezed. “Yeah. Ouais, please, I do.”
They made it through four before James looked over at him, contents replacing his glasses for the game.
“You’re good,” James said. “We’re all here.”
Sirius could only smile back.
~
Remus pushed away the nerves and let the crowd wash over him as, side by side with Cole, they took their first laps around Hogwarts stadium. It was their home opener.
Remus had only dreamed of this.
“Pretty perfect,” Cole shouted over the noise, and they grinned at each other before each shooting a puck into the empty net.
Before the game could begin, they would hoist the banner for their Cup win into the rafters to accompany the two others, won in 1941 and 1970. Hogwarts dimmed its lights, Remus stood between Sirius and Pascal, keeping his muscles warm, and a video began to play on the big screen.
“You know,” Pascal’s voice filled the stadium, much to the delight of the fans. His kind face appeared on the screen in an interview chair, the Lions’ logo out of focus in the background. He shrugged a broad shoulder and scratched a hand idly through they graying scruff on his cheek. “I wait for this all my life, and then I want more,” He let out a short laugh. “I’m the old guy, non? I love to succeed with my friends, my family.”
Logan was next, green eyes shy and watchful. Looking at him, you’d never guess at the fire beneath.
“It’s…” he began, and shifted in the way he did in front of the cameras. “It means more because of our team. We were lucky that it’s mostly the same guys this year.” A smile, a glimpse of fire. “Let’s do it again.”
The stadium roared and continued to do as Sirius appeared next. They’d filmed it a few days after all of the celebrations had ended, hoping to catch everyone before they left for vacation.
“It was everything to be asked to wear the C,” Sirius said. “And this team…I’ve changed a lot with them. Each and every one of them deserves this more than anything.”
“Proud Captain!” Finn’s voice could be heard off-camera, and then Remus heard his own laugh. He hadn’t even known he was going to be a Lion at this point.
Sirius shrugged. “Ouais? Yes, yes, of course.”
James, glasses winking in the camera’s lights, talked about his family, and then the banner was being raised to the cheers of the stadium, fans pounding on the glass. Remus spared one glance to the Bruins, who had to sit silently on their bench through it all, but just smiled.
He wanted a Cup. He wanted it on the ice this time.
The national anthem played, and Remus felt Sirius’ presence close to his back, even while he watched Finn drape his usual hand over Logan’s shoulder.
“Mon Loup,” Sirius whispered.
Remus turned his head slightly.
“Love you.”
Remus smiled. The words were just breath, most likely Sirius wanting the moment to be private, to avoid the camera reading his lips. Remus turned fully around as the lights came up, just before Sirius was due to jump the boards for a face off.
“Love you,” he said, and Sirius grinned.
Bergeron won the first and carried it easily up towards Kasey, only for Olli to intercept his pass. Sirius caught it on his stick, shot it to James—
Coach called his number, along with Jackson’s and Evgeni’s.
Remus hopped the boards and the whistle blew.
“Too many men!” the ref shouted with his crossed arms.
Remus blinked, coming to a stop. He looked back towards the bench, where he was being motioned back.
“Eh, confused there, Lupin?” Marchand called, which got him a hard shove in the back from Evgeni.
“You confused,” Evgeni said in his deep voice, and the whistle blew to re-set.
Remus tried not to blush as he skated to line up for the face-off, but he was surprised. He’d looked, hadn’t he? He hadn’t misheard? It was a bad change, that was all.
Evgeni won it, but Remus flubbed his pass and Pastrnak scooped it up the ice and scored an early goal in Kasey’s glove.
Remus closed his eyes briefly, then flashed them open, hoping the camera hadn’t caught it. Hockey was fast.
Remus took a slow breath as Coach called him off the ice as quickly as he had been put on. As he slid onto the bench he felt Arthur give him a hard, encouraging thump on the back. That still wasn’t how he wanted to open his season, his career as a Lion.
“Loops.”
Remus looked up and accepted the helmet bump from Finn.
“I’m good,” Remus said. “Little startled, I guess. I’m fine.”
But he played three more shifts in the first.
The locker room was normal, buzzed off of the adrenaline, and Remus sat down in his stall, trying to ignore the way James and Sirius were dripping with sweat and he wasn’t. He sent Sirius a smile but otherwise kept his head down, not really wanting to talk. He remembered this from college. Everyone called him levelheaded, but he was as bad as Sirius was when it came to emotions on the ice—even if he hoped he hid it well.
“Yo.”
Thomas eased himself down into his stall beside Remus with a grunt, and propped his crutches beside him.
“Hey,” Remus said, then, unable to help himself—it was Thomas, after all—asked, “Did it all look as bad from the box?”
“Re, it’s your first shift of your first NHL game,” Thomas said, slinging an arm around Remus’ shoulders. “The big lights get everyone. Even Remus Lupin.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Remus said, running a towel over his face. “I don’t know.”
And he didn’t. He glanced towards Sirius, but he wasn’t looking at him, determinedly re-tying his skates and still talking to James. Remus didn’t want to say he’d expected some comfort, but he didn’t much like the the silence, either.
Thomas clapped him on the back. “Worry just makes it worse, yeah?”
Remus nodded. “Yeah, my specialty.” He smiled. “I’ll be fine. It’s just one game. Thanks, T.”
Remus rose as they were called back out onto the ice, pushing his helmet back on and lingering a bit to take his place just in front of Sirius. He watched as Sirius hyped his team up, cracking jokes and tapping sticks. The perfect captain. Remus reached him with a strange feeling. It wasn’t until Sirius’ eyes found his that he realized he felt like he’d let Sirius down. He blinked, startled, heart beating quicker with the added nerves of not wanting to feel that way.
Sirius just smiled, softer, his smile saved only for Remus, and pressed their foreheads together.
“Love you,” Sirius whispered.
“I’m sorry,” Remus blurted, and that hadn’t been what he meant to say.
Sirius’ expression immediately morphed into one of concern. “Re, non…” he glanced at the staff lingering about.
Remus didn’t want to talk about it here, not where people could hear.
“Love you,” he said, and ducked through the tunnel.
~
Remus was ready for October to be over. He tried to breathe through it—this happened sometimes, slumps were part of hockey—but the timing couldn’t have been worse.
Marlene tried to keep him away from the worst of the press, and Remus tried not to look, but she couldn’t stop what reporters he did do media with from asking the hard questions. How did he feel about his performance? Or, the even worse occasional one—how did he think Sirius felt about it?
If someone asked Sirius that, he went back to his unreadable, stony expression and gave them nothing. Remus only wished he had such a poker face.
“Re,” Sirius called from the bedroom. “Almost ready?”
Remus took a breath and tried to push thoughts of hockey away, laughing a little at himself in the mirror.
“If you are.”
“Really really not ready,” Sirius laughed and entered their closet. He let out a groan. “I knew I was going to find this hot.”
“I am not,” Remus said. “Jeez, it’s ridiculous.” He turned this way and that, looking at his swede, fringed pants, cowboy boots, and wide brimmed hat. “The vest, too. Now you on the other hand…”
Sirius sent Remus a sheepish smile and looked down at his Captain America costume. “I was going for irony.”
“Nothing ironic about Canada’s ass.”
Sirius rolled his eyes, but he was blushing as the doorbell rang downstairs.
Remus turned away from his reflection and looped his arms around Sirius’ neck for a hard kiss. “Show time, Captain.”
~
“Oh my god,” Remus heard Finn say over the kids’ halloween movie and the chatter from the kitchen as he swung the front door wide to his and Sirius’ house. “Oh my god, what is it with the PTs and the ref outfits? Remus, come look.”
Remus arrived in the entrance hall to Layla narrowing her eyes playfully—indeed dressed in an oversized referee shirt and cute, flared black jeans.
“We don’t get all the days off you guys do. Maybe its a lack of free time. Not to mention—” she rubbed her fingers together.
Finn laughed. “All right, point taken.”
“Come on in, Layla,” Remus said. “Ignore him.”
“Okay, cowboy,” Layla said, looking Remus up and down. “Damn.”
“Nothing for me?” Finn said, and spun in a slow, cocky circle, the black and yellow stripes of his costume, and his antennae bouncing.
Layla snorted, shaking her head. “What the hell are you?”
Finn looked offended. “I’m a bumble-bee. And Leo's the beekeeper, and Lo’s honey. Can’t miss him, he’s got a big, round foam honey jar on.”
“Ah,” Layla laughed. “Of course.”
“Come on,” Remus said. “I’ll get you a drink.”
Layla whistled as she followed him into the kitchen. “This house is huge.”
“Sirius bought it without a clue of what he wanted,” Remus said. “I’ve been trying to warm it up a bit.”
“It’s working,” Layla said, looking at the pictures that lined the walls. She pointed to the one of Sirius kissing Remus with the Cup. “God, I love this.”
Remus smiled, the memory flooding him with warmth. “Me, too.”
“Ooh,” Natalie, leaning back against Kasey’s chest, raised her glass to Remus. “Ride ‘em, cowboy.”
Remus fixed her with a wry look. “Are you going to say that every time I walk into a room?”
Natalie, sparkling in her finger-curls and 1920’s flapper dress, flashed a smile. “Yes.”
“She starts talking in an old Hollywood voice every time she sees me, so,” Kasey, looking broad in his old-fashioned suit, shrugged. “She’s not lying.”
Layla laughed. “I mean, I would, too, if I was dressed like that.”
Natalie grinned and walked over to loop her arm with Layla’s. “Let’s go see what movie the kids are watching now.”
“Yes,” Layla gasped. “Booze and Holloweentown.”
Remus watched the way Kasey looked after Natalie fondly as the girls disappeared.
“All good?” Remus asked, popping himself another beer.
“Hm?” Kasey looked up. “Oh, yeah. Just…looking. She’s leaving soon, for a couple weeks, to go see Alex.”
“That’s sweet. I’m sure he misses her.”
Kasey came to lean against the counter beside him with a long sigh. “Sometimes it feels like all we do is miss each other.” He paused, biting his lip. “Do you…do you ever feel like you have everything you’ve ever wanted, but that you’d still change something? Like…like there are multiple versions of your life that include certain things and not others…but you’d still have everything you’d ever want?”
Remus’ smiled a little. “I…I think I’ve lived that. I lost hockey for a bit…but I got Sirius.”
Kasey smiled. “Oh, yeah.”
“Feel lucky you feel that way,” Remus said. “I’m not sure its as common as we think.”
“Speaking of,” Kasey said. “Where’s your everything-you’ve-ever-wanted?”
Remus laughed loudly. “Uh, hmm.” He looked around, not actually sure of the last time he saw Sirius. “I don’t know. You’d think I’d remember the last time I saw those spandex.”
Kasey laughed too. “I’d think so.”
Remus pushed up. “I’ll find him.”
“Let him know dinner’s soon!” Sergei called from the back door. It let cool air in from where he was checking on the ribs, Celeste beside him with a martini, seemingly inspecting his BBQ sauce.
Remus watched Sergei wave her off, claiming it was secret, before turning up the stairs. He thought for a moment before turning towards their bedroom and smiled to himself when he saw the door was clicked open.
“I thought I might find you up here,” Remus said, setting his cup down. He looked around the small room. The shelves were empty of stray photographs now. Remus had hung them up all around the house as a surprise, and Sirius had come home one day to a hallway, living room, and kitchen full of them.
Sirius looked up from where he was sitting on the bed—just where he’d been sitting that night, one year ago. He’d left his shield somewhere—no doubt with Adele—and was turning a beer slowly between his palms.
“Just thinking,” Sirius said, then motioned down at the bed. “Sit with me?”
Remus settled close to him, and Sirius turned to press a gentle kiss to his temple. “How’s the party?”
“Good,” Remus nodded. “Kids are watching a movie. Apparently Nat’s going to visit Alex. God, that’d be hard.”
Sirius hummed in agreement.
“Oh,” Remus laughed, remembering. “Layla showed up dressed as a ref.”
“No,” Sirius grinned. “God. I feel like I opened the door for you yesterday.”
“Mm. Sexy fireman.”
“Oh?” Sirius said, then took Remus’ drink from him and set them down on the floor.
“What?” Remus asked, only for Sirius to flop back on the bed, pulling Remus with him.
“My hat,” Remus said half-heartedly, watching it tumble off the side of the bed.
Sirius just made a noncommittal sound and turned on his side, pressing up on an elbow to lean over Remus. Remus reached up to twirl a strand of his dark hair around his finger. He’d left it loose, curling at his chin.
“Captain Québécois,” Remus said and Sirius just rested a hand against his chest.
“A lot has happened in a year,” he whispered, the room dim around them and the laughter filtering up from downstairs. “Do you ever feel like we’ve known each other forever?”
Sirius had said that before, but Remus loved it just the same.
“I feel like I’ve known you forever, and I’d take one more forever, too,” Remus said.
Sirius leaned down for a quick kiss. “Me too.”
Remus reached into the tight material of Sirius’ costume for his 12 pendant, studying it in the dim light. He’d almost kissed Sirius right in this spot one year ago tonight. He’d felt so confident about it, about loving who he wanted to love, about that person being Sirius. He still felt that way, and he wished he felt the same now, in the rest of his life, on the team.
“Can I say something?” Sirius said.
“Hm?”
“Opening night,” Sirius said. “You said sorry.”
Remus flushed. “I know.”
Sirius cupped a palm against Remus’ cheek. “Re.”
“That’s not—that’s not really what I meant,” Remus said, eyes on the twelve. “We don’t really have to talk about it now, we should probably go back down. Sergei said to tell you that dinner’s almost ready.” Remus tried for a smile. “He won’t share his secret sauce with Celeste.”
Sirius tilted his head, expression flickering as Remus pressed a lingering kiss to Sirius’ mouth and sat up, picking up his drink.
“Should we go down?” Remus said it in one breath, holding out his hand. “Logan’s wearing a giant honeypot and I really need a picture.”
Sirius locked their fingers together, concern still lacing his features even as he smiled. “I’ll sneak one. I’ll hand him Katie. He can never resist her.”
Remus laughed as they walked down the stairs hand in hand. “That’s true.”
Sirius pulled him back with a gentle tug before on the landing before they could rejoin the team.
“We don’t have to talk about it. And I know these games have been rough,” Sirius said, and Remus bit his lip as he looked up at him. “But I’m so proud of you. And I love you.”
Remus couldn’t help but lean back into his chest. I feel like I’m letting you down. The words echoed in his head, but he couldn’t quite force them out. I feel like I’m letting all of you down.
“I’m proud of you, too,” Remus said, and despite his thoughts, his smile was real as Sirius kissed him and led him back to their family.
#vaincre lumosinlove#sweater weather lumosinlove#wolfstar#woflstar fanfic#harry potter#Harry Potter fanfic#lumosinlove#sirius black#remus lupin#sirius x remus#remus x sirius#o'knutzy#jily#Thomas walker#Cole reyes#finn o'hara#Leo knut#Logan tremblay#Finn x Leo x Logan#the marauders#the marauders era
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