#always shows up to play his best hockey for team canada and i adore that

[blackandgoldandeverythingnice]

among the fields of gold - c. mcavoy

Pairing: Charlie McAvoy x female!OC

Summary: A little sneak peek into the future of charlie and nellie from i’m so glad to know as they attend the 2026 Olympics 

Word Count: 4,682

A/N: Just the most self-indulgent little fluff I could come up with because I love writing them.

Warnings: none! the smallest hint of adult content but that’s about it.

“This is so fucking cool – did you ever actually tell me how cool it was to be at the Olympics?” Charlie was bouncing along the streets of Milan and swinging Eleanora’s hand as they went, a couple of other Team USA players behind them as they used the off day to do the touristy things they hadn’t yet been able to do during the first round of games.

“You’ve done plenty of World’s before, it’s almost the same.”

“It absolutely is not.” He argued back, glancing down and smirking at the little scowl on her face. He ignored the groans of a couple from the guys at the fact they were about to start bickering. It wasn’t their fault; he didn’t invite the idiots to come with them.

“You’re just excited because you’re staying in the Village and there are a bunch of girls there too – you don’t get that at World’s.”

“Yeah, I’m there for the girls.” He rolled his eyes and squeezed her hand before leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

The team was housed on their own floor in the dedicated USA building and it was like being back on a road trip in Peewees. They’d cruised through the round-robin, winning every game in their group and were heading into the elimination games. A lot of the guys had played together for years through development camps and national teams and they felt good about their chances.

They’d been wandering the streets of Milan, seeing as much of the sites as they could since all they’d seen were the inside of rinks. While Charlie had wanted to spend it just with Eleanora, some of the guys had caught him in the lobby with her on their way back from breakfast and insisted on joining them. She had pretty much become their team mascot: at every game, made a new sign for each and chatted with all the families happily. It made something in him burst in pride at the sight of her fitting so seamlessly into his life now. It hadn’t been an easy road to get there.

“Can you two not?” one of the Hughes brothers interrupted.

“Yeah, let’s stop this before it really gets rolling.” Matthew Tkachuk cut in, sweeping past Charlie with a smirk as he hit his shoulder and made his way across the square towards the Duomo. A few of the other guys sped passed them, running around the square and changing pigeons.

“And for a former Olympian, could you walk any slower?” Auston Matthews teased as he came right up close behind them.

Annoyed, Charlie shoved his teammate away just as Eleanora pinched his side. “I’m sorry, put some respect on the only gold medalist in this little crew right now. Also, I’m six months pregnant, dick head – you try carrying a bowling ball around your middle on these cobblestone ass streets.”

“Technically, a McAvoy has a gold medal – shouldn’t have changed your last name, babe.” Auston grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders but making sure to gently guide her as they walked around the various tourists and other athletes who had done the same thing they did.  

“Can you get the fuck away from my wife?” Charlie groaned, checking Auston away so he could pull Eleanora into his side.

The rest of the guys walked ahead, leaving the two of them alone. Charlie smiled down at the way Eleanora was basking in the bright, cold air, her cheeks flushed and nose a little pink. There was a visible glow around her. He’d always thought it was bullshit when they said pregnant woman glowed but since the second she’d taken the test, there was a light happy aura around her. Walking with her tucked into him like she was slowed them down but Charlie liked making sure Eleanora was okay, to the point that she might kill him at some point if he asked her again how she was feeling.

“How are you – ”

“Don’t you dare ask how I feel right now, Charlie McAvoy.”

He pouted down at her. “It’s a valid question, they keep you scheduled so late for some of the media shit.”

“It’s called my job, babe.” She hip checked him gently. She’d stayed involved in the figure skating community and this year they’d invited her to provide commentary for the ladies’ singles. Turns out she was incredibly personable in front of the cameras and enjoyed talking to the young skaters. “I’m just happy none of your games conflict with the skating. I don’t think they’d love me ‘calling out sick’ only to have me show up on TV on the glass yelling at you to play better.”

“Excuse you, I have the most minutes played and highest rating.”

“Yes, baby – you’re very highly rated.” She snuggled into his side, and he laughed when she slid her hand into his back pocket and squeezed his ass.

The pair of them walked slowly around the square, laughing at the guys as they ran around. A few of Team Canada showed up along with a few of the Czech players. Since most of the teams were made up of NHLers, all the teams were friendly off-ice and trying to control them was like corralling kids at their first away tournament. A few fans stopped them as they went but most of them were interested in getting pictures with Eleanora rather than any of the guys, something the team loved to tease Charlie about. Joke was on them, he couldn’t be more proud to watch the way people adored her.

“How’s my boy doing?” he changed tactics as a group of young girls walked away after spending five minutes taking pictures with her and asking what it was like to win gold.

“I think he wants pizza and pasta.”

“Pizza and pasta? Not or?”

“You’re really gonna ask how I feel then judge your pregnant wife for wanting all the food?” the glare she shot him was enough to have him throwing his hands up in defense.

He leaned down to kiss her but she dodged him. “No way, bud – find me food then you can kiss me.”

“In my defense, I asked what my son wants to eat – you’re incidental to me checking up on him.”

“Do you want to die? Is that your plan? You want Team USA hockey to lose the gold because their captain was murdered by his pregnant wife?”

“Why’s Goldie threatening your life?” Jake popped up behind them, scaring the shit out of Charlie while Eleanora had seen him coming.

“He’s judging how much I want to eat.”

“Well, come on my fellow sewer rat – if Chuckie won’t love you right, I will.”

Jake offered her his hand and she took it, tossing a teasing smile behind her as the two of them started towards one of the side streets to find a suitable restaurant leaving Charlie to scurry after them.

--- ---

Eleanora chewed distractedly on her cuticle, staring at the clean sheet of ice waiting for the guys to step on for warmups. As she had for every single game, she was standing on the glass at the corner where her and his family had sat for the entirety of the tournament. The jersey of Charlie’s she had on barely fit over her belly and the maternity leggings made her feel like a sausage. Bouncing on the balls of her feet anxiously, she was as nervous as she’d been for her own gold medal skate.

“How’re you feeling?” a voice interrupted her nervous thoughts and she glanced over to see her father-in-law sliding into the seat next to her. After the first win, they’d sat in the same order they’d been in for every other game that followed. While Charlie wasn’t overly superstitious, Eleanora was and there’d been half a dozen little rituals she’d come up with for this Olympics.

“Jesus, your son ask you to ask me that?” she teased back at Charlie Sr. She rubbed her belly slightly and tried not to wince at the pain in her back. “Pretty sure this asshole is sitting right on my sciatic nerve.”

“Can you not call my first grandson an asshole?” Charlie’s mom appeared on her other side, looping her arm through hers. “But seriously, you alright?”

“No pain I haven’t dealt with before but this kid is already putting me through the wringer. I have to do this for 3 more months?”

Mrs. McAvoy frowned sympathetically and rubbed her arm softly. “Sorry, Ellie but yes. It’ll be worth it though.”

Just as she spoke, the guys stepped out and Eleanora zeroed in on Charlie leading the way, pushing the pucks off the edge of the bench and onto the ice.

“I can’t believe this – my son is going to be an Olympic medalist no matter what.” His mom said, sniffling slightly as she watched them start skating.

“We want gold, Jen – right, kid?” Senior nudged her in the side.

Eleanora smiled slightly. “I just want him to do the best he can.”

“Bullshit, you’re more competitive than he is. I saw you cursing him out last game for - and I quote - ‘a bullshit lazy turnover’.” Holly added as she joined the conversation, pushing her mom out of the seat next to Eleanora so she could keep the right lineup. 

They all laughed while she just shrugged. “No one plays for second place...although I do kinda like being the only gold medalist. It’s how I get him to do things for me when I think I deserve them.”

The noise in the arena started to swell as the Canadians took the ice and Eleanora felt the familiar buzz and thrill of the pressure building. She hadn’t been able to see Charlie this morning, only getting a quick FaceTime as she’d been wrapping up interviews with some of the figure skaters who were getting ready for their final performance the following day.

“How was he this morning?”  

Kayla shrugged. “Quiet. He missed you.”

She frowned, cursing herself for not having been there. It was their routine for the last few years, she was always the last person to see him before he went into the locker room for a big game. It felt like a bad omen that she’d missed giving him a last kiss before the biggest game of his career.

But just then Charlie skated by them for the first time, helmet off and his hair flowing behind him. He tapped the glass as he went by but kept skating in loops. After a couple laps and drills, he returned to the corner and stopped in front of her.

She couldn’t hear him over the crowd but he was pointing at her and gesturing halfway across the rink to where there was an opening in the boards. She followed where he was pointing to see one of the arena staff standing by the entrance to the locker rooms and she got the hint, squeezing through the seats as fast she could. The belly didn’t exactly help her move quickly or the people that kept trying to stop her.

He was already waiting for her by the time she reached the space, his gloves off and resting on the side. He reached out for her and she stepped eagerly towards him. On skates he was so much taller than her that she had to stand on tip toe just to wrap her arms around his neck. She was cognizant of the eyes of those in the area on them and she was sure there were cameras zooming in too.

“I couldn’t play the biggest game of my life without getting my good luck kiss.”

The stares and camera clicks faded away as she stared up at him. Knowing how the media was obsessed with “Their Story”, this was bound to be everywhere in no time. It’s why they liked their moment to be private before a game but right now, Eleanora couldn’t quite care because all she wanted was Charlie to win.

Gently, he brushed her stomach and just as he did, the baby gave a hard kick. Charlie grinned, leaning down to press his lips firmly to hers and she smiled into the kiss. “I think someone’s telling you he wants you to win.”

“I plan on winning it for his momma, gotta impress her.” He smirked, his face still inches from hers.

“I love you, baby – so fucking much.” She pressed one final kiss to his lips. “I’m not gonna tell you just making it to the gold medal game is an achievement – even though it is. You know what you need to do. Go fucking win it.”

“I shoulda had you do the pump-up speech for the boys.” He kissed her nose quickly before pulling back and grabbing his gloves to return to warmups. “I love you, babe – see you on the ice after.”

She watched him skate away, her palm flat against her belly and she felt another strong kick. Rubbing her stomach she looked down at the USA stretched across her front, smiling softly as she whispered to herself.

“Don’t worry, little man – daddy’s gonna win it for us.”

--- ---

The second period started with the game tied at two. Charlie had an assist and had already spent almost twelve minutes on the ice. Despite most of the off-ice friendships and even teammates who were playing against each other it was getting chippy. They all clearly wanted it and weren’t holding back. Tkachuk had managed to draw three penalties while only going to the box once himself.

Eleanora felt like she was going to lose her voice the amount she’d been screaming throughout the game. It seemed like part of Team Canada’s game strategy was to go after Charlie as much as possible. They’d been hitting him hard and there’d been one particularly nasty penalty he drew when Chabot leveled him with a late hit. Charlie had been slow to get up from that one but within the first thirty seconds of the powerplay, he’d put a pass right on Auston’s tape for the tying goal.

There had always been something both exhilarating and nerve-wracking about watching Charlie play. When he was on the ice, she only watched him, not even noticing where the puck was or what action was happening unless he was involved.

It was partially how she was able to react a second before the rest of the rink when she saw Chabot coming from behind him, hitting him hard and sending Charlie headfirst into the boards. He was splayed out flat on the ice while his teammates immediately rushed to his defense, Auston and Tkachuk jumping Chabot before Auston was pulled away by Dougie Hamilton. Eleanora felt like climbing over the glass to get to him and Kayla was gripping her arm tightly.

“Get up. Get up. Get up, Junior.” His dad was begging while Eleanora just kept staring in horror.

After what felt like hours but was probably only a minute, he slowly tucked his legs up under him and managed to get to a kneeling position just as the team doctor reached him. He was clearly still dazed, holding one hand on his helmet as he slowly got up. Gaudreau had come over and was kneeling next to him, offering to help him up but Charlie waved him off.

The arena applauded as he stood up, but Eleanora couldn’t feel the relief everyone else did as she watched them lead Charlie to the locker room.

“He’s okay. He got up on his own. They just have to check him out for protocol. He’s okay.” Kayla was chanting and all Eleanora wanted to do was rush to the locker room. Instead of watching the rest of the game, she stared at the locker room entrance, praying Charlie would return to the bench.

They ended the second period down by one and only during the intermission did she let herself pull her phone out to find the replay of the hit. They all huddled around together watching intently, only slightly reassured that Charlie had gotten up on his own and made his way quickly down the tunnel without support. It felt like time was moving in slow motion as the ice was cleaned. Finally, the lights dimmed again and the players started back out on the ice.

It felt like a weight was lifted when she saw Charlie hop out last, doing quick laps to warm back up as he shook his legs out. As he went by them, he tapped the glass and Eleanora felt like she was going to cry just from the quick wink he gave her.

“Thank god.” His mom sighed a breath and Eleanora felt lightheaded as she rubbed her stomach aimlessly. The baby had been active all game, bouncing around and kicking more than usual. It’s like he could sense what was happening around them.  

The third period wasn’t any less stressful, Team Canada was clearly content to play defense while Team USA threw everything at them but couldn’t seem to find the back of the net. But then in the last 27 seconds of the game, Charlie caught a pass from Quinn Hughes and buried it in the top corner of the net to tie the game. The roar of the arena felt deafening as they all jumped up and down, screaming happily while the players mobbed their captain. The crowd clearly expected overtime, neither team wanting to give one up in the remaining seconds of the game.

But then Conor McDavid of all people misplayed the puck in the neutral zone and it landed on Jack Eichel’s stick who shot down the ice on a breakaway with only 7 seconds to go, shifting to his backhand as he slid the puck between the goalie’s legs.

If it was possible, the roof would’ve blown off the top of the arena. Team USA hadn’t won since the 1980 Miracle on Ice game and the place was shaking with excitement. USA gear and equipment was strewn across the ice like confetti while Team Canada stared on in disbelief, some kneeling together watching while others had already started to make their way towards the locker room.

People were hugging her tightly and screaming in her ear. Eleanora wasn’t even sure they were all people she knew. Charlie Sr. pulled her away from whoever was holding her and into a tight hug while the rest of the family crowded around jumping as they celebrated. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she tried to spot Charlie on the ice but her vision was blurry.

Sobbing into one hand, the other pressed tight against her stomach she felt another strong kick which only made her sob harder. It was better than her own win because she hadn’t had any true family to celebrate with besides her coaches who had become replacement parents to her. This was entirely different and felt like they’d all won it.

The celebrations continued on the ice as the McAvoys all made their way towards the same opening Eleanora had talked to Charlie before the game start. Other wives and families were already there, pulling each other into hugs, most of the moms crying happily while a few of the dads tried to fight their own tears except for Jim Hughes who was openly crying as he held his wife tightly to him.

Standing on the glass so she could watch, Eleanora scanned the sea of blue jerseys to try to find Charlie, biting her lip to try to stop crying. She was still contemplating scaling the glass but knew the guys deserved to celebrate with their team first.

Finally, her impatience grew and Eleanora, just popped the door open and started to make her way onto the ice. Once the dam broke, the rest of the families followed, ignoring the staff asking for them to stay off the ice until they had carpets laid down.

It was decidedly difficult to maneuver on the ice in sneakers and a pregnant belly but she moved as quickly and carefully as she could towards her target. Their eyes locked and Charlie broke away from the guys to get to her. When he reached her, he went right for her waist, dragging her up and off the ice as he twirled her around as she held tightly to him.

Neither of them spoke at first as Eleanora pressed kisses all over his face as he laughed until he could kiss her back. It was awkward to be held up so Charlie carefully set her down on the ice, one hand tucking protectively against her back so she wouldn’t slip and the other pressed gently on her belly as he leaned down for the sweetest kiss they’d ever shared.

“I told you I’d win it for you.” He whispered, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Not before scaring the shit out of me first.” She shot back but squeezed his waist tightly, her face landing in the sweaty material. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Teddy.”

She stared up at him, and despite the fact that he had just won the biggest game of his life, he was staring at her like they were the only two people in the world.

“This is almost as good as our wedding night.”

She gave a watery chuckle in return. “Just the wedding night not the wedding itself?”

“Eh, that was okay too.” He teased just as the rest of his family joined them. Reluctantly, she released him so he could hug his family, stepping back to give them a moment.

A few of the guys paused to hug her as they went by but mostly she just stood there watching Charlie beaming at everyone around him. The camera crews were starting to show up as the staff worked to get the carpets out and set up the podiums. Eleanora knew they wouldn’t get a private moment together for hours and she tried to melt into the background but Charlie was having none of that, snagging her hand and dragging her towards him as they started to interview him.

From her position under his arm, she stared up at him as he spoke, beaming proudly as he talked about the win and how special it was for them. She was so focused on him she didn’t realized they’d asked her a question.

“Nellie.” Charlie whispered, nudging her with a nose to the top of her head and she glanced at the reporter who was beaming at her.

“I was just asking how this compares to your own gold medal win just four years ago?” they repeated the question.

Eleanora grinned and squeezed his side tighter. “There’s no comparison.” She started, enjoying some of the frowns that followed before continuing. “What Charlie and the boys did was so beyond historic and I’m so proud to have been able to watch it happen. This team worked so hard and never gave up. I’m just thrilled I was able to share in it. Although I’m pretty pissed that I can’t win arguments anymore by saying ‘well I have a gold medal so you have to do what I say’.”

Everyone laughed in response, Charlie squeezing her side lightly.

“I’m sure you guys haven’t seen yet but the video of you two right before the game has become quite popular.” Eleanora flushed slightly as they continued. “Charlie – did you get any last minute advice?”

She pinched his side, hoping he’d lie but the smirk on his face already told her differently. “She pretty much told me that just getting to the medal game wasn’t enough and that I knew what to do. Pretty sure the exact words were ‘now go fucking win it’ and honestly, I can’t really say no to my wife so I did.”

--- ---

It was nearly three hours later by the time Eleanora and Charlie were walking into her hotel room and shutting the door so they were finally alone. They were planning on changing then meeting up with everyone to celebrate. Most of the guys’ flights weren’t for another day or two so they planned to enjoy what little remained of their Olympic break before they’d have to return to their teams for the rest of the season.

Charlie face planted onto the king-size bed. “Fuck, you’ve been sleeping on this for two weeks while I’ve been on the worst twin mattress in the world?”

Eleanora giggled, pulling her jersey off leaving on her loose t-shirt, she slipped out of her sneakers and kicked them towards the door so she could sit and join him on the bed. Despite how happy she was, she was exhausted and the pain in her back went from dull to stabbing on a dime. It took a little effort for her to climb up onto the bed and get comfy as she curled up on her side.

Charlie inched up so his nose was brushing against her swollen belly. Her hand immediately fell to his hair, running her fingers through gently and scratching his scalp. He brought his arm up so he was hugging her middle and pressed his lips against her.

“Hi, Tripp.” He whispered causing Eleanora to tug his hair gently.

“Baby, no. Even if he ends up Charlie the third, we are not calling him Tripp.”

Charlie ignored her. “Ignore mommy, I’ll make sure you get a cool nickname.”

She rolled her eyes but he kept talking. “I don’t know if you heard all that noise but now you have two parents with gold medals. We’re pretty big deals.”

“Kid was bouncing all over the place for most of the game before settling directly on my sciatic nerve so I couldn’t get comfortable.”

“Be nice to mommy, sweet boy.” He mumbled and pressed a kiss to her stomach before turning up so he could stare at her. “I think I won because of you.”

“You won because you’re an amazing hockey player and leader. You did this. Next up you can win us a Cup.” She smiled softly, stroking his hair as he crawled up so their faces were level. They lay there quietly together, staring at each other and enjoying the peace. They’d both turned their phones off, telling his family they’d see them at the restaurant that USA hockey had reserved for them. For now, they just wanted to be alone.

Carefully, Eleanora brushed Charlie’s hair off his forehead. “Your head okay? I might kill that Canadian fuck.”

Charlie laughed but cringed slightly. His head hurt more than he let on but he passed concussion protocol and had a few days off before he’d have to be back on the ice for a game.

“Are you okay? I know when you’re in pain, Nellie.”

She winced despite trying to smile as he tucked his hand under her top to lay on her bare skin, soothingly running his thumb along belly.

“Just pregnancy, or so I’m told. I need to figure out how to get him off this nerve or I’m gonna spend the flight pacing the aisles because I won’t be able to sit.”

Charlie frowned. “I hate seeing you in pain. And I’m worried you won’t want the five that I want if this one is such a pain in the ass.”

She snorted, inching forward to kiss him softly. “Let’s get through meeting this little man first then we’ll talk more, kay?”

“You’re the love of my fucking life, you know that?” he gripped her neck gently.

Smiling, she leaned forward to steal another kiss. “Lucky for you, it’s mutual. Now…I bet we could find a comfy position for you to fuck me in before we have to go to the restaurant.”

A slow smirk spread across Charlie’s face as he rolled her carefully onto her back so he could lean over her.

“I can definitely do that.”

#charlie mcavoy #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl imagines #charlie mcavoy fic #boston bruins #me writing hockey fics #hockey fic #my writing #hockey imagines #hockey blurbs #annnnd we're back #because i'm just gonna keep writing these two #because it's fun for me #I hope you like it! #let me know if you have requests or feedback

[tippedbykreider]

your love is my turning page | c. kreider

Word count: 17,700 Warnings: Mentions of death, grief, sex, mention of breakdown of previous relationship, mentions of infidelity. Author’s note: This was the first long-fic I ever wrote and to say that I was proud of it is an understatement. I’ve made some minor additions to this and hope you all enjoy it second time around as much as you did the first time. Fic title is from ‘Turning Page’ by Sleeping at Last Summary: Chris Kreider doesn’t believe in fate but a chance meeting in a Manhattan bookstore opens his mind, and his heart, to things he has only ever read about in the books he loves so much.

*

‘We are asleep until we fall in love’ – Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace.

Sometimes in life there are moments where everything changes, suddenly and unexpectedly and in ways that make it impossible to be the same person that you were before. It’s a bit like a storm, sweeping in and rearranging your life completely to a point beyond recognition, where everything changes and you’re left with a choice: mourn what was lost or use it as an opportunity to rebuild and come back stronger than before.

That was the dilemma Roseanna Williams faced after the man she thought she’d grow old with turned out to be nothing more than a huge disappointment. She should have seen it coming if she was to be completely honest with herself, years of waiting for him to outgrow what she presumed to be a teenage phase yielded nothing but frustration and a growing sense of impatience. If you asked any of her close friends and family they would tell you that she should have done it years ago but it never was as easy as just walking away, not when it came to the man whom she had been with since the tender age of fifteen. After she’d graduated university and completed her teaching degree, she was itching and ready for them both to take the next step in their relationship, to make more of a commitment, hell, even get married, but every attempt at an adult discussion about their future was met with resistance and a string of excuses.  The realisation suddenly began to dawn on her that maybe he was a lost cause and that she was wasting the best years of her life by waiting on him to get his shit together. The final straw came when she’d come home early from a teaching conference and found him in bed with someone she had considered to be a friend. That was when the flood defences failed and all the water she’d been ignoring for so long came rushing in, destroying everything she thought she knew and leaving her shaken to the core and gasping for breath. 

It started as a spark of an idea, moving away and getting a fresh start, London perhaps, or maybe somewhere further North. Exeter held too many memories now, the hurt and betrayal burying all of the wonderful times she’d had in the city that had always been her home. She’d discussed it at length with her parents who, while saddened at the prospect of their youngest daughter moving away, encouraged her to pursue whatever would make her the happiest. The spark caught, much like it always did whenever Rosie set her mind to something and before she knew it she was applying for a United States work visa and looking for places to live in New York City. All that was left to do was to pack up her life and trust in the magic of new beginnings.

That was how she ended up in Brooklyn, New York, teaching English Literature at a local high school. It was a different kind of life, one that took her a couple of years to get used to and while Rosie wasn’t quite confident enough yet to call herself a New Yorker, she definitely felt like she had found somewhere that she could call home. That feeling started as a seed, growing roots and leaves every time she would get off the subway at the right stop or find a new coffee shop to try until eventually she could rattle off her favourite places to get an Americano or the best places to get pizza. Her family and friends loved it, naturally, having the perfect reason to come and visit the Big Apple and Rosie loving nothing more than having the opportunity to show off the city she’d grown to adore.

Of course, there were parts of her old life that she missed. How could she not? She missed her family and her university friends. She missed afternoon teas with Devonshire clotted cream and summer days spent at the beach in Torquay. ‘You can always come home, love,’ her mother would say and that was completely true and while a part of her would always yearn for the smell of the sea or the cry of a gull on a soft summer breeze and while her roots were very much planted in Devonshire soil, her heart belonged to New York City.

She’d developed somewhat of a routine during the first couple of years that she’d lived in Brooklyn and it was one that hadn’t changed much, loving nothing more than taking the subway to Manhattan on weekends to spend the day checking out all the small independently run bookstores (when she wasn’t drowning in unmarked papers, of course). This particular late-October Saturday had started much like the others; she allowed herself a well-deserved lie-in after a hectic week of teaching and a bottle of Sangiovese the previous night, savouring her first cup of coffee like it was the first she’d had in months while she set about watering her house plants. A shower that lasted entirely too long, which doubled as a Fleetwood Mac tribute concert that she was sure her neighbours appreciated, was next on the agenda before she finally bundled herself up to face a chilly Autumn day in the city. 

She’d stopped off at her favourite coffee shop on the way to the station and chatted with the young barista, Laura, behind the counter, whom she’d grown to know over the months since Laura had started working there. She’d learned that Laura was planning a trip to Europe next Summer and offered some suggestions of places in England to visit, making sure to get her to promise to not just visit London. With her take-out coffee cradled in her hands, the cup serving her well as a much needed hand-warmer, the late-morning had Rosie heading towards Westsider Books, a favourite haunt of hers that she couldn’t help but keep coming back to. She had no reason at all to think that going to that store was going to prove to be another one of those moments that she could look back on as being a defining moment in her story, but with a push of the door, every star and planet aligned that set her on a course that would change her life forever.

*

Christopher James Kreider was a self-confessed simple man, despite his career choice and the lifestyle that came with it seeming to be anything but. He was incredibly thankful for the certain level of anonymity that came with living in a place like New York; certainly, there were times where he would be recognised and would be stopped for a picture or autograph, but in the sea of a-list celebrities that called the city home, he was just a small fish and was happiest when he was flying under the radar. The kind of life afforded by being a professional athlete playing in the National Hockey League was one that he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. Sure, he had a sweeping Tribeca apartment that he called home, he had a nice car, he went to work wearing expensive suits and could afford to eat out in the city anywhere he wanted, but the reality of it all was that he was most at ease sprawled out on his couch with a good book and a bottle of wine.

His teammates affectionately called him the hockey Renaissance man, a nod to his impressive pursuits off the ice, but it was never a name that sat comfortably with him. As far as he was concerned, he was just Chris, there was nothing special about him and his ability to deflect praise or compliments was nothing short of reflexive. His days off during the season were few and far between and he was always keen to make the most of the time afforded to him. An early start and cup of coffee usually preceded a quick workout, followed by a shower, a second coffee and a crossword puzzle while he decided how he was going to spend his day. Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to stay within the sanctuary of his apartment and read Hemingway until the sun began to dip below the skyline, other times he would venture out into the city and check out the new exhibit down at the art gallery in Soho before finding somewhere quiet to enjoy a good cup of coffee.

The season had gotten off to a decent enough start, the chemistry between the team seeming to grow with each game and Chris hitting his stride early on. He’d just returned from a three game trip in Canada and despite the slight fatigue he was feeling, he was eager to get out into the city. He wasn’t in the market for anything in particular but there was a lot of joy to be found in rummaging through old record shops or second hand book stores, at least in Chris’s opinion anyway. There was something so special about a pre-loved record or book, he thought, each had their own tale to tell and each held a special place in someone’s heart at one point or another. There were barely any new editions of books on his bookshelves, some so tatty and worn that their bindings were stringy and the pages threatened to abscond if held the wrong way.

Chris was a creature of habit and it was something that he would freely admit. He often visited the stores closest to home, not often venturing further than Midtown, but with nothing but time he found himself on the 1 train and headed towards Upper West Side, Westsider Books his destination of choice. The first thing he noticed upon entering wasn’t the towering shelves that stacked books upon books but the unmistakable scent of vellichor, that grassy, almost vanilla aroma that felt a lot like coming home. The owner offered a friendly smile before nodding towards the vast collection of books.

“There’s fiction all down here, poetry’s at the back and non-fiction’s upstairs. Let me know if there’s something in particular you’re lookin’ for, I know there’s a lotta books in here.”

“Thank you,” Chris replied. “Do you have any Russian literature in at all?”

“We sure do, whatever we’ve got is on the third shelf from the back there, on your left.”

“Perfect, thanks a lot for your help.”

Chris offered the man behind the counter a smile and headed deeper into the shop, stopping in front of an impressive looking collection of Russian classics. It was easy to get lost in the volumes on the shelves, flicking through pages of different editions, some of them older than he’d ever seen before. There was one book in particular though that caught his eye, unassuming and inconspicuous enough, nestled between War and Peace and the Death of Ivan Ilyich. He reached out to touch the navy blue leather but was suddenly caught off-guard by the sensation of cold fingers knocking against his own.

“God, I’m so sorry, I was completely in my own world there.”

His eyes flicked to his right towards the source of the voice, soft and feminine with an accent that he knew not to be local. Rosie hadn’t even noticed him, which now that she was taking in his appearance properly didn’t exactly understand how she’d missed him standing beside her. He was well over six foot, she noted, and impossibly broad, but the thing that stood out to her the most about him was the unmistakable kindness in his hazel eyes, a tranquil grove of moss covered trees with their different shades of bark.

“No, no, you’re good. It’s me, big clumsy oaf over here,” he trailed off with a soft laugh, a slight heat rising in his cheeks now that he was really seeing her, with her eyes that were as blue as a summer sky and hair that reflected the colour of the autumn leaves outside.

“Did you want Anna Karenina?” Rosie asked, nodding towards the shelves.

“Oh, um, it’s okay, you go for it,” he smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that gave him a kind of softness, a familiarity almost.

“Please, I insist,” Rosie reached for the book and took it from its resting place amongst the other Tolstoy works, handing it to Chris. “I already have three different editions of this, if I took home a fourth I think an intervention would need to be staged.”

Rosie grinned as Chris laughed, the sound full and rich to her ears, while he took the book from her hands and tucked it under his arm.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” He started, his eyes flitting across her features before they settled to meet her gaze. Her grin had faded into a warm smile that reached all the way up to her eyes and she was surveying him with an almost curiosity, one that he found himself matching. “I’m sorry, I know you probably get asked this all the time,” he continued, with an endearing kind of sheepishness that kept the corners of Rosie’s mouth lifted upwards, “but I gotta ask about the accent. I wanna say British but I don’t want to come across like a stereotypically ignorant American if I’m wrong.”

“Oh it’s okay,” Rosie chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “you’re only the third person to ask me today.”

Chris could tell from the sparkle in her eye and the smirk on her lips that she meant no malice in her reply and made an exaggerated cringing grimace in return.

“God, I know. I’m sorry. You must get sick of it.”

“I mean, if I had a dollar for every time someone asked I’d be a very rich lady, but yeah, your ears don’t deceive you, I’m British. Actually from Exeter in Devon specifically, which is like South West England and now I realise that that probably means nothing to you,” she laughed as she caught the slightly vacant expression that had graced his features while she had been explaining her place of birth.

“I know, I’m sorry. I guess I really am a stereotypical ignorant American.”

Rosie responded with a gentle shake of her head as she spoke, “Nah, I wouldn’t say so. I couldn’t tell you the first thing about the rest of the States, it took me longer than I care to admit to just not get lost going two or three blocks down.”

Chris smiled, both at her kindness and the gentle lilt of her accent. “So are you here visiting, or?”

Rosie shook her head again, the auburn waves shaking and falling about her face in a way that had Chris’s smile doubling.

“Well, I’m visiting Manhattan, but I live in the city, been here coming up five years now.”

“Yeah? And you like it?”

Rosie’s smile sparked at the corner of her mouth until it spread like wildfire and lit up the whole of her face. Chris couldn’t help but notice how beautiful it made her look, that kind of smile that was so undeniably authentic and genuine and yet so incredibly rare in a city as big as New York; but there it was, right in front of him and warm like sunshine.

“I love it here,” the affection in her voice clear as day. “It’s so different from anything back home and in the best possible way.”

Chris got the impression from her seemingly deliberate choice of words that there was a story there, but the classic literature aisle didn’t really seem like the time and place to get into it with someone he’d just met, nor did he want to assume that she would even offer that tale to him freely. Instead, he took the book out from under his arm and held it out to her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take this home with you?”

“I’m positive. ‘Live in the needs of the day’ as Tolstoy would say and I don’t really need that book. I’m sure you’ll give it a wonderful home.”

She met his eyes briefly, her stomach flip-flopping at the softness she found there, and gave him a warm smile that matched the one he was wearing. Chris wasn’t sure what had made him feel so bold. Perhaps it was the feeling of being so completely at ease with her, despite not even knowing her name and despite having known her for a mere five minutes, or perhaps it was the gentleness in her eyes. He didn’t spend too much of his time thinking about it as the words were out of his mouth before he could second guess them.

“At least let me buy you a coffee as a thank you.”

“Do you buy all the women you meet in bookshops coffee?” Rosie quipped without missing a beat.

“Damn, you caught me.”

Rosie laughed, easy and free with her head tipped back and Chris knew in that moment that he needed this woman in his life in some way, the sound bright and rich like the first sip of coffee in the morning or the first rays of summer sunshine filtering through curtains. He was still surveying her with an easy grin as she shuffled on her feet slightly, deciding whether she was going to let her head or her heart reign supreme today.

“I don’t usually make a habit of getting coffee with strangers,” the small smile still playing on her lips despite the tentative nature of her words.

Chris instinctively offered his hand out for her to shake.

“Well, I’m Christopher and you are?”

Rosie placed her hand in his, the smile on her face doubling in size at his kindness as she shook his hand, and tried to ignore the way her heart started to race at how warm and easy his touch felt.

“Rosie, or Roseanna if we’re using our Sunday names.”

“Nice to meet you, Rosie,” Chris said, his tone gentler than was probably necessary in the moment but it had Rosie feeling more relaxed in his presence by the second. “See, we’re not strangers anymore.”

“No, I don’t suppose we are. Alright then, Christopher, I accept your proposal of coffee and if you turn out to be an axe murderer then I hope you enjoy the book.”

It wasn’t very often that Rosie let curiosity get the better of her but there was something telling her to surrender to this moment in front of her, to let her heart win for once and throw caution to the wind. There was something about Chris and his aura that made it incredibly easy to ignore that prudent and wary voice in the back of her head that would usually call for rational and cautious thinking in situations such as this one, the voice that is often nurtured during childhood by parents and adults alike to help keep you safe from harm, the voice that would warn you about the dangers of strangers. Chris was a stranger, this was, of course, an undisputed fact, but Rosie didn’t feel like she was in any danger with this man. She guessed that it had an awful lot to do with the genuine warmth that seemed to radiate from him that made her feel less like she was with a someone she’d just met in a book shop and more like she was catching up with an old friend. It was incredibly rare that she felt so at ease with someone, let alone a man she knew nothing about except for his name, but she’d grow to learn that that was just the magic of Chris, his sincerity and kindness always radiating from him like the glow of an open fire on a cold winter’s night.

“I can say with absolute certainty that I’m not an axe murderer,” he grinned. “But if it would make you feel better I was planning on taking you to Irving Farm, y’know, so you can check in with someone if you wanted.”

That simple gesture alone told Rosie all she needed to know about Chris, the fact he was so cognizant of how a woman might be feeling going to get coffee with a man she’d just met. It was that thoughtfulness and that tingle of curiosity and wonder that had her following him to the counter and waiting as he paid for his book before they both ventured back out into the chilly air and towards the café. Making small talk on the short walk there was incredibly easy, the effortless nature of their conversation not lost on either of them and as they sat down opposite each other in a quiet corner of the shop, shedding their coats and scarves, Chris took the opportunity to really appreciate the beauty of the woman in front of him.

She was classically pretty, he thought, with her auburn locks freed from the confines of the scarf she had been wearing and the slight ruddiness to her cheeks from the way the cold air had kissed them during their short walk. But more than that, it was the way her presence seemed to uplift him in a way he hadn’t ever experienced before. Chris was an incredibly practical and logical man and the idea of kindred spirits wasn’t something that he subscribed to, but there was just something about Rosie. It was a sense of familiarity and a feeling often only felt between two people who had known each other for years. It was a feeling that, unbeknownst to him, Rosie shared too, not quite being able to remember a time where she was able to enthusiastically discuss literature at such great lengths with someone.

“So come on,” Chris said over his cup of coffee after they’d settled at a table in a quiet corner of the café. “You were able to quote Anna Karenina from memory, is there a particular reason for that or have I managed to find an even bigger book nerd than I am?”

Rosie smirked as she took a sip from her cup, eyes sparkling as she surveyed Chris. “I am a pretty big book nerd, but no, I actually teach literature.”

Chris’s eyebrows raised as an impressed little smirk pulled the corner of his lips upwards. He set his cup down and clasped his hands in front of him on the table.

“Forgive me for being bold here and by all means tell me to mind my own damn business, but what exactly makes a British literature teacher cross an ocean and put roots down in New York City?”

Rosie paused for a moment, chewing over her words in her mind.

“A vague sense of wanderlust, I guess,” she began carefully. “I don’t know, there was just… a lot of stuff that happened in my life and it felt like a good time for a fresh start while I was still young enough and brave enough to do it.”

“I’m sorry if that was too personal,” Chris looked at her apologetically, the slight flicker of sadness that had appeared in her eyes too prominent to ignore. “I didn’t mean to bring any painful memories back for you by prying.”

“It’s absolutely fine. All the diversity, all the charm and all the beauty of life are made up of light and shade, right?”

“You really love that book, don’t you?” Chris asked her softly, recognising the quote from the book currently sitting in the brown paper bag by his feet immediately, and with a gleam in his eye.

“It’s one of my favourites,” Rosie replied. “It’s probably up there with Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, Pride and Prejudice and For Whom the Bell Tolls.”

“You like Hemingway?” Chris’s eyes crinkled with his grin and shone with excitement as she nodded in agreement. “I love Hemingway,” he added. “He’s easily my favourite author.”

Rosie leaned forward in her seat and rested her arms on the table with her cup still cradled in her hands, Chris mirroring her action, like two school children about to share a secret.

“I love the beautiful simplicity of his writing. It’s direct but without losing any of the emotion or feeling. Like, don’t get me wrong, Russian literature and authors like Tolkien are wonderful and they certainly have their part to play, but sometimes there’s just no need for pages and pages just to get a point across. That’s the beauty of Hemingway, the straightforwardness of it.”

“Yes!” Chris exclaimed, his face lighting up. “That’s exactly it. Take The Old Man and the Sea as an example, that book is what? Twenty-seven thousand words? But the feeling and the message that he’s able to get across, it’s amazing. God, I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve read that book.”

“A favourite of yours, then?”

Chris nodded as he picked up his mug. “Without a doubt, followed closely by For Whom the Bell Tolls and An Immovable Feast.”

He punctuated his statement with a wink and a smile, savouring the way Rosie’s face would ignite with pure joy as she laughed.

“Perhaps we should compare notes,” she mused behind her coffee.

“Is that you saying you wanna meet up again?” Chris asked, a cocky grin on his face.

“What if it is?” She countered quickly, a twinkle in her eye that had Chris’s heart thundering in his chest.

“Then I think you’d better take my number.”

 *

The weeks passed and autumn collapsed into winter, the first frosts clinging to everything and covering the city in opaline glitter. Rosie’s schedule had begun to slow following the initial insanity of the beginning of the academic year as things started to wind down for the holidays. She’d spent a lot of her free time preparing for her annual trip home to England to spend Christmas with her family, something that she looked forward to all year. Whatever time was left was spent reading or catching up with Chris, who had been equally busy with his work as a professional hockey player. He’d mentioned this to her briefly and in passing during their phone calls, which certainly explained why his schedule was often so all over the place, but the concept was so alien to Rosie that she didn’t feel the need to pry further. Growing up in Devon meant that her exposure to a sport like ice hockey was next to nothing, her knowledge extending as far as movies such as The Mighty Ducks would afford. In fact, when she thought about it, she didn’t know anybody who played sports professionally in any capacity and so while she was intrigued by Chris and the story behind how he came to be in such a career in a city like New York (knowing him to be from Massachusetts originally), she also knew that he was so much more than all of the stereotypes she’d heard associated with professional athletes.

He wasn’t a big, dumb jock, far from it actually. Chris was incredibly intelligent, philosophical in ways she admired so much but with an endearing and quick sense of humour. His thirst for knowledge and appreciation for the world around him was unlike any she’d ever seen and it somehow made him more handsome than any of his classically good-looking physical features. There was an intrigue, of course, surrounding him and his job, but Rosie also knew that he would offer that part of himself to her in time and when he felt most comfortable doing so. She imagined that he didn’t always get to have the luxury of authentic meetings with people who didn’t already know about him and his job, and for all the lovely moments he’d already given her in their growing friendship, she wanted to pay him back in kind by not forcing anything on him that he wasn’t yet ready to talk about.

It was incredible really, how easy it was for her to fall into friendship with Chris, made only easier with each discovery of a new shared interest. Their texts would often consist of them sending things the other might find interesting such as a new book or a new song to listen to. Hearing from him was something that she found herself looking forward to, especially appreciating when he would take time out of his day while he was away from home to check in with her and catch up.

As the end of the semester creeped closer, Rosie found herself surrounded by gifts she had already wrapped ahead of her trip home and a small pile of clothes, the open suitcase on the bed still empty despite her best intentions. She always found packing incredibly dull (although admittedly not as bad as unpacking once she returned to New York) and would often preoccupy herself with anything and everything to avoid doing it, which always resulted in a stressful last-minute packing situation that she was keen to avoid this year. She stood with her hands on her hips as she surveyed the situation in front of her, deciding the best way in which to go about organising her suitcase, when her phone vibrated against her dressing table. Unable to contain the flicker of a smile that tugged at her mouth as she saw the Caller ID flash with Chris’s name, she answered.

“Hey, you.”

She could hear what sounded like a group of very rowdy men in the background in what she could only assume was a bar.

“I need you to help settle a debate.”

Rosie smiled as she cradled her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, using her free hands to pick up a pair of jeans and place them into the suitcase.

“Sounds serious.”

“Oh it is and we’re at a deadlock over here so your opinion decides it, I hope you can handle that kind of pressure,” Chris teased.

“Oh, Christopher, I was born ready.”

“Alright, but this is like legit serious stuff.”

“Out with it, Chris,” Rosie laughed.

“Crunchy or smooth?”

“Excuse me?” Rosie asked with an incredulous look on her face that she knew Chris would’ve laughed at had he been able to see her.

“Peanut butter,” he clarified. “Crunchy or smooth?”

“Wow,” Rosie deadpanned. “And here I was thinking you were about to ask me something incredibly philosophical.”

“Oh come on, Ro, don’t leave me hanging here.”

“I suppose if I had to choose, I’d probably go with smooth.”

“Ha!” Chris exclaimed, causing Rosie to jump. “She said smooth, looks like you’re the one with the weird peanut butter preferences, Foxy.”

Rosie furrowed her brow at the incoherent shouting and cheering in the background as she put more clothes into her suitcase.

“I’m so confused right now.”

She listened as the sound of raucous chatter faded into a faint buzz and Chris’s voice came back through the speaker clearer yet softer than it had been before.

“Sorry about that, the guys can get a little excitable sometimes.”

“Rookies had too many beers?”

“Yeah,” Chris breathed. “Something like that. How’re you doin’ anyway? Things settled for you at work?”

“Yeah,” she replied softly, perching herself on the edge of her bed, careful not to knock any of the small wrapped packages onto the floor. “I got all of those papers turned round and the results were actually kind of encouraging, which was nice.”

“That’s probably because they’ve got a good teacher.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Rosie blushed, thankful that he couldn’t see the interesting shade of pink her face had turned.

Chris’s reply was unexpected, somehow managing to knock her back a bit with the sincerity and softness in his tone that seemed more intimate than perhaps their current level of friendship afforded.

“I mean it, Ro. I know you know your stuff. They’re lucky to have someone like you teaching them.”

His words hung in the air around Rosie for a few seconds while she processed them, or rather, while she started to analyse the tenderness in his tone that she was sure she hadn’t imagined. He didn’t give her too long to get lost in it though as he was speaking again before she had a chance to truly unpack her thoughts.

“So things have settled down for you, yeah?”

“Um, yeah.. Yeah. I’ve just been packing for my trip back home,” Rosie replied, picking up one of the small gift-wrapped boxes and examining it for no particular reason.

“Right, of course. When is it you fly?”

“December twenty-first, fly back into JFK on the fourth of January.”

“I’ll be in California when you get back,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “But it’d be great to see you before you go to England. Maybe dinner or coffee?”

“That would be really nice, Chris,” the smile evident in her voice to Chris even through the phone.

“Great, we’ll arrange something once I’m back in the city at the end of the week.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Chris hesitated, not quite ready to say goodbye but knowing that he should probably get back to the others and leave Rosie to the rest of her evening. He knew he had to though, even if it did make his chest ache for reasons he didn’t quite understand.

“I’ll let you get on with your packing,” he half-sighed.

“Please don’t feel like you need to,” Rosie replied with the faintest hint of a plea.

“I do because if I don’t you’ll never finish packing your suitcase.”

There it was, that easy teasing that had become a defining feature of their friendship in just the few weeks they’d known each other and had managed to shift the atmosphere between them from something that neither could quite put their finger on to one that was much more playful and familiar.

Rosie groaned exaggeratedly, earning her a hearty chuckle from Chris.

“But I hate packing,” she whined.

“Welcome to being an adult, suck it up, Buttercup.”

“You’re mean.”

Despite her words, Chris knew that there was no truth in them and he also knew that she herself didn’t believe them, which made the playful back-and-forth banter between the two of them come easily.

“No, I’m Chris.”

“Oh my god!” Rosie laughed, exasperated. “I’m hanging up now, goodbye!”

Chris’s rich chuckle was the last thing she heard before she ended the call and tossed her phone onto her pillows, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of his humour before turning her attention back to the pile of clothes by her suitcase.

 *

Christmas went as quickly as it came, passing in such a blur that it had Rosie questioning if she’d had any time off at all. It didn’t take her long to settle back into the groove of things though, it never did, and by the time the frosts of winter began to thaw, the warm glow of the festive season was nothing more than a cheerful memory. Much like the first beautiful petals of spring, Chris and Rosie’s friendship continued to blossom.

Rosie would have been lying if she said that she didn’t wish their schedules would match up more. A particularly busy January for Chris meant that they hadn’t had chance to meet since just before Christmas and it had Rosie wondering just what exactly Chris’s job entailed. It wasn’t really something that had come up during their phone calls and it was something that she felt deserved to be done face-to-face rather than over a text message, because truth be told, she didn’t have the first idea when it came to ice hockey. Keen to know more about the man that was fast becoming somebody she considered to be a close friend, she resolved to ask him the next time they met for coffee.

“So are you ever going to tell me about this big, shiny career of yours or am I supposed to just keep thinking you’re some James Bond of professional hockey,” she mused as she broke off a piece of blueberry muffin and popped it into her mouth.

Chris blushed slightly as he took a drawn out sip of coffee.

“I mean, yeah, sure. What do you wanna know?”

He set his cup down and clasped his hands on the table in front of him, the flicker of nervousness extinguished quickly by the kindness that rested within her eyes.

“Well,” she started. “I believe I’ve mentioned before that the only hockey I knew of before meeting you was the field hockey they made us play at secondary school. So, everything I guess? Oh, and I’m going to need you to explain like I’m five.”

Chris couldn’t help but chuckle at the good-natured smirk on her face and ran a hand along the stubble at his jaw.

“Alright, well. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to start from the top. I played hockey in high school, then went to Boston College, they have a really good collegiate hockey programme there and it’s a good school to boot. I got drafted in 2009 by the New York Rangers then I signed my first contract with them in 2012, been here ever since.”

“So you must be bloody good at hockey then,” Rosie said after swallowing her coffee which made the pink tinge to Chris’s cheeks even more prominent.

“I mean, I’m not terrible.”

Rosie grinned at him and at his humility which she had come to know as being one of Chris’s prominent traits. “And your schedule? I know it’s a bit mental but what does an average day look like for you?”

“That depends,” Chris replied. “Are we talking an off-day? Game day? Away trip?”

“All of the above?” Rosie laughed.

“My days off I still like to get a work-out in, even if it’s just a small one. But other than that? I don’t know, maybe meet incredible women from Devon in bookshops?”

It was Rosie’s turn to have her cheeks flush, especially with the way Chris was looking at her with an unreadable look in his eyes. Chris continued though, despite the thundering in his chest at how beautiful she looked in that moment.

“Game days I’ll usually get up, go to practice. I try and take a nap in the afternoon before I have to go down to the Garden to get ready for the game and it’s much the same if I’m away on the road. We usually practice before we travel to wherever it is we’re headed.”

“That sounds incredibly full-on.”

“It is,” Chris agreed. “But it really makes you appreciate the time at home and the moments of stillness. Why’d you think I love getting lost in a good book so much?”

“Because, in the words of Dr Seuss, ‘the more you read, the more things you’ll know. The more you learn, the more places you’ll go.’”

Chris looked at her softly, a warm smile on his face. “Spoken like a true teacher.”

“So come on then,” she blushed, steering the conversation away from herself and back to him. “You went to Boston College, right? What did you end up studying?”

“Communications,” Chris said as he finished taking a sip of coffee. “I uh, it was really important to my mom for me to finish my degree so I kept plugging away at it even after I went pro.”

“Wow,” Rosie looked at him, clearly impressed. “That’s incredible, Chris. I mean, getting a degree is a hard enough slog when you’re doing it full time, but to do it while you’re travelling here there and everywhere? That’s no easy feat.”

It was Chris’s turn to blush now, too humble and too modest to be able to accept the praise Rosie was giving him.

“I knew how much it meant to my mom and I just wanted to make her happy, that and I was too stubborn to not finish something I’d started.”

“Your birthday is the end of April, right?” She said rather suddenly but as if something had clicked in the back of her mind.

“Yeah, April 30th. Why? You been googling me?”

“Oh it’s nothing really,” she said quickly, face flushing and suddenly aware of how stupid it would sound to him if she actually said it out loud. “And for the record, I haven’t googled you, I just remembered you mentioning your birthday last time we met up.”

“Nah, you can’t just do that,” he chuckled softly. “Come on, what were you gonna say?”

“Well,” she started, her fingers and eyes finding the coffee cup in front of her, anything to avoid the part where he looked at her like she was mad. “I was just gonna say that you really are a typical Taurus.”

Chris leaned forward in his seat, hands settling just shy of hers but the almost contact enough to make her skin spark.

“That so?” he mused. “You big into your astrology?”

“No, well yes, sort of,” she rushed and Chris could tell that she was almost ashamed of the admission. “I don’t read magazine horoscopes or anything like that because they really are a load of bollocks. But natal charts and stuff like that? I find them totally fascinating. I um, I’m kind of into crystal healing, I sage my apartment, I know it’s nuts.”

“No it’s not,” Chris took her hand then, the need to reassure her and ground her in a moment where she felt vulnerable and exposed. “Is it something that I believe in personally? No, not really. But truthfully I don’t know anything about it either. If it makes you happy then it really doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Maybe you could tell me more about it over dinner or something?”

Rosie looked at him thoughtfully, so appreciative of him in that moment and that ineffable gift of his to make her feel valued and listened to. It was that and all the other wonderful little facets of himself that he was showing her that had her agreeing to his proposal of dinner. She thought about the level of bravery that it must have taken for him to talk about that other side of his life, the side that she knew nothing about, no matter how small or trifling it might have seemed to anyone else. While she might not have had the first clue when it came to the sport or could even truly comprehend what Chris’s life was like, she understood that it must be incredibly difficult for somebody in his situation to forge true and meaningful relationships with people, friendly or otherwise, because when it feels like someone you have just met thinks they already know everything about you, it’s incredibly hard to let the guard come down and let people get close. That is what Chris appreciated the most about Rosie, though, the fact that she hadn’t the faintest idea who number 20 of the New York Rangers was. Every conversation they’d ever shared and every question she’d ever asked came from a genuine and altruistic desire to get to know him better. Even now, as she encouraged him to share that other part of him, that so many others defined him by, it came only from a place of pure and innocent curiosity. She asked about his job much in the same way she would ask an accountant or doctor about theirs.

Being able to have that conversation with her about his life and his job only served to strengthen the bond that they shared and he was incredibly thankful for Rosie’s understanding and willingness to fit her schedule and life around his. As the months passed and summer fast approached, Chris found himself for the first time reluctant to escape the stifling heat of the city after the season had ended. He was enjoying being able to spend more time with Rosie now that the school year had come to a close and he was shocked to learn that even after living in the city for close to six years at that point, she still hadn’t explored all of Manhattan. Their days were filled with walks around the West Village, Midtown or Tribeca and having lunches at tiny hole-in-the wall cafés where they would show each other the books they had picked up in whatever shop they’d found themselves in that morning.

It was that time shared together that made it incredibly easy for Rosie to become a stable fixture in Chris’s life with evenings spent at each other’s apartments having dinner and sharing wine. Rosie had learned quickly that Chris was a capable cook and Chris loved nothing more than when Rosie would cook pasta for him, even if it wasn’t exactly his nutritionist’s dream. It was easy to relax in that kind of way around her, forgetting the strict food regime every once in a while to really savour the beef ragu she made that he loved so much, always washed down with a couple of bottles of Sangiovese shared between them and finished with a homemade tiramisu. It was wholesome, much like she was with the softness of her curves and her insouciant attitude when it came to her looks. That was not to say that she didn’t make an effort, that wasn’t the case at all, for she would always look so put together and incredibly beautiful whenever Chris would see her, but she was the kind of woman who wouldn’t think twice about letting herself indulge in a slice of cake with her coffee or get too hung up on the calorie content of a pasta carbonara, which was a quality that Chris found to be both incredibly refreshing and endearing.

The natural quality of their relationship should have made it incredibly easy for Rosie to give in to those feelings she found beginning to settle in her chest. Chris was a wonderful man, that much was undeniably true and it should have been simple to confront the ache she felt whenever he went away. But if there was one thing Rosie had learned in her life, it was that if you expect too much, if you put people on pedestals that were too high, you would find yourself being disappointed. That was a simple fact of life. People were just that, people, capable of making mistakes. They were not divine beings, no matter how much we saw them as such through our own eyes. It was that idea alone that startled her; that a man such as Chris could be capable of disappointing her by the pure reasoning of the human condition and that was a thought that she couldn’t bear. So she pushed it down, down and down until it was quieter than a whisper. But even whispers can’t be ignored forever, and so with each comment from Chris’s friends about how happy he was since meeting her or each time her skin would spark at the feeling of his hand on the small of her back, the whisper grew, growing and growing with every team event she attended on his arm or every party he asked her along to, until it was a shout.

Relationships had never been something to come easy to Chris, he was too careful and too private; the gnawing feeling in his stomach that told him there was always some ulterior motive was often too arresting to ignore. It should have frightened him, the way Rosie came into his life and smashed through every wall he’d ever built without even doing much at all, but it didn’t. Rather than look at all the bricks and the rubble and be unnerved by the ease in which she was able to coax his vulnerability out of him, he found himself inspired, determined even, to build something truly beautiful with her. Chris knew that he would have to find a way to navigate these feelings with her, cognizant of the need to not throw her into the deep end and shock her system. Rosie deserved better than that because this wasn’t just about him and his feelings, it was about them and their relationship, what it was now and what it could be.

She was brilliant, in every way a person could be, beautiful and with a passion that glowed like the fiery tresses of her hair under a New York sunset. She was bold and sharp as a tack, keeping him on his toes in a way that no one else had ever been able to and he was sure that no one else would ever again. It was late night conversations where they were three bottles of wine deep talking about philosophy and ethics or her reading silently while he played guitar, it was listening to Pearl Jam with her whenever she cooked or Billy Joel when they were curled up together on the sofa, debating whether Radiohead or Nirvana was more influential in the grunge music scene. Hell, it was even looking up his birth chart, even though he didn’t believe in astrology, because there was just something about the way she said ‘You’re such a typical Sagittarius moon.’ Her warmth and her kindness always managed to ground him in moments where he would feel himself slipping, as sure as the moon rises and sets each night, especially once the season had restarted and those niggling insecurities would rear up and settle heavily in his chest, and yet he could tell that she never really knew the exact power that she held. She had his heart completely, whether she was aware of it or not and that was something that Chris hoped would never change. She’d slotted into his life like she had always belonged there, like she had always been there and that feeling only seemed to grow inside of Chris with every dinner they shared with his friends and every time he would see her face in the stands of MSG.

*

The week before Christmas brought an uncharacteristically early winter storm to New York unlike any Chris had ever seen throughout his whole time living there, forcing the city to a standstill and grounding flights, which meant that for the first time since moving to the States, Rosie wasn’t going to be home for Christmas. The idea of her spending the holiday alone in her apartment made Chris’s heart ache and so that was how Rosie ended up in his Tribeca apartment on Christmas Eve, bundled up with him on the sofa under a blanket, each with a mug of homemade mulled wine. The Muppet’s A Christmas Carol played quietly through the tv, one of Rosie’s Christmas Eve traditions that he would never dream of denying her, although, no matter what he would later admit to, he spent more time observing the gentle expression on her face as she got lost in the nostalgia of it all than he did actually paying attention to the screen. She felt him though, not even needing to take her eyes off the movie to know that he was watching her.

“You’re missing all the good bits,” she smirked.

“It’s okay, I’ve read the book. I know what happens.”

There was a slight grit to his tone that Rosie couldn’t quite place but crawled under her skin and kindled a small flame in her stomach all the same.

“But there were no Muppets in the book.” She turned to face him then and took in the expression within his eyes, darker than she’d ever seen them before. “Kermit really brings Dickens’ story to life.”

“I mean, Beaker steals it for me but we’ll agree to disagree.”

The air thickened around them and Rosie took a long sip of her wine, longer than perhaps she should have, but she needed to swallow away the tightness in her throat from the way Chris was looking at her. Like planets to a sun, Rosie found herself drawn to him, suddenly feeling him everywhere despite the fact they were at opposite ends of his couch. It was that gravity that had her shuffling towards him, crawling into his space in the same way she had crawled into his heart. He was warm, she thought, comfortingly so and the worn hoody on his body felt soft and had the familiar, soothing scent that was so uniquely Chris. Perhaps that is what had her curling into his side and resting her head on his shoulder and perhaps that new-found closeness was what had him pressing his lips into her hair.

There was no way either of them could deny what this was between them, the spark too bright to ignore. Rosie knew that they weren’t just friends, she knew that and she knew that Chris felt it too, that was why his face was turned towards hers, his lips impossibly close so that all she needed to do was tilt her head and give in to what her heart was crying out for. But her head was a cruel mistress indeed and it was that irrational but crippling fear of eventual disappointment that made her clear her throat and scoot back a shade, giving herself some much needed breathing room.

Chris exhaled quietly, the deflation leaving him on the breath. It was almost frustrating how close they were, the finish line within touching distance and yet they always seemed to stop short of it. Chris was there, he was there waiting and willing her to take those last few steps and cross it with him but he knew that he couldn’t force this, nor did he want to either. She had to want it for herself and Chris knew, as he looked at her sitting there chewing on her bottom lip with her brows knitted together in pensive thought, that she was worth the wait, even if it took a lifetime.

The post-holiday back to work rush was one that was felt universally. Those first few weeks always seemed to feel as though there was never enough hours in the day to get everything done and it was no different for Chris and Rosie, both caught up in their jobs to really sit and digest the moment between them at Christmas. Christmas Day had been incredibly busy with Chris hosting a couple of the younger players for dinner and no sooner had the festivities ended he was packing a bag ready to depart for Washington the following morning. They both knew that they had a lot of things to discuss, because that’s what adults did, they talked about their feelings in a healthy and open way, but as the busy-ness of their schedules ramped up, the hours slipped away and turned into days. Days spanned into weeks and weeks turned into months and before either of them knew it, the moment seemed so distant in the rear-view mirror, that it almost felt weird to bring it back up.

 *

The hockey season ended for Chris some time during May, the Rangers making it as far as the second round of the playoffs but unable to close it out after seven hard fought games. The disappointment sat heavy in his chest, much like it always did after losses like these, but he would have been a fool not to notice the way that it didn’t hang all about him in the way it had previous years. Of course, the wound still cut deep but without the festering ache of poison and he knew the antidote was the woman who had swept into his life nearly two years prior. 

It was remarkable really, how she came into his world like that. It was an event that Chris had always described as being purely serendipitous but the longer he spent with Rosie, the more he began to wonder if there was something else at play, hell, even fate perhaps. He had prided himself on being a shrewd man, his practicality something that had always defined him and guided his thoughts and actions, but whenever he thought about them and their relationship, he had to believe that it was more than just some happy accident. Rosie was pure magic, in every sense of the word, always having an uncanny ability to know what he needed before he even did and making him relax in ways he had never previously allowed himself to. It was cliché to say, but Chris genuinely believed that he had never lived until he met her and slowly, over the course of the last year, maybe even longer, the love songs on the radio made a little bit more sense and every love story he’d ever read sat a little bit differently in his heart. He knew that he was going to have to find a way to truly make her his, because despite all of the times where he felt like he could’ve just grabbed her face and kissed her, despite all of the unspoken feelings that had surfaced at Christmas, and despite the fact that they hadn’t yet managed to talk about them, the dynamic between them both after their almost kiss hadn’t changed at all except in the small way that he found himself having to stop himself from holding her in the way that he wanted to more often than not.

He thought about the one night she’d almost burst with excitement over their dinner at her apartment when he told her he had finally sat down and read Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, remembering the wind-scattered waves in her eyes and so sure that if anyone was brave enough to enter their depths, all else would blur and they would fall so deeply in love that they’d choose to stay there, no matter what, because he knew for certain that he had befallen that very fate. He recalled thinking that if that was the last thing he was to ever see, he would surely die a happy man. She had recited her favourite quote to him that he thought to be beautiful at the time but now hitting him like a freight train and knocking all of the wind out of his sails. It crawled through his skin and into his veins until he felt it coursing through his body until it had made a home within his very soul:

‘Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body… for that is just being in love, which any of us can convince ourselves that we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away.’

It was those words that had his feet carrying him to his car and those words that had him driving from his apartment to her home in Brooklyn and it was those words that had him standing outside of her front door ready to offer his heart to her. He knocked, more out of habit than anything, the key she had given him a few months ago being turned over between his fingers as he waited and the anxiety beginning to rise with each second that passed without her appearing at the door. He exhaled before finally putting the key into the lock, certain that she was home despite the fact that his visit was unplanned and unannounced.

“Rosie?” he called out into the hallway. “Are you there?”

The silence was unsettling and completely uncharacteristic, made worse by the fact that her car was parked outside in its usual spot and the fact that he could’ve sworn she’d mentioned during their phone call the night before that she was planning on having a day at home to do laundry and catch up on all of those less-important chores she didn’t have the time to do during the school year. 

‘Maybe she’s not home after all’, he thought after a couple of minutes without a reply, more to soothe his own anxiety more than anything else. ‘She’s obviously decided to go out for a walk somewhere. That must be it.’ He was just about to turn away and leave, suddenly aware of how intrusive his presence in her home was when she clearly wasn’t there, when he was certain he heard her voice call his name.

“Rosie?”

A sob drifted down the hallway, muted but no less full of raw pain and anguish that had his legs carrying him towards the sound in big, long strides until it brought him to her bedroom where the door stood slightly ajar. He slowly pushed it open with an exhale of a breath he hadn’t felt being held within his lungs and his heart lurched at the sight of her curled up on her bed sobbing into her pillow. To go to her was instinctive, his soul called out to hers in a desperate attempt to soothe whatever pain she was in and he found himself kneeling at the side of her bed with his long fingers smoothing back the titian strands that had fallen into her face and clung to her tears.

“Ro, what happened?”

She didn’t answer him, couldn’t answer him, in fact, and so he moved onto the bed, gathering her up into his arms and held her close to his chest while he rubbed circles on her back, murmuring softly into her hair to try and still her sobs. He felt the way she clung on to him like she was drowning and he was the life-preserver and pressed gentle kisses against her forehead until her crying was no more than quiet sniffles.

“Rosie, sweetheart, talk to me. What happened? Are you okay?”

“My grandma,” she choked out against the fabric of his t-shirt. “My grandma died.”

Chris closed his eyes and exhaled as the second wave of tears took her, holding her steadfast against him and saying nothing other than reassuring her that he was there for her. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that for, with her still impossibly close to him long after she’d finished crying herself hollow, until after the tears had dried and all that was left was the crippling deadweight of grief. It was Chris that spoke out into the new but deafening silence, his voice barely audible and a little rough from his own emotion that sat threateningly high in his throat.

“I’m so sorry, Rosie…”

The tiny exhale that passed Rosie’s lips had Chris’s heart breaking in two for her. Her reply small and full of defeat. “She’d had dementia for a while… Didn’t really know who any of us were,” she sniffled, dangerously close to losing it again. “Every time I went back home it was like she had to learn who I was all over again. I know that this was the kindest thing to happen but-”

Chris kissed her forehead as she choked back a sob, a wordless assurance that she didn’t need to say another word and a quiet understanding of the pain and emptiness that she was drowning in. 

“When are you flying home?” He murmured softly.

“I’m going to try and get a flight home for tomorrow, Thursday at the latest.”

“It’s gonna be expensive to try and get something that short notice, Ro.”

“That’s why I have savings,” Rosie gave a small, almost robotic shrug as she wiped her face, the emotion quickly being forced back down into her stomach as she turned her focus towards the things that she could control to keep herself from spiralling into hysterics again. “In case of an emergency.”

“Let me pay for your flight home,” Chris offered. “Please, it’s the least I can do.”

“You know I can’t accept that, honey.”

Chris had been friends with Rosie long enough to be familiar with the fact she often used terms of endearment whenever she was talking to him, but even now, especially now, with all those feelings of complete clarity about her and about them and their relationship that sat in his chest, it still managed to knock him back a bit and make his heart swell even in a moment as awful as this one. 

“Why not?”

He knew that this was a situation where he shouldn’t push too hard, that she would either pull away from him or direct all of that grief and emotion his way, like a cornered animal seconds away from deciding whether to fight or bolt. He knew he shouldn’t push this but he needed to do something, the overwhelming demand coming from his heart to make this right and fix this for her too much to ignore.

“Because I’m not your problem, Chris,” Rosie said, completely deflated. “Because this doesn’t need to be your problem.”

“I want to help, Ro, please. Please let me help. Please let me help fix this.” He was pleading with her and while a part of Rosie understood his desire to make this better for her, the swirling hurricane of emotions inside of her was reaching a fever pitch and, unable to make sense of it all, she found herself directing her howling gales towards the one thing she should have been holding on to.

“This isn’t something you can fix, Chris! You can’t fix this, you can’t make this right and you can’t bring her back!”

She stood with her fists balled tightly, the pain on her face as she sobbed and the realisation that she was right cutting through Chris like a knife. He had never been one to lose his nerve in a crisis, always the dependable one, always the stoic one. He was the guy people could rely on when things were shitty and it was something he prided himself on, but seeing her in front of him, shattered and in agony, knowing that he would have to sit this one out until she’d had a chance to process everything, left him feeling weak and powerless.

He watched her in stunned silence, unable to articulate feelings that he couldn’t make sense of. She was standing no more than three meters away from him but the distance between them felt like it stretched light-years. He couldn’t let her go to England with that hanging between the two of them, that ocean that would separate them felt like she would slip into another universe entirely and leave him with too much uncertainty about how things would be once she got back to New York. She didn’t give him a choice, though, her voice sounding abstract and unlike her own as she spoke into the void between them.

“I’m sorry, I just… I think I need to be alone right now. I need to wrap my head around this and it,” she paused for a moment, a shaky sigh filling the space. “It’s not fair on you for me to throw my emotions at you like this.”

“Rosie,” he spoke her name like a prayer, an oblique supplication that she heard but couldn’t accept.

“Please, Christopher. I know that you just want to help and, Christ, I appreciate you so much but I can’t accept your money, that’s just not my way, and I need to process this in my own way. I promise you though, I’ll let you know when I’m leaving for the UK and I swear that I’ll keep in touch.”

He hated it, all of it, but he loved her and he knew that she needed this, no matter how much it killed him to have to let her do things her own way. So that’s how he found himself nodding and respecting her request before folding her into his arms and pressing a kiss to her temple that he hoped would convey all of the affection and love that he held for her. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to cry as he drove back to his apartment and prayed to whoever was listening that she would be okay and that they would be okay, because if he lost that magic, if he lost her, he would have nothing.

It was two days later when Rosie reached out to say that she was at the airport waiting for her flight back to England, those forty-eight hours without talking to her the longest he’d ever endured. She assured him that while she was still not in a great place herself, that they were okay and that she appreciated everything he had offered to do for her. The messages were shorter than Chris was used to but it did help to make that feeling of distance between them feel a little less insurmountable than before.

*

June would usually have him heading to his coastal home in Connecticut or making the trip back to Massachusetts to be with his family, but he instead found himself lingering in New York, although with Rosie in England indefinitely he wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t committed to definite summer plans. If he really thought about it, though, really gave it more than a second’s thought and was completely honest with himself, he knew that he was waiting for her. He didn’t want to go home to Boxford and for her to come back to a city without him there. He wanted to be the one to welcome her back, pick her up from the airport and wrap her up in a hug that would have her never doubting how he truly felt about her. But really, when he spent time dissecting that desire to be there for her when she got back to New York, it actually stemmed from a desire to be with her, period. That was what had him picking up the phone and scrolling through his contacts, not even giving it a second thought when he hit that ‘call’ button but the guilt instantaneous when a sleepy voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I completely forgot about the time difference,” Chris exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You never call without texting first. What’s on your mind?”

Chris sighed into the receiver, using the pause to gather his thoughts into some kind of semblance of coherence rather than dumping them all out in one go.

“I don’t even fucking know anymore, Mika.”

Mika’s tone shifted as the last remnants of sleep fell away, taking on the familiar quality that seemed to be reserved only for Chris. “Did something happen between you and Rosie?”

“Not really?” Chris offered, unsure of the answer to Mika’s question himself. “It’s just… It feels wrong, all of this.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. What feels wrong? I thought you loved her.”

“That’s just it, Mika,” Chris exhaled. “I do, fuck, I love her so much and the fact that she’s there and I’m here-”

Chris’s deep sigh through the receiver had Mika sitting up in bed, his next words spoken with such a surety as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“So go to her.”

“What?”

Mika laughed so softly that it was barely audible, shaking his head despite Chris not being able to see him.

“Y’know, for someone so smart you really are dumb sometimes.”

“Okay, first of all, ouch,” Chris grumbled. “Second of all, rude. Thirdly, what’re you getting at exactly?”

“What I’m getting at,” groused Mika, too tired from being woken up in the wee hours of the morning to have any great level of patience. “Is that you should book a flight and get your ass to the UK.”

“Just like that? Just go?”

“Yes, Jesus, Chris. I don’t know what else you want me to say, man, it’s three in the morning here and Irma will kick my ass if I wake her up.”

“Right, yeah,” Chris mumbled, the guilt at waking up his friend rearing its head again. “Sorry, I know I shoulda thought about the time difference.”

“The only reason you have to be sorry is if you don’t pack a bag as soon as we’re done talking and go get on the next fucking plane to England.”

Chris paused, long enough to gather his thoughts but not long enough for Mika to be concerned.

“I guess I’ll let you know when I land then.”

“Give her a hug from me, Chris,” Mika said with complete sincerity.

“‘Course I will, and Mika?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, man.”

Mika smiled into the darkness of his bedroom before answering softly, “anytime.”

 *

Chris had never been to England before and he wasn’t afraid to admit that his geography knowledge of the country was somewhat lacking, so to say that this trip was going to be a baptism of fire would have been entirely accurate. He was a confident enough driver, if he were to say so himself, but he’d have been a big fat liar (to put it in Rosie’s words) if he didn’t admit that the prospect of driving the 160 miles from London Heathrow to Exeter, on the wrong side of the road he might add, filled him with a little bit of dread. But if there was a woman worth braving the complete absurdity of a roundabout for, it was Rosie.

He couldn’t help but feel like he was going behind her back a little bit, using the excuse of wanting to send flowers to her as a means to get her parents’ address when he’d spoken to her on the phone the previous morning. He hoped that she would be able to forgive his little deception and see the purity of his intentions behind it, although he did pick up some flowers on the way to her parents’ house from the small hotel he was staying at, wanting to fulfil that part of the bargain at least. His heart thundered in his chest as he turned into a quiet residential street that the GPS was signalling as being his destination. He pulled up outside the house, checking, double checking and triple checking that he had the right address before he shut off the car engine and got out, grabbing the large bouquet of flowers off the back seat. He can’t ever remember a time that his palms were this clammy or where his legs felt like they were about to give way from under him quite like they did at that moment as he walked up the short driveway to the front door.

He rubbed his free hand on the front of his jeans, taking a settling breath before he knocked on the door, unsure of what to expect when it opened. His eyebrows raised in surprise when an older looking gentleman answered, who looked equally surprised to see a slightly dishevelled looking, six foot three stranger on his doorstep.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Chris spoke, thankful that he was at least able to find his strong voice despite the distraction of his heart hammering in his chest.

“Alright there, mate?” the man greeted, with an accent that Chris noted to be far stronger than Rosie’s. “You lost or summat?”

“I hope not,” Chris laughed more out of nerves than anything else. “I’m actually here to see Roseanna.”

He hadn’t meant to sound so unsure of himself, his statement coming out as more of a question and nothing at all like his normal confident self. The older man didn’t seem to pay too much notice to it though, instead breaking into a smile that Chris recognised as being near enough identical to Rosie’s and gestured for him to come inside the house. 

“She’s just got back from walkin’ the dog, I’ll get ‘er for you.”

Chris watched as the man disappeared the short way down the hallway and called Rosie’s name into the kitchen, unable to stop the grin from forming on his face as he heard her voice reply to the man he had assumed to be her father.

“Someone’s ‘ere to see you, love, what? No, I don’t know who he is… maybe one of your university mates,” he turned back to give Chris a friendly nod before adding, “she’ll be right with you.”

Sure enough, no sooner were the words out of his mouth did Rosie appear in the doorway at the end of the hall, all red cheeks and light freckles from the sunshine. She stopped dead in her tracks, her face switching from total surprise at the sight in front of her to overwhelming joy before finally settling on complete disbelief at the realisation that Chris was standing right in front of her in the home she grew up in. Her legs instinctively carried her into his waiting arms, tears starting to fall before she could even register what was happening. Chris was certain that he would never forget the way she held onto him in that moment, with her face buried into his chest and her arms tight around his back.

“What are you doing here?” She finally managed, bringing her teary eyes up to meet Chris’s. “How? When?”

His only response was to kiss her forehead sweetly, holding her against his body like she was about to float away.

“I wanted to be here for you. I know you have your family but, God, it just didn’t feel right to be back in New York.” He stepped back from her a fraction so that he could offer the blooms he was still holding to her. “And I believe I promised you some flowers.”

“I thought you were sorting them with a local florist not travelling across the Atlantic to hand deliver them,” she laughed through her tears, a hand coming up to whack his chest lightly. “You are completely ridiculous, Christopher James Kreider.”

“Anything to see you smile, Ro.”

He kissed her hair before taking her outstretched hand and followed her as she led him into the kitchen to meet her family for the first time.

 *

The next few days had Chris feeling a little bit like a spare part. Rosie and her family were busy with the last minute preparations for the funeral and Chris wished that he could do more to help out but, just like always, Rosie managed to allay his worries and settle his heart by assuring him that his presence alone was enough. They’d spent their free time taking in the sights of South Devon, Rosie relishing the opportunity to show him around the place she grew up and all of her favourite spots. He particularly enjoyed the day they spent down in a place called Torquay, the beauty of the ocean and the way the sun kissed her hair had him feeling bold enough to reach for her hand as they walked along the sea-front while enjoying an ice cream each.

On the day of the funeral, Chris made himself completely indispensable to Rosie and her family, nothing being too much trouble. He held Rosie tightly throughout the ceremony, never once letting her go and whispered words of comfort to her as she said her final goodbyes to the grandmother she loved so much before they exited the church. He stayed by her side throughout the wake at her request. The emotional rawness of the day had her feeling more vulnerable than she would have liked but there was something about the way Chris’s hand rested above her knee as they sat around the table that had her feeling more grounded and centred than she knew she would’ve been had he not been there. It was easy for her to go back to Chris’s hotel with him, the emotions of the day still weighed heavy on her and she couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping alone.

The gravity of those feelings wasn’t lost on Rosie and she knew that sooner or later she’d have to really take a step back and take a good look at her relationship with Chris and what it all meant. It was easier to be dishonest with herself and keep up the pretence that they were just friends because if she let herself think about them being anything else for too long she would feel her chest tighten and hear her heart start to whoosh in her ears. Was it childish? Absolutely, but she’d be damned if she let herself get hurt by a man again. Her self-preservation mechanism had been working like a charm so far and if it wasn’t broken then why fix it? It wasn’t completely infallible though and after two bottles of Chianti and the way the lamplight accentuated the softness in his eyes, Rosie found herself slipping. 

“What’s on your mind?” He whispered, fingers finding her chin to bring her thousand yard stare away from the wall and back to his searching gaze.

“Everything,” she sighed softly. “It’s loud in my head tonight.”

“Is there one thing in particular that you can pick out?”

He took the wine glass that she was cradling and set it down on the table, taking her hands in his and rubbing his thumbs gently across her knuckles.

“Not really, today has just been a lot.”

Chris nodded in understanding, not wanting to pry further and cognizant of the emotional strenuity of the day. Instead he pulled her closer, nestling her into his side and pressing a gentle kiss to her hair.

“I still can’t believe you came all this way for me,” she murmured.

“Why darling,” Chris started, Rosie immediately recognising the quote as being Hemingway. “I don’t live at all when I’m not with you.”

She tilted her head up towards him, her lips impossibly close to his as her fingers danced along the stubble at his jaw and swallowed down the nerves that had lodged in her throat. She closed her eyes, so close to giving in to her heart and letting it win, for better or worse. Chris had been dreaming of this moment though, longing for it with every close call and missed opportunity. This is how it should’ve been at Christmas and all of the team events he’d the delight of having her on his arm, but instead he let himself chicken out, the fear of spooking her and losing her too much to allow himself to take the risk. But now, he had Rosie right there. She was impossibly close and all around him and he knew that if he didn’t take that leap and place his lips on hers, he might never get that chance again and that is what had him brushing his lips lightly across hers, his fingers finding a home amongst the loose copper curls that were glowing like hot coals in the low light of the room.

Instinct took over and had Rosie arching her body into him, her hands reaching up into his hair to muss the short curls. Even with her body pressed against his, Chris needed her closer, his big arms looping around her and pulling her into his lap. He kissed her desperately, a kiss to make up for all the kisses they should have already shared and all the words that should have been spoken. It should have terrified him, how easy it was to be with her like this and how easy the push and pull of it was, neither taking more than they were giving in the moment. This was what Boris Pasternak meant when he said ‘you and I, it’s as though we have been taught to kiss in heaven and sent to Earth together to see if we know what we were taught., Chris was sure of it because nothing could compare to how Rosie’s lips felt against his and the feeling of her hands on his skin. Her kiss was heaven and her eyes felt like home and Chris knew in that moment that he needed all of her.

As he carried her to bed, Rosie thought about how right being in his arms felt. It was a strong sense of belonging that she couldn’t ever remember having with anyone else - ‘whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same’, she thought. He spoke her name against her ear like a prayer, all the love and want for her conveyed in one simple word while he removed her dress with tender hands. Her body was laid on display for him like a canvas, his mouth was the paintbrush and Chris knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life painting a masterpiece onto her skin with his lips.

They moved together between the sheets as sure as the gentle waves that lap against the shore, her hands never feeling more at home than they did running up his back and over his shoulders before settling against the broad plains of his chest. Her every breath and every moan sounded like an aria to his ears and his name tumbling from her lips with every thrust of his hips was met with a moan of hers. He thought she could never look as good as she did underneath him, blooming like a rose, until he found himself on his back with her above him, her hair falling around them both like a curtain and her mouth panting against his as she rolled her hips. His hands made a home at the dip of her waist, guiding her in her movements but never taking the reins from her, giving her the control they both knew she needed in the moment.

It was intuitive, really, the way she was rocking her hips into his and the steady build of pressure in her stomach had her chanting Chris’s name like an incantation. He saw on her face the exact moment that the coil snapped, moaning as she fluttered and tightened around him and brought his hips up to meet hers as she rode the wave of her orgasm.

“I’m with you,” he murmured against her neck.

“Please, Chris. I need you.”

“I’ve got you, Ro. I’ve got you.”

She turned her face to meet his lips in a deep kiss, Chris moaning into her mouth as he spilled inside of her with stuttering hips. Rosie let out a contented sigh as she kissed him through his release, her chest pressed against his and her fingers playing with whatever ends of his hair she could reach. They stayed that way long after he’d gone soft inside of her, content to just bask in the afterglow of the moment as Chris’s fingers traced up and down her back. Rosie knew that she needed to have a frank discussion with Chris about her feelings but now didn’t seem like the right time for that. The sudden realisation that things would never be the same and that there was no going back to the way things were after this embedded itself like a seed, but Rosie let herself surrender to the feeling of safety and security Chris’s arms offered her before it could take root. She nestled herself against his side, her head resting on his chest with her eyes closed, and let his heartbeat be the gentle lullaby to lead her into the beautiful twilight.

 *

Chris awoke to the feeling of Rosie snug and secure within his arms, a peaceful look resting on her features that gave her an angelic quality. He let his mind wander to the night before and allowed the love he felt for her run wild through his veins and fill every corner of his mind, body and soul. For so long it had just been him and hockey, never subscribing to the idea that a person needed a relationship to be complete. But as he looked down and saw his entire world resting within his arms, he realised that he had been right all along. It wasn’t a relationship that made a person complete. It was love. That all-consuming wildfire that burns everything else away until there is nothing left but a new-beginning. He remembered the quote from Corelli that Rosie loved so much and felt everything fall into place. He felt like he’d waited a million years for this feeling and now that he felt it consume him like wildfire, he knew that he would have waited a million more, just as long as he had the privilege of being hers. It was surrendering all that he had ever been for everything that she was, for every kiss and every touch. Her love was his turning page and loving her was the greatest and best thing that he would ever do in his life, he was sure of it.

He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, eyes crinkling with his smile as she stirred.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he whispered against her hair. “You sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” she croaked, voice still thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

Chris looked over her shoulder at the clock on the nightstand. “Just gone eight-thirty.”

“Oh, okay.”

She furrowed her brows again, suddenly feeling Chris everywhere as pieces of the night before flooded her consciousness as she fully emerged from sleep and into the waking world. She was naked, she registered, and so was he and she was blindsided by an abrupt awareness that a definite line had been crossed that they could never go back from. It was that recognition of their friendship never being the same again that had her rolling away from Chris without warning. She was out of bed before he could even register what was happening, gathering up her clothes and dressing quickly without as much as a word.

“Rosie?” Chris was sitting up now, a slight waver to his voice as he spoke her name. “What are you doing?”

“I have to go,” she mumbled, an almost robotic edge to her tone that had Chris jumping out of bed and throwing on a pair of sweatpants, already catching up to her racing thoughts without her needing to say another word. He rushed to the door that she was making a beeline for, stepping in front of it and reaching desperately for her hands.

“Don’t do this, Ro… Please, don’t run from this.”

“Chris,” she warned, the emotion sitting dangerously high in her throat and her eyes glossing over with tears.

“What’re you so afraid of? I know you feel it too, Rosie. I know you do.”

“Chris, please,” she tried to brush past him but Chris wouldn’t let this moment slip through his fingers, not this time.

“No, we’re not doin’ this anymore. We’re not gonna spend the rest of our lives pretending that we’re just friends because we’re not, Rosie. I don’t think we have been for a long time- look at me, Ro, please.”

Chris saw the flicker of hesitation cross her face but the desperation in his voice was too much for her to ignore. She brought her eyes up to meet his and saw a fire burning within them that she had never seen before.

“I love you, Rosie. You have to know that by now.”

She shook her head vehemently, the tears she had managed so far to keep at bay finally slipping out and onto her cheeks.

“Don’t,” she whimpered. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“Who says I don’t mean it?” He brought his hands to cup her face to keep her eyes on him. “You? Do you think I’d travel across an ocean to be here with you now if I didn’t love you?”

Rosie answered only with a sniffle, the feeling of his touch along her skin anchoring her in a moment where she felt like she was drowning in a sea of every repressed emotion and feeling from the last eighteen months.

“But what if this doesn’t work? What if we’re better as friends?”

“I know you don’t believe that,” he wiped away the tears on her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “I know that you’ve been hurt before and I know that you’re scared. But you can’t keep holding on to the past, Ro, because if you do you’ll miss out on what’s right in front of you.”

“It’s not the loving you part that’s hard Chris,” she whispered. “It’s admitting to myself that it happened at all that is. I’ve had all these defences that have worked to keep me from getting hurt for so long but it was like you didn’t even see them at all, like they were meant for others while you had your very own door. I’ve spent so long asking myself why that is and come up with nothing. Do you know how terrifying that is?”

He kissed her forehead softly in response before pulling back to look into her eyes, making sure that she saw him, felt him, heard him. “In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

The corners of Rosie’s mouth quirked up into a smile despite her tears and her doubts, her favourite passage from Pride and Prejudice never sounding as good as it did coming from Chris’s mouth and extinguishing every fear she was holding within her heart. She closed her eyes and nodded, her lips connecting with his in a kiss that could’ve stopped the world from turning. She gave herself to him completely and surrendered to the overwhelming love that burned within her for him. There were no words that could convey to Chris just how much he meant to her but she hoped that ones from Rupi Kaur would do it justice:

“You might not have been my first love, but you were the love that made all the other loves irrelevant.”

Chris smiled against her mouth and kissed away every fear and worry until there was nothing left but him and her and the love they had for each other.

 *

Life continued much as it had before, a testament really to the relationship that Chris and Rosie already shared and the official label did nothing more than earn them a chorus of “it’s about time” from their friends and had Mika looking incredibly smug for the next few months. The passage of time only served to make their relationship stronger, both able to give themselves completely without the uncertainty of their feelings looming over them or holding them back. Rosie often found herself being struck by the easiness of their relationship and she never once found herself questioning Chris’s commitment to her and what they had. When he asked her how she would feel about ending the lease on her Brooklyn apartment and moving into his place in Manhattan she didn’t have to give it a second thought. Everything about it felt natural and they were both ready to take that next defining step in their relationship. Once Rosie’s belongings and houseplants were moved in, Chris couldn’t help but feel as if they had always been there, like his apartment was finally complete and that it was the home he had always imagined it would eventually be.

Of course, there were bumps in the road, both of them had been on their own for so long that they were set in their ways at first, but their disagreements never lasted long, their shared knack for communication often diffusing the situation before it had chance to grow arms and legs. The adjustment was harder for Chris in some ways, especially when things on the ice weren’t going so well and he would retreat into himself or misdirect his frustrations towards Rosie with a sharper tone than was necessary, but she stood firm, never one to suffer fools and for that Chris was eternally grateful. They complimented each other in ways they couldn’t even have imagined, Chris able to pull Rosie out of her own head when the world weighed heavy on her shoulders and Rosie never afraid to put Chris in his place when he needed it. As the months rolled into years and their love went from strength to strength, Chris knew for certain that she was it for him and there was nothing he wanted more than to start and end the day with Rosie for all of the days to come.

 *

Rosie looked at Chris with confusion as their Uber pulled up outside Westsider Books one early September evening. There was a faint glow of lights inside but it didn’t look as if the shop was open and Rosie couldn’t understand why Chris had brought her here when she was sure they closed at five.

“I didn’t realise this place opened late,” she said as Chris opened her car door and offered his hand to help her out of the car.

“I think it’s just a one-time thing,” he replied as he thanked the driver and closed the door. He placed a hand on the small of Rosie’s back and guided her towards the shop entrance, pushing the door open and gesturing for Rosie to go in ahead of him. Rosie wasn’t exactly sure what she was expecting to find inside, but hundreds of glittering fairy lights, candles and more flowers than she could count wasn’t even on the list.

“Chris?” she breathed, turning to look at him.

“If you were to list your top three favourite books of all time off the top of your head,” he started, wrapping his arms around her waist. “What would they be?”

“Christopher…”

“Come on, Ro,” he grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way she loved so much. “Just... play along… Please, for me?”

“Alright, well…” she conceded with a gentle sigh. “Off the top of my head I would probably say Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, For Whom the Bell Tolls and Pride and Prejudice.”

Chris’s smile somehow managed to double in size, the soft glow of the string lights and candles had his eyes sparkling like smoky quartz, the lush green flecks that usually lived among the dark bark of his irises hidden by the low light. He knew she would say that, of course, knowing her with an intimacy that even after all their years of friendship and the years of loving her still managed to knock him back a bit. He took her hand then, leading her along the aisle before stopping in front of a shelf with a dozen hand-tied sunflowers. He reached out and took a book from the shelf.

“Captain Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis de Bernières,” he murmured, passing the book to Rosie with an easy grin. “Go on, open it.”

He watched as she opened the cover of the book, her face softening at the sight of a delicate pendant necklace nestled between the pages. A small silver fern leaf hung at the end of the thin chain, a nod to the many houseplants she had brought into his home when she moved in that he had playfully grumbled about but in all actuality loved.

“Chris, it’s beautiful.”

He gently took the necklace from her hands and spun Rosie around, draping the chain across her chest and fastening it behind her neck with sure fingers before turning her back to face him, his eyes falling to the pendant that glimmered in the low light of the room.

“It looks gorgeous on you,” he smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Right, what was the next book? For Whom the Bell Tolls, right?”

“Chris, what is all this?” Rosie asked softly, taking Chris’s outstretched hand and following him down the next aisle to another shelf. He ignored her question, simply picking up the book and handing it to her.

“I love that you love Hemingway almost as much as I do,” he whispered softly. “Almost. You have no idea how much it means to me that I get to share that enjoyment with you and I want us to keep making memories together and sharing enjoyment of the things we love.” He watched her expectantly, waiting for her to open the book to reveal the piece of paper he’d folded in there. He took the book from her hands so that she could open it.

Rosie’s eyes widened as she read what she realised to be an itinerary for a trip to Europe next summer.

“I’ve only been to a couple of places in Europe,” Chris started. “And I figured who better to show me around than the girl who’s visited near enough every country on that continent?”

Rosie was unable to contain her sniffles by this point, overwhelmed at the thought and preparation that Chris had put in, not only in the trip to Europe, but this whole evening as well. She shook her head gently as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest.

“This is too much, Chris, you shouldn’t have.”

He pulled back from her just far enough to get her eyes on his, his face set with an expression that held all the love in the world.

“Ah, ah, there’s still one more book, which if I’m not mistaken is your all-time favourite and you, Roseanna Williams, are worth all the good things in this world.”

Her slung his arm over her shoulders and pulled her into his side as they walked back towards the front of the shop, Rosie gently wiping the tears away from her eyes. Pride and Prejudice sat pride of place in the middle of a small table, the book surrounded by petals. Chris gave her an encouraging look and stepped back as she picked it up, taking a small envelope from out of the book before setting it back down again. Her eyes found her name on the front of the envelope in Chris’s unmistakable handwriting before turning it over in her hands and opening it, pulling out what appeared to be a letter. She took a steadying breath as she began to read.

My dearest Rosie,

There will never be the words to adequately express just how much you mean to me or how grateful I am to have found you. You are everything that I didn’t even know I was searching for, that I didn’t even know I needed.

I never believed in fate, every happy accident is just that. A happy accident. Coincidence. Right place, right time. But you, you have opened my eyes to the idea of pure magic because how can a love like ours be founded on pure coincidence alone? How can a soul yearn for someone they had never met? I know now that the reason I found myself in this very book store on that day you came into my life was because your soul was calling me here.

In you I have everything I’ll ever need. No matter where my career takes me, no matter what lies ahead, as long as I have you I have everything. I love you more than anything else in this world, you have given me a higher purpose and I will spend the rest of my life making you happy if you’ll let me.

All my love, Always

Chris

We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright - E. Hemingway.

Rosie closed her eyes and let her tears fall onto her cheeks as she clutched the letter to her chest.

“Chris…”

“I’m gonna need you to open your eyes, babe,” Chris chuckled softly.

Rosie smiled as she allowed her eyes to drift open, her hand immediately coming up to her mouth as she stifled an unexpected sob at the sight of Chris down on one knee in front of her, a ring box open in his hand that looked as if it contained an entire galaxy of glittering stars.

“Ro, I can’t even remember what my life was like without you in it, I didn’t even know that I was in the dark. Until I saw your smile. It was only then that I realised and now I never want to live a single day without the warmth and light of your love. It’s us, babe. It’s always been us and it’s always been you, since the day we met. I didn’t even realise I was waiting for you and now that I have you, everything is as it should be. I love you, Rosie. I’ve always loved you and I would be the happiest and luckiest man on Earth with you as my wife. Marry me, babe?”

Rosie sank slowly to her knees in front of Chris, her hands reaching up and cupping his face as her tears fell. In front of her was a man who had given her everything, who had helped her to let go of the past and right now, he was offering her a future brighter and more wonderful than anything she could’ve ever imagined and never dared to dream she would have.

“Oh god, please tell me those are happy tears.”

She cut him off with a kiss, a kiss that gave Chris his answer without her even needing to say it. She kissed him with everything she had, kissed him with all of the love that coursed through her veins, kissed him until her lungs were gasping for air and she finally had to pull away, resting her forehead against his with her hands stroking along his jaw.

“Yes,” Rosie whispered. “A million times, yes.”

As Chris slid the ring onto Rosie’s finger, he took the opportunity to look into those eyes of hers that he’d grown to love so much. It was there that he saw their future, all of their hopes and dreams and the promise of all the joy in their lives that was to come and as her arms wrapped tightly around him, Chris felt their souls sigh as they folded into one another. Chris couldn’t tell what the future had in store for them both, but no matter where their path together would lead them, it was in her embrace that he found solace and it was in her heart that he found a home.

#chris kreider #chris kreider fic #nhl fic #nhl fiction #nhl fanfiction #chris kreider x ofc #nhl writing #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey fiction #chris & rosie #turning page universe #my writing

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Drawings on Ice (Part Two) | Charlie Gillespie

A/N: Part two to the Hockey Player! Charlie x Artist!Reader au! Hope you like it! :) You can read part one HERE

Pairing: Hockey Player!Charlie Gillespie x Artist!Reader

Warnings: a fight, mentions of blood, curse words

Words: 3,948

There hasn’t been a day you didn’t spend together. You go to every single one of his hockey practices and games, after which you head to the café for some coffee -- or in Charlie’s case, hot chocolate. He joins you and Andrea on your study dates, mostly to just annoy you by poking you with his pencil, begging you to go somewhere else. On nights where he doesn’t have practice and you’re not in the library to study, the two of you spend time in either one of your dorms to watch movies or tv-shows, cuddled up on the bed. 

Though a lot of people started thinking  you are a couple, you hadn’t talked about that with Charlie yet. Even after him telling you about that reputation of his, you still wanted to be cautious. Your heart has been broken many times, you didn’t think it could handle another. Especially with a guy like Charlie. “Hey, Gorgeous,” Charlie greets flirtily when you arrive at the ice rink to watch him practice. You’ve got your sketchpad clutched to  your chest, ready to work on some of the Hockey Team’s drawings. “Hi, Char,” you say back, unable to withhold a giggle at his pet name for you. He’s been calling  you Gorgeous since the day after you went to the coffee house for the first time after the game. “Don’t you have to go and listen to what your coach is saying?” you ask, noticing the other’s gathering to listen to the coach’s instruction. He glances back at the team, then turns back to you with that charming, flirty smile of his you’ve come to love. “Nah, I’d rather say hello to a beautiful girl than listen to the coach blab about strategies that don’t work.” You roll your eyes at his obvious flirty behavior. Lately, though, he’s only ever flirting with you. You haven’t seen him talk to many other girls except you and Andrea, and between the two of you, he only ever flirts with you. Mostly because Sam will kill him if he does flirt with Andrea. “Hey, will you stay until after practice? I wanna show you something!” Charlie is always excited about everything, but this time, it tops all the others. His eyes are sparkling with hope and excitement, the hazel color turning more gold than brown, and his mouth is curled up into the brightest, widest smile you’d ever seen. “Yeah, of course!” you reply, trying to match his excitement. “Gillespie, get your ass over here!” Coach yells at him, which Charlie rolls his eyes at, making you chuckle. His gloved hand takes yours, basically ripping it off your sketchpad, and kisses your knuckles before giving you a wink and then skating off to join the team. All the boys welcome him back with a teasing uproar of cheers and wolf whistles. You chuckle, rolling your eyes amusedly, and then make your way to the bleachers where you continue working on your drawings, glancing up every now and then to watch Charlie on the ice. There was something about the way he skated around. So elegant. So peaceful. Charlie really is in his element on the ice. It’s the most adorable and attractive version of Charlie you know of. It’s the side of him you love the most since it’s the side you draw him in the most. Practice is over sooner than you thought it would and it only takes Charlie about fifteen minutes to come out of the dressing rooms, showered and ready to go. “Are you ready?” he asks, taking your hand to help you up from your seat. “I have no clue where we’re going, but yeah?” you reply as he leads you out of the rink, still holding your hand while your other clutches your sketchpad. He takes you across campus, going way faster than your feet can take. Your giggles fleet through the night sky, making some heads turn of students on their way to a party or their dorms. He takes you into the astrology building, through hallways and corridors until you reach the auditorium. He lets go of your hand and pushes the heavy doors open. You’re amazed those doors aren’t locked, but you’ve learned to just roll with whatever Charlie’s doing. The sight you’re met with right now is a breathtaking one. Blankets and pillows on the floor, food spread all around it, a guitar on the side, fairy lights scattered all around to illuminate the dark room, and, most importantly, a breathtaking view on the night sky. You scuffle inside, giving your eyes the time and pleasure to take it all in as Charlie stands back, watching you with an endeared, tender smile on his face. Once you feel you’ve seen everything, you turn around to Charlie. “Wha--? Charlie?” He laughs at your surprised and confused face before walking up to you and taking your hand again, now leading you towards the pile of blankets and pillows. “I’m buddies with the astrology professor, he gave me the keys and Andrea and her friends helped me put all of this in here,” he explains as the two of you sit down. With your mouth a little ajar, you look up to the beautiful stars above you. Charlie’s hand comes into your peripheral as he’s pointing up to show you something. “That’s the Big Dipper up there, right above us,” he informs you. “And that one over there,” he moves his hand slightly, “is Sirius, it’s considered to be the most beautiful star, but I beg to differ.” You look at him, finding him already looking at you with that flirty smile on his face again. “Oh, shut up.” You slap him on the chest playfully, unable to hide your smile or the blush that’s creeping up on your cheeks. Charlie definitely notices, but doesn’t say anything. Just knowing he has that effect on you, is enough for him. “So,” he opens the basket and takes out a bottle of white wine. “Andi told me you liked white wine, so… I told her she could buy a bottle she thinks you’d like and I paid her.” You chuckle at his explanation and nod your head. “I do love a good white wine.” He pours some of the goddess liquid into two glasses, and hands one to you. “You really are a charmer, Gillespie,” you say as you clink your glasses together, looking in each other’s eyes. “Is it working yet?” he asks while you take a sip. You let out a small moan at how good this wine is before looking up at Charlie again, a little confused at what he’s hinting at. “Is what working?” He chuckles nervously, twirling his wine around and staring at the whirlpool it’s creating. “What?” you chuckle, trying to capture his eyes. He finally looks up at you, his eyes sparkling with joy and hope, his mouth curling up into the most tender smile you’d ever seen. “What, Charlie?” you try again, getting a little insecure. “I thought it’d be pretty obvious right now that I’m insanely in love with you?” he blurts out with a nervous quiver in his tone. You’re taken aback by this answer. You knew he kind of liked you and his flirty behavior has increased over the days, but you thought that was it. A crush and a bit of harmless flirting. Nothing quite as serious as being in love. “Oh…” you manage to bring out. “Charlie, I--” he shakes his head, shutting you up. “No, I get it, Y/N. It’s fine. You don’t want to date someone with a reputation like mine. I get it…” You exhale slowly and place your glass of wine on the floor before grabbing Charlie’s hands in yours. He looks up at this, unsure of what’s happening. “It’s not you, Charlie.... I don’t care about the reputation you have because I get to see who you really are… And I like you, but I’m trying to be cautious with who I’m dating. My heart’s been broken many times before, and before you say ‘I’m not going to break your heart’, I know. You’re probably not, but… I just…” You heave in a deep breath, trying to think of something. “Just give me some time, okay?” You place a hand on his cheek and rub your thumb against the soft skin as it wrinkles into that beautiful, charming smile again. “Yeah, okay,” he replies, placing his hand on yours on his cheek. “We still… We still get to hang out though, right?” he queries carefully. You chuckle at this, retreating your hand, and nodding. “Phew! And you’re still coming to the game tomorrow?” “Yeah, of course. Wouldn’t want to miss it,” you reply and grab a grape from the basket. “Good, because I’m going to need my lucky charm when we play against St. Mary’s.” You shoot him a questioning look, tilting your head slightly. “They’re our biggest rivals. They’ve won against every other university, including us last season. We really have to beat them tomorrow.” You nod your head understandingly. “I’ll wear my best cheerleading outfit,” you say jokingly. Though, judging from Charlie’s eyes nearly popping out of his eye sockets, you know he’s not opposed to that idea. “I don’t have a cheerleading outfit, Char,” you tell him, just to be sure. His face falters, clearly disappointed. “You’d look hot in that though,” he mutters under his breath, but you heard him, loud and clear. With an amused smile plastered on your face, you shake your head at him. Even after his confession from earlier, nothing has changed between the two of you.  And for now, that’s all you need. 

Dressed in black skinny jeans, Charlie’s Canada sweater he left in your dorm one night, and a beanie over your ears, you go to the ice rink. Andrea has already taken a seat in the bleachers, so you go up and join her. “How was your date last night?” she asks immediately without missing a beat. “It wasn’t a date. But it was really fun. Thank you, by the way. The wine was divine.” She chuckles and taps your thigh twice. “You’re most welcome,” she says. “Oh, look! Here come the boys!” she points to the ice where the team skates onto the field, ready to kick St. Mary’s ass. You lock eyes with Charlie as he gets into position. His lips turn up into a somewhat relieved smile, like he was scared she wouldn’t turn up after his confession last night. You offer him a wave and then a thumbs-up, shooting some encouragement his way. The first half goes really well. Charlie and Sam score most of the goals, but by half-time, they’re tied with St. Mary since their right and left wings are amazing players too. The coach calls the team to gather as you and Andrea make your way down to say hi afterwards. “St. Mary’s left wing has a weak knee,” you tell Charlie when he’s skated up to you, taking his helmet off and shaking his hair out. “Hello to you too,” he chuckles, placing one gloved hand over yours as they clutch the rink. “Sorry, hi! I saw their number 12 buckle a little when you accidentally hit his knee. I think you could use that to your advantage.” You’d never paid this much attention to a game, but knowing the team has to win against St. Mary, you figured you could use your observation skills to your advantage to find one for them. “Look who’s paying attention,” he smirks at you, which you amusedly roll your eyes at. “Thanks,” he adds when the ref blows his whistle to signal the start of the second half. “Good luck, Char,” you say and lean in to plant a kiss on his cheek. His eyes widen slightly at the sudden display of affection, unable to hide his cheeks reddening. You can’t help but smile as he skates off, ready for the second half. “You can’t tell me you’re not in love with him, Peaches,” Andrea says as she snakes an arm around your shoulders whilst you both walk back to your seats. “I am not in love with Charlie, Andi,” you reassure her, but you’re not even so sure anymore yourself. You’ve caught  yourself thinking about Charlie on more occasions than one, dreamt of kissing him, wished you could just spend more time with him. You knew you were slowly, but surely falling for him. Even after many attempts of occupying yourself with other thoughts. Nothing really seemed to work. But you were still going to deny it. To Charlie. To Andrea. But mostly, to yourself. You were so preoccupied by talking to Andrea, you didn’t even notice what was happening behind  you as you were getting back to your seat. “Yo, Gillespie,” St. Mary’s number 12 captures his attention, “Isn’t that new love of yours the weirdo artist kid that draws everyone they see like a stalker?.” Charlie’s jaw clenched as his hands balled up into fists. Sam intervenes before his buddy can take as much as a step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not worth it, man. Let’s just finish this game, okay?” Sam suggests. Charlie nods his head, calming down slightly as he starts making his way to his spot on the ice, only for number 12 to add some fuel to the fire. “What’s wrong, Gillespie? You’re not even going to defend them?” Charlie halts, trying his hardest to refrain himself. “So, you agree with me that they’re a fucking creepy stalker?” Charlie’s hands are back into fists, gripping harshly onto his hockey stick. “I can’t wait until after the game, so I can--” before number 12 finishes his sentence, Charlie drops his helmet and harshly tugs his gloves off before hitting the guy in his knee with his stick, making him tumble over onto the ice. He sits down on top of him, lashing out at the boy underneath. The ref whistles again while Charlie’s teammates try to get him off number 12, to no avail. Number 12 then takes over and rolls the both of them over, Charlie underneath him now, and punches him in the face a few times. You watch the spectacle from half-way to your seat, staring at the boys on the ice in pure shock and horror. You’re frozen in place, unsure about what to do. Though Charlie looks extremely hot, yet it looks so horrible. Why is it when boys fight, does it look so horrible, yet, feel so right? Soon enough, the boys are pulled apart by their coaches. There are blood splatters everywhere. On the ice, on the boys’ clothes and faces. Even on some of their teammates. The two are taken off the ice, another one filling in for them. Upon seeing this, you run down to where Charlie and his coach are, worry filling up your entire body. “Charlie!” you yell, but he doesn’t even look up. Sam comes up to you and tells you they’re thinking about taking him to the hospital. “Fuck,” you mutter. “Thanks, Sam.” You rush over to the bench where a doctor is taking care of Charlie’s wounds. “Charlie,” you whisper when you reach him. Another one of his teammates makes room for you to sit, which you do with a thankful smile towards them. “Is he gonna be okay?” you ask the doctor. “We’re gonna take him to the hospital for some check-ups, mainly to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion. But other than that, he’s fine.” You exhale slowly, then turn to Charlie again, grabbing his cold, bloody hand. “Hey, what happened?” you ask softly. He relaxes again upon hearing your melodic voice filled to the brim with worry. “Char, talk to me…” He looks up at you now. His right eye is punched shut and turning blue, his lip cut open and blood running from his nose. “He was saying things about you, Y/N. I couldn’t not do anything. He just made me so fucking angry,” he growls, tearing his eyes away from you again. You place your other hand onto the one you’re holding, trying your hardest to warm it up a little and to comfort him. He was defending you from God-knows-what awful things that number 12 was saying about you. He defended you in your absence. And looked so hot while doing it. “Alright, let’s go, Gillespie,” the coach says and hands him his shoes. You let go of his hand, so he can exchange his skates for his shoes, and look up at the coach. “What hospital are you taking him to?” you ask him. “Horizon’s,” the older man replies, and then helps Charlie up his feet since his leg has been brutally attacked by the number 12 too. “Come on,” he mutters. You get up too, and watch as Charlie limps by his coach's side. You turn and rush to Andrea again, only then realizing there were tears running down your face. She wipes them away with her thumbs, and looks into your eyes intensely. “Go! You can take my car.” She hands you her keys, kisses you on the cheek, and lets you go. You run to Andrea’s car and drive a little past the speed limit to get to the hospital as fast as possible. You know what you’re doing isn’t very safe, but you need to get to Charlie. You need to see him and make sure he’s okay. “I’m looking for Charlie Gillespie, he’s been brought in a little while ago?” you breathlessly ask the woman behind the front desk. You’re still panting from running from the car to the building. Your heart is going ten miles an hour, but it’s been doing that since the moment the fight broke out. “He’s gonna be in room 403, they’re still doing some tests, but you can wait for him there. It’s up to the fourth floor, you can take the elevator down the hall, there.” You nod at the woman, offering her the most thankful smile you can muster before making your way to the fourth floor. Your feet are getting sore from all the running, but you try your hardest to ignore it. There’s no stopping now. You have to be at Charlie’s side. Room 403 is empty, except for a wardrobe, a nightstand and a single armchair. He’s not here yet. You take a seat on the armchair for a few seconds, but then get back up and start pacing the room. Your nerves don’t allow you to sit still. You comb your fingers through your hair, muttering curses to the hospital staff to hurry their stupid tests. Something must be wrong with Charlie. There’s no other reason why they’d take so long. Not that you have a lot of experiences with hospitals except for maybe seeing a relative die in one, but never ever something like this. “Hey, Y/N, right?” a voice makes you snap out of your train of thoughts. It’s Charlie’s coach, carrying some of Charlie’s clothes in his hands. “Uhm, yeah, hi.” He offers you a smile as he walks in and places the clothes on the armchair. “They’re finished with the tests, he’s gonna be here in a few,” he informs you. “I’m gonna get something from the cafeteria, do you want anything?” You jam your nervous hands into the pockets of your jeans. “Oh, no, thank you,” you say and shoot him a stiff smile. He nods curtly before moving out of the room and leaving you alone again. This time, though, it doesn’t last too long. Within a minute, two nurses wheel him into the room on a hospital bed. You quickly move out of the way. He looks so fragile and broken on that hospital bed with all his wounds and bruises, and his eyes drooping from tiredness. “There you go, mister Gillespie,” the young man says as he puts the brakes on the bed, to make sure he doesn’t roll away again. “Ring if you need anything.” The other turns to you and says, “All tests went well. He has a slight concussion and some broken ribs, but he’ll be fine. Just make sure not to talk too loudly because that’ll give him a headache.” “Okay, thanks,” you give the two nurses a smile and let them walk out before you move to Charlie’s bedside. He looks at you from underneath his lashes, noticing how nervous you are, and reaches for your hand. “Hey,” he croaks out. “How are you feeling?” you ask. Your voice croaky from the tears you’re holding in. “I’m okay,” he answers, “Please, tell me that asshole looks worse than me.” He chuckles, then whinces at the pain his laughter causes to his ribs. “I’ve got no clue. I didn’t really look at that dude, I was too worried about you.” He smiles at you tenderly and brings your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “Charlie, I--” you start, but cut yourself off, not knowing how to say what you want to say. “Hey, come here,” he scoots over clumsily, giving you some space on the bed. You debate the option, but after looking into his pleading eyes -- or pleading eye since one is pretty much just punched shut -- you get on the bed, one leg dangling off. “What was he saying about me that made you so mad?” you ask, not at all what you wanted to, but you’re going with it for now. “He called you a fucking creep and a stalker because he somehow found out you draw the people you see?” Your heart skips a beat. He defended you for the one thing you were bullied about in high school. “I just… I know how much you hated that when it happened to you in high school, and because, you know, I’m in love with you and I don’t ever want you to feel that way again…” You smile a little at his second reason whilst butterflies well up in your stomach. “Charlie…” you start, making him turn his head at you. “Remember when I asked you for some time?” He nods his head slowly and carefully. “That was yesterday, so yes, I remember. I only have a slight concussion, babe.” You grab his hand in yours, rubbing circles on the back of his hand as you bite your lip nervously. “I don’t think I need any more time…” you carefully look up at him to see his surprised, and hopeful reaction. His eyes are sparkling again. Much like the stars you were watching last night. “So, does that mean I can finally kiss you?” he tries. One corner of his mouth curls up, and when you nod, the other follows. “Fucking finally!” he exclaims before gingerly grabbing your face with the hand you’re  not holding and bringing you closer to him to press his lips to yours in a long-awaited, passionate kiss. One that ends too quickly with a hiss from him. “That hurts doesn’t it?” you ask worriedly. “Only the normal amount,” he shrugs and kisses you again before you can say anything else. “The normal amount is no pain, babe,” you mumble against his lips. Charlie doesn’t listen though, and instead, deepens the kiss even more. He’s been waiting for this to happen for weeks. Weeks of constant flirting and taking you on stargazing dates or coffee dates or pointing at you whenever he made a goal. Weeks of pining for the most beautiful artist he’s ever met in his life. And now, he’s finally kissing you. Finally. 

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @thequirkybookaholic​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ifilwtmfc​ @angryknightstatesmantrash​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​ @rudysbay​ @parkeret​​ @lukeys-giggle​ @gingerxarmy​ @lovesanimals​ @lolychu​ @perfectlywrongformend3s​ @luckylouiebug​  @camiladelrio98​ @myfriendscallmebeans​

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #jatp #jatp fic #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie au #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie x reader #artist!reader #luke patterson #reggie jatp #jeremy shada #alex jatp #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #julie molina #madison reyes #jatp fandom #fantoms

[ghstandpucks]

Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch. 4

Hey everyone! I hope you are all doing well and having a nice Friday! Thank you so much for all your kind, supportive words! I’m so glad you are liking this series! Disclaimer for this chapter: I’m sorry if you like Ashley Wagner as a figure skater. To be honest she bothers me which is why I picked her for a little conflict that may or may not happen during the season lol 

Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think! Also, let me know if you would like to be tagged in the upcoming chapters! Thanks!

Prologue  Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3

“Nope. Try again,” you said as Andre tripped over his feet and missed the net. It was Monday morning at practice and you had just shown your group the three-turn move that Nate suggested you teach them. Andre groaned and looked over at you.

           “What is the point of this?” he asked.

           “The point is to be more fluid. You guys do this already, you just need to follow through with it and not be choppy,” you responded.

           “Maybe we are choppy because we have to keep the puck with us,” Andre grumbled and tried again, still not entirely succeeding. To be fair, not many had been successful that morning.

“You guys just need to keep your momentum,” you tried to explain. They looked at you like you were crazy. You quickly skated over to the side and grabbed a stick, becoming exasperated that they seemed not to believe you that it would work. Taking one of the pucks, you quickly did the move and shot the puck straight into the net. You turned back to your group and laughed at their dumbstruck faces. Honestly, you were even shocked that you made, but you couldn’t show them that. “So that’s how you do it. Any questions?” They all shook their heads no. “Okay then, line up,” you said, deciding to keep the stick with you. Though it still seemed foreign to you, you felt more comfortable with it. As the group you had started to get it, you smiled and looked down the ice to find Nate already looking at you. He was at center ice in another group, and when you grabbed the hockey stick a few of the players and coaches stopped to see what you were doing. He didn’t bother to look away when you met his gaze, but instead nodded at you with an impressed face. You shrugged and laughed, turning your attention back to your group.  

           The groups rotated about 30 minutes later, and Nate skated right up to your side. “Look who’s becoming a hockey player,” he teased you quietly. You giggled and elbowed him.

           “I told you it wasn’t that hard,” you said, adding “and you owe me two laps.” Nate looked at you unimpressed.

           “Are you serious?” he asked.

           “Can’t have people thinking I’m a pushover, right?” you laughed. Nate rolled his eyes, but smiled at you as he took off.

~ ~ ~

           The following day you stayed after practice, seeing as the team had Wednesday off. You were in the middle of your billman spin when you caught the outline of a blurred figure every rotation you made. You finished the spin, letting go of your right leg and checking out. Glancing toward the side, you found Nate standing there. He smiled as you skated over to him, shifting his weight from one foot to another slightly. That’s when you realized he had his skates on. “Mind if I join you?” Nate asked. You shook your head and smiled up at him.

           “You aren’t mad at me for making you skate laps?” you joked. He chuckled as he stepped out onto the ice.

           “Completely. Those two laps were the worst thing I had to do yesterday,” he answered with a wink. You laughed and skated around the perimeter of the rink with him. The two of you spent about two more hours on the ice, talking and doing different things, but always ending up back next to each other. You sat next to Nate on a bench off the ice to take your skates off while continuing your conversation. “So how did you get into skating? In Canada hockey is huge. I can’t imagine it’s the same in Southern California,” Nate asked after he had told you how he started playing hockey, and you smiled.

           “So I was actually a dancer when I was younger. My parents put me in ballet when I was about 2 in a half because I was that hyper child that needed something to do,” Nate chuckled at that. “Anyways, I had an older cousin who was taking skating lessons and had her like 10th birthday party at the rink. I was 4 and one of my other older cousins offered to skate with me. And I fell in love the second I stepped onto the ice. I asked my parents after the party if I could start skating and they signed me up for classes. And you should know as of last week with Z that I am a competitive, stubborn little shit of a person so I jumped at the idea of having a coach and competing. And I never looked back. The rink is my happy place, it’s where I feel most myself, and everything that has come along with it is just a perk,” You smiled, drying off your blades and putting your soakers on them.

           “Oh yes, an Olympic gold medal is just a perk,” Nate dead panned, but you could see he had a smirk on his face.  

           “I mean I worked hard for it. But it never felt like work because I love to skate,” you replied simply. Nate smiled softly at you, and you thought you would never get used to the way it made your stomach flutter.

           “That is beautiful Coach,” he teased you, and you knocked your shoulder into his arm. He laughed as you barely even moved him, more just bounced off of him. “I’m being serious Y/N. Obviously you are an amazing skater, and we are lucky to have you.” Nate said sincerely. You looked away as you started to blush.

           “Well you aren’t so bad yourself mister,” you tried to joke back to cover up how much his words were actually affecting you. Nate chuckled and shook his head.

           “I just try my best. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough, but I try,” he admitted.

           “But that’s all you can do, try. And you have a whole team behind you to support you,” you said, feeling that he was just like you; extremely tough on himself. “Plus, from what I’ve seen you’re a pretty good skater,” you smiled as he met your eyes after putting his skates away.

           “Only pretty good?” he teased, and you laughed.

           “Well there’s always room for improvement,” you said, teasing him back. Nate let out a chuckle and followed you out of the rink, walking with you over to your jeep.  

           “So, we have tomorrow off…” Nate started, rubbing the back of his neck. You smiled and nodded, encouraging him to continue. Nate wanted to just ask you out, but he wasn’t positive where you stood. You were nice to him, but you were nice to everyone. He decided to go with what he had already offered before to be safe. “Do you still need to get a bookshelf?” As he asked, you couldn’t help as your smile became brighter at the thought of hanging out with him away from the rink again.

           “I do actually. I was planning on doing that tomorrow,” you hoped you weren’t blushing too much, but Nate could see it and it only gave him more confidence.

           “I can come over around noon. We could get some lunch then get your book case,” he suggested, trying to gauge your reaction. You smiled shyly, knowing your blush had to be evident at this point. Nate thought it looked adorable. Here you were, this Olympic gold medalist becoming shy when he was asking you to hang out.

           “That would be great, as long as you don’t mind helping me,” you said. Nate beamed at you.

           “Not at all.” You smiled back at him and said your goodbyes with the promise of seeing each other tomorrow. You drove home, nervous and excited for being able to hang out with him more one on one.

           The next morning you woke up and busied yourself trying to clean up a bit. Not that you were messy, but you needed to move some boxes out of the way to make space for your book shelf. Getting dressed in some simple jeans and a black tank with a long, velvet deep yellow cardigan over it, you were just putting on your converse when Nate showed up at your door. You insisted on driving, sure that you would buy more than just a bookshelf and didn’t want to cram it all into his car. Nate directed you to a cute sandwich shop downtown for lunch, and the two of you talked the whole time about everything and anything. It felt so natural to be around him; the two of got along very well. Both of you being extremely competitive athletes, you also understood each other on a different level. Getting through lunch relatively unnoticed, Nate was amused when you were the one approached for a picture and not him. He couldn’t help but smile at the way you talked to the young girl and encouraged her to keep working on a jump she said she was having a problem with. After lunch, you and Nate went to Target and picked out a simple bookshelf. You also grabbed a few more things you could not leave the store without and Nate pushed the cart along, teasing you when you couldn’t pass up buying a few new books as well. Traveling from competition to competition always provided reading time, so you figured road trips with the team would provide the same.

           Once back at your apartment Nate took over constructing the book shelf while you unloaded your boxes for it. The day carried on with playful banter and you could feel your crush growing even stronger. Nate was feeling the same. It was nice for him to be around someone who didn’t seem to care that he was a professional hockey player. He felt that he could really be himself around you. Between the laughing, lunch, shopping, and setting up, it was 7pm before you even knew it. “Do you want some pizza?” you asked him as you placed a candle on one of the shelves.  

           “Don’t tell my coaches,” he winked and you laughed.

           “Never,” you said, asking him what a good pizza place to order from would be. “I’ll order a veggie one. That will make it a healthy meal.” Nate laughed and offered to pay, but you insisted being that he spent his whole day helping you, plus bought lunch. When the pizza arrived, you made your plates and sat at the table. “Do you ever miss being home with your family?” you asked after he told you all about them.

           “I do yeah. I love them and being able to spend time with them. But I’ve made Denver my home also and this team is like family. I’m happy being here with them,” Nate answered sincerely.

           “I think it’s really great you guys all have each other. I’ve never been much of a team player so I’ve never experienced that kind of bond,” you admitted.

           “You have to have friends through skating though, right?” he asked.

           “Yes and no,” you shrugged. Nate gave you a questioning look. “Girls are mean.” Nate broke out laughing. You laughed too and continued. “Once you get to a certain level, like you support one another but if someone your competing against falls you don’t feel bad. And I know that sounds horrible, but when there are only usually 3 spots on the Olympic team every four years, and the competitive span of a female figure skater is only like six years at senior level depending on how fast you learn, it’s a super competitive atmosphere. You tend to become better friends with people you won’t compete against. So like for me, my best friend is Jeremy Abbott. He’s kind of like an older brother to me. And I’m close to a few ice dancers. But any female single skater friend either tends to have gone through the ranks before you, or you start mentoring someone younger as they hop onto the circuit and you phase out. I think I’m better friends with girls I have competed against now that none of us are competing anymore. That’s just kind of how it goes,” you tried your best not to make it sound like you were a horrible person. Nate nodded thoughtfully, then grinned at you.

           “Does this mean you have an arch enemy that we all have to look out for?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his question.

           “Unfortunately, kind of. Playing the Stars should be interesting this year.”

           “Playing the Stars is interesting every year,” Nate muttered. “Who is it?” he asked curiously.

           “Don’t say anything ok. I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t be talking bad about another skater in this program,” you pleaded. “Plus the press already thinks we don’t like each other. I don’t need to be the one to add fire to that flame.”

           “Yeah I’d rather not talk to the press so your secret is safe with me Y/N,” Nate said, leaning in closer as to convey confidence.

           “Her name is Ashley Wagner. She was annoyed that in my first competition I bet her and knocked her off the podium completely. And every competition since I had beat her,” you explained and Nate nodded along. “Also, if you meet her, don’t let her fool you. She seems nice, but she’s not that great. She purposefully tripped me during warm ups once. That’s when all the rumors started flying around.” Nate looked at you surprised.

           “You didn’t do anything back to her?”

           “No,” you laughed lightly. “That’s not what you do in my sport. I kept smiling and brushed it off best I could.”

           “Alright. So we’ll have to protect you around her. You’re too nice,” Nate grinned at you. You smiled back and cleared both of your plates as you had finished eating.

           “Shut up. She’s a coach too. It should be fine…I hope.” Nate shrugged at your reply, taking a seat on the coach and making himself comfortable.

           “I don’t know. Hockey might just bring out the worst in both of you.”

           “Gee, thanks Nate. Glad to know you’d have my back if it came to blows,” you plopped down next to him. Not too close, but close enough the you could knock your knee into his. Curling your feet up on the couch, you both smiled lazily at each other.

           “Don’t worry Coach, I’ll be your back up. Tyson will probably be your hype-man,” Nate teased, reaching to shove your shoulder slightly. When his hand came down though, it rested slightly touching yours, and neither of you moved.

           “Sounds about right,” you tried to laugh your nerves off. Nate decided to take a leap, and placed his hand over yours. He smiled when he felt you intertwine your fingers with his. The both of you sat in comfortable silence for a minute. Nate was about to speak when your phone started to ring, ruining the moment.

           “I’m sorry,” you said, looking at your phone and seeing that it was Jeremy calling. You denied the call, but your screen just lit up again. “Speak of the devil. I can call him back later. I’m sure it’s not important.”

           “It’s fine. It’s getting late, and we have practice tomorrow so I should probably go,” Nate said, letting go of your hand and standing up. You were going to kill Jeremy.

           “Well thank you for coming over and helping me,” you said as you walked Nate over to the door.    

           “Anytime,” Nate responded, stopping just outside and turning back to you. “We should do it again sometime.”

           “Put together a book shelf?” you raised your eyebrow, hoping you weren’t over analyzing the moment the two of you just had. Nate chuckled and reached out for your hand again.

           “No. Lunch, dinner, this,” he squeezed your hand for emphasis. You blushed and nodded. “A book shelf if you really need another one,” Nate added, making you giggle.

           “That would be nice,” you responded. Nate grinned at you, and with one more squeeze of your hand he dropped it.

           “See you tomorrow Y/N,” he said, backing away from you.

           “Get home safely Nate,” you said, smiling at him till he turned around and walked down the hallway. You shut the door and locked up, walking back to the couch and the now 6 missed calls from your best friend. You called him back with a sigh. You didn’t give Jeremy a second to talk when he answered. “You better be dying to have called me this many times.”

           “Calm down, I just wanted to talk to you. Why weren’t you answering?” he laughed.

           “Nate was over. I think we were having a moment and you ruined it,” you complained.

           “Shit…sorry!” Jeremy responded. There was a pause, then he spoke again with excitement. “Now tell me all about it.” You laughed and launched into the story about your day, all the meanwhile looking forward for the season to begin, and to be able to see where things were headed with Nate.  

tags: @bqstqnbruin​ @avsfans95​ @andreiaafaria​

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon x reader #nate mackinnon imagine #nate mackinnon x reader #Cutting Edge

[beecherdrysdale]

Hiiii my bbs, I have literally been dreaming about going to Greece sooo I hope this is good

Adding onto brigids thoughts:

Okk so half of us pass out in the Uber that we take to the airport, so everybody is just holding onto each other barely awake or literally just fall asleep on you while waiting in line to get to security. Hehe ofc Ryan gets lost, and he’s like panic calling us and I just start laughing at him through phone. But then he finds us and I get beeped at security as usual and he’s chirping me and he gets beeped too and I chirp him, so it gets a bit chaotic at security.

Look at you brigid being organized and not over packing anything. I do the same thing to I just always add extra everything hehe. Hehe yes ‘Quinner how do you have more shit then me’ quinner likes pack extra as well hehe . We have a mini competition to see who brought more clothes lol.

Okkk everybody, Brigid has chosen, she is officially Jamie’s girl :)). Anywayssss you and Jamie are just sleeping and cuddling each other. You are in Jamie’s hoodie 🥺. Kesh and Kirby are also cuddling each other. Aww yes I’m in Quinners beanie !!. So far me and Ryan aren’t chirping you lol cuz it’s reallyyyyy early.

I wear a hoodie and sweats as well or for my bday my brother bought me a really cute sweatsuit so I might wear that lol. But I would love to wear Quinners 😌hehe we get on the plane and it’s you + Dylan and cozzy and Jamie sees and gets jealous ‘no Jamie I just got comfortable’ ‘please cozzy she’s my GIRLFRIEND’ and cozzy gets mildly terrified and says ‘only for $50’ so that happens and Jamie is super happy that he gets to sit with you. Hehe me and Ryan chirp you guys. Ok so I’m behind you, Jamie and Dylan. Then quinton, Braden and Peyton are behind my row. Kesh and Kirby are just sitting away from everybody because they aren’t ready to deal w us yet lol.

You+ Jamie +dyl. Okk so you are watching an action movie. Dylan falls asleep real quick, and you see that he’s in an uncomfy position so you just help him get more comfortable. So now that Dylan’s passed out Jamie cuddles up to you and you start playing with his hair and he loves it and it’s making him fall asleep but he’s still trying to stay awake because he wants to be w you. But you reassure him and help him get comfortable. You wrap him in a blanket hehe. Brigid you have a hard situation here because you have two hockey players asleep on you. After a bit they wake up to eat and make you rewatch the movie and your like why do I have to I didn’t pass out. Oo uno is fun, same with poker. But Jamie gets bored and just starts to braid your hair while you play with Dylan. Also when Jamie wakes up he whisper ‘thank you baby’ and you give him a kiss. Oo also while he’s sleeping you trace his freckles 🥺.

Kesh and Kirby are just chilling and being adorable. They both just make sure that they are comfy. Top tier couple.

Lexi+quinner(+Ryan)- hehe yes Quinner is immune to coffee even after drinking his two cups and half of mine. We made Ryan carry the drinks cuz we are clumsyyyyy. Awww yes, I’m vv in my Quinner feels tonight so Quinner falls asleep on me and I cuddle him and play with his hair because I am not giving back that beanie. I’ll make sure he’s comfy and all. Haha yes me and Ryan are just super loud and competitive w the game we are playing, probably uno, poker or connect 4 lol. And you turn to us and say ‘guys can you shut up, Jamie and everyone is sleeping’ and we are like ‘ok and?’ And you chirp us and we chirp you back until we realize that we really don’t want to wake everybody up lol. Ya I get up a lot on the plane so Ryan and I and you would just be walking along the aisles hehe. Ryan gets tired eventually and passes out and Quinner wakes up and we have some cute moments🥺. We just cuddle and I lay my head on his shoulder and he kisses my mild freckles.

Let’s say we are in first class cuz we got good salaries lol and we really need the leg room since we tall. Airplane food isn’t to bad. But the snacks would be elite. I’ll make sure to get our snacks brigid cuz we have similar tastes in snacks :)). Hehe yes I keep stealing snacks from them, and then get hungry and ask me to give you some but I get annoyed lol. So the y start throwing the snacks and accidentally hit Jamie and Dylan in the head but thankfully they didn’t notice.

Okkkk so now the captain announced that we are landing in like 10 mins and everybody is just super excited to get off the plane. Oo Jamie keeps showing you things through the window 🥺.

Ok so we landed, I get up quick and so do some off the other boys so that the team can get off the plane first. It’s kinda chaotic with everybody trying to get their luggage and some people get smacked in the face. Question does your hair start to curl when the air is humid. Cuz that always happens to me and it’s what I love about traveling to warm places because my hair looks good lol.

Okkk so pass border control etc and all get out of the airport. Also you and Jamie are holding hands the entire time ;)). Would you rather rent a car or take a taxi to the hotel?. Anyways we leave the airport and everybody is just so happy that we are in Greece right now!! It’s sunny and beautiful.

Skip to getting to the hotel: I think our hotel is pretty nice, and we get there at like 2 . would you share your room with Jamie or get a solo? Anywayssss we get to the hotel and all say that we are going to meet up to go to the beach for a bit? Because we just wanna wake up and cool off in the water and possibly tan.

Brigid you walk out in your bikini and Jamie is in awe like how is she that gorgeous. And some boy makes a comment and he glares at him. And he literally carries you into the water. Kesh and Kirby just want to be constantly around each other so they are cuddles to together under an umbrella sipping on drinks or possibly swimming together. Quinner and I are racing each other into the water, and then we both tackle each other at the same time. And then we see who can jump over the wave. And maybe we just hold onto each other and have moments😏 same w you and Jamie .

Side note: I’ve had some bad/funny experiences w waves because some big ones just pulled me under and I would just land on the shore lol. It would take me such a long time to regain my breathing lol.

Some of the boys are chilling and tanning because they want to get some good tans. Some boys have already met some girls and some are in the water with us.

Later we all go shower and get changed to go out for dinner w the team. I never blow dry my hair esp on vacays because it dries really quickly and I get curls wbu? You me and kesh get dressed into really cute summery outfits, I see myself in a flowy skirt and a tshirt or a sleeveless top- I am owning the freckles on my arms hehe. Brigid I can see you in shorts or maybe even in a denim skirt? And in a top that shows your pretty bralette. Kesh I see you in a sundress? Like a red or yellow sundress that looks amazing !!

They boys are speechless because we are owning our outfits. Anywayssss we all go to a restaurant by the beach and just have such a nice time. And maybe after some Brigid +Jamie and Kirby +kesh time on the beach at night 😏

Okkk I hope this was ok. Pt 4 will be more of our trip !!

omgggg i love all of this! lexi you’re amazing, thank you for providing the quality team canada content it is amazing. anywayssss long post

haha all of us just falling asleep on each other in the car and then when we’re in line for security. like jamie just rests his head on my shoulder while we’re standing there and somehow falls asleep lol. and then ryan gets lost bc ofc he does and we’re laughing at him but then we’re like oh shit we need to help him find us so we don’t miss our flight. so then we help him back to security where he and lexi both get beeped and chirp each other about it lmao

hehe yes i finally chose jamie🥰. dyl and i are more like chaotic best friends who are maybe a little flirty but ultimately are just friends lol. so anywaysss jamie is the softest bf so he lets me wear his hoodie and we cuddle up and sleep together in the airport🥺 and kesh and kirby are also cuddling and lexi is wearing quinner’s beanie that she stole lol. and thankfully ryan’s still tired and lexi’s busy with quinner so they won’t start chirping me and jamie yet. and also we’re all wearing the boys’ sweartshirts that they gave to us

hehe yes then we’re on the plane and jamie sees me with dyl and cozzy and he just begss cozzy to switch with him. and cozzy’s already gotten comfortable so he’s like “no jamie just sit in your own seat". but jamie’s like “pleaseeeeee it’s my girlfriend”. so then cozzy seeing the perfect money-making technique (and also mildly terrified lmao) it like “fine i guess i’ll switch but only if you pay me $50″. and jamie’s just like “done” and hands the money over. so then jamie and i are both really happy and ofc you and ryan are awake enough to chirp us now lol. and the two of you are sitting behind us with quinner and then quinton, braden, and peyton are behind you guys. and kesh and kirby aren’t ready to deal with us bc it’s too damn early so they purposely chose the seats far away from us lol. and the other boys are just scattered throughout the plane

me+jamie+dyl - so we’re watching our movie and dyl falls asleep realllll quick bc he didn’t sleep at all in the airport. so then i help him get comfy bc besty things and i feel bad for him bc i think sleeping in airplanes is uncomfy lol. and then jamie cuddles up to me and i start playing with his hair🥺 so then he starts falling asleep again so ofc i help him get comfy and give him a blanket so he can sleep. and then while he’s sleeping i get to play with his hair and trace his freckles🥰 so then when he wakes up he just kind of mumbles “thank you baby” and i’m like “of course” and kiss him. and then they make me rewatch the movie with them and i’m just like “whyyyyyy” but then i make them play uno and poker with me so it’s all good. but then jamie gets bored and starts playing with my hair and braiding it🥺 and it actually turns out decent this time

kesh+kirby - perfect, amazing, adorable together. trying to keep us under control, but eventually just give in and ignore the chaos and pretend they don’t know us lmao

lexi+quinner(+ryan) - hehe yes lexi and quinner made ryan carry the coffee bc they’re too clumsy and then quinner drank a shit ton of it, but he still manages to fall asleep on the plane. and then lexi makes sure he’s comfy and starts playing with his hair, all while wearing his beanie ofc. but then you’re being super loud and competitive with ryan playing a ton of games and stuff. so then i’m like “guys stfu, jamie and the other guys are sleeping” and you guys are like “so what?” before realizing you really don’t want to wake everyone up. so then you guys shut up and start wandering the plane lol. but then eventually ryan gets tired and falls asleep and quinner wakes up and you guys are being all cutsie. and you’re cuddling and kissing each other’s freckles and then me and jamie chirp you guys bc payback lol

hehe yes first class bc rich boyssss. so we actually have pretty good food but the snacks are still better. and then eventually the guys just start throwing snacks to me bc it’s faster than handing them to you to hand them to me lol

and then we’re about to land so jamie’s pointing out things out the window to me and getting super excited, so ofc i’m excited too. and then we land and all get up fast af bc we’re not waiting for other people to get off the plane lol. also i pray to God that no one in our group claps when the plane lands bc that shit pisses me off lol. so anyways it’s just chaotic getting our stuff and getting off the plane lol. my baby hairs would be getting curly from the humidity, but the rest would just turn wavy. so anyways then me go through border control and me and jamie are holding hands and so are kesh and kirby but lexi and quinner can’t bc they both have sm shit to carry lol. and then we rent a car to take to the hotel and everyone’s just in a super good mood bc we finally made it

hehe then we finally get to our hotel which is nice bc again rich boyssss. and then me and jamie would share a room bc i’m broke lol and also bc i love him and want to be as close to him as i can😍 so then we put our stuff in our rooms and get ready to go to the beach. and then obviously all our boys are so impressed by us in our swimsuits, and each of them (jamie, quinner, and kirby) is just like “damn she’s gorgeous, how’d i get so lucky” and then some guy tries to like catcall me and jamie just death glares him lmao

hehe jamie just carrying me to the water “jamie i can walk myself yk” “ik i just love you, i want to carry you” “ok thank you bb” and then kesh and kirby ALWAYS together. swimming together, cuddling together on the beach, going to get food together etc. and then lexi and quinner racing and tackling each other into the waves and stuff lol. and i make jamie join bc i’m a competitive bitch lol and i obvi can’t just leave him alone. hehe getting pulled under by waves isn’t a problem for me bc i have good breath control lol. and then you and quinner and me and jamie could have moments😏 esp bc we’re in the water which makes everyone look extra hot. meanwhile the other guys are like all playing volleyball together or picking up girls lmao

then we all go shower to get ready for dinner. personally i never blow dry my hair and my showers are really fast so i would be ready fast lol. ooh lexi and kesh looking cute, lexi with her sleeveless shirt and flowy skirt and kesh with her sundress. i’m wearing shorts bc i basically refuse to wear anything else lol. hehe but i have a cute shirt that shows off a cute bralette so it makes up for my lack of skirt lol. and then the boys are just speechless bc of our outfits and they’re making sure to keep us close the whole night. oooh and then beach time at night😏

okkkk i love all of this and i’m so excited for part 4!!

#ask answered #anon answered #skating anon

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 22 | Morgan Rielly

A/N:  Thanks again for all the positive feedback!  We’re already at Chapter 22 and only in February.  I would like to say that there isn’t going to be any more drama, but the whole ~incident~ happens in March and, of course, Boston happens in April.  So…yeah.  For now, at least, happy times ahead! This chapter didn’t end up AT ALL where it was supposed to go, but I’m actually happy about that.  Some might call it filler (because it technically doesn’t contain any Morgan/Bee interaction) but I see it as pretty important.  

Hockey Night in Canada was quickly becoming favourite night of the week, especially when the Leafs were playing at home.  She had never been a hockey fan before Morgan, but now that she was – at least partly – she could feel the energy in Scotiabank Arena pulse through her veins.  She could feel it outside on the streets, walking past fellow Torontonians going to watch the game at a bar, at a friend’s place, or anywhere else.  She could even feel it within fellow fans, buzzing around the arena and getting close to the glass during open skate.  

Tonight, in particular, was a big one – Leafs vs. Canadiens.  Morgan had explained to her enough about the historic rivalry between the two teams, and even Aryne pitched in with a “Now they hate us even more because John wouldn’t grant them an interview.”  The energy was palpable.  And if Bee knew anything about Habs fans, it was that they were everywhere in Canada – even where you least expect it – and that they always travelled to support their team.  Even tonight, in prime enemy territory, she spotted a lot of Habs jerseys.  It was going to be a great Saturday night.  

But right now, all she cared about were babies.

Briony loved babies.  She loved them.  And she loved one baby in particular: Henry Gardiner.  He was the cutest, chubbiest, most perfect baby in all of Toronto and when any opportunity to hold or play with him came up, it excited her to no end.  Bee wasn’t going to have babies anytime soon, so when the opportunity arose to do literally anything with babies, she was the first to volunteer.  So when Bee saw Lucy had brought him to the game wearing and a cute, custom-made onesie that looked like a Gardiner jersey with hockey pants, she was over the moon.

“He was being really fussy…is being really fussy tonight,” Lucy said as she tried to bounce him in her arms.  

“You want me to hold him for a bit?  At least while we go down to the ice to say hi to dad?”

“Yeah, that could work,” Lucy agreed, handing her five-month-old over to Bee.  “What do you think, Hank?  Wanna stay with Auntie Bee?” she cooed.

Bee balanced his chubby body on her hip.  He looked up at her with his big blue eyes and she almost melted right then and there.  “Hi Henry!  Are we gonna be best friends tonight?  Are you gonna give Morgan a run for his money?”

“Henry you wanna go see Dada?  Wanna go see Dada?” Lucy smiled as Henry smiled at the word ‘Dada’.  Lucy slipped on his blue pair of baby headphones to protect his ears from all the noise before setting her diaper bag on the chair.

As the pair slowly made their way down the steps of the lower bowl, they eventually got to the glass in the corner, which was already surrounded by fans taking pictures of the team.  They stood back for a while, watching the team skate and shoot pucks as Bee bounced Henry in her arms and pointed out all the players to him.  He obviously couldn’t hear a thing, but he followed her points and let out happy noises the more she bounced him.  Eventually, some fans noticed them and made way for them to go right against the glass.  Bee held Henry close to the window, pointing at Jake.

Jake took a few more shots at the net before he saw them, quickly making his way over.  Like clockwork, a cameraman and photographer appeared beside them and started snapping pictures of Henry and Jake smiling at each other.  Bee thought it was out-of-this-world adorable, but also thought it was slightly awkward since she was neither Henry’s mom or Jake’s wife.  “Maybe you should take him,” she giggled, handing back to Lucy with open arms.  

“Yeah, let me hold him until they leave,” she agreed, bringing Henry a bit closer to the glass.  Jake continued to smile and wave, and the fans around them practically awed in unison.  Morgan came skating behind him, stopping briefly to wave at Henry and smile at what was transpiring.  He pulled a silly face to try to get Henry to laugh.  Instead, Henry looked at him, his little baby eyebrows furrowing, before he began to fuss and cry slightly.  Jake hit Morgan and Morgan made a dramatic ‘oops’ face before winking quickly at Bee.  She shook her head at him as he skated away.  

“Ooookay, that’s enough of Dada and his friends,” Lucy said, trying to calm him down.  “You want to go back to Auntie Bee?  Seems like you liked when she held you,” she said, handing him back into Bee’s arms.

Like previously, Henry began to calm down as Bee held him and bounced him on her hip.  Lucy began to thank the fans for making room for them, and as she did, Bee noticed a group of three young girls – they couldn’t have been older than 21 – recording them on their iPhones.  Bee tried not to look their way or give them any mind, but when she overheard one of them say to the other, “That’s Morgan Rielly’s girlfriend,” her breath couldn’t help but hitch in her throat.  

“Let’s get back to our seats before the Zamboni comes out,” Lucy said, unaware of the girls filming.  “Hank’s really scared of them and Jake’s still upset about it.”

As they made their way back to their seats, they saw Aryne and waved, Penny following close behind her.  They nestled into their seats – Lucy near the aisle, then Bee, then Aryne, then Penny – as Bee turned Henry to face forward to look out onto the ice, bouncing him slightly on her knee.  

“Are you girls ready for a shit show?” Penny asked.  “I don’t know if you saw, but Max Domi has already been chirping a few of the boys.”

The girls rolled their eyes, but Bee had no idea who Max Domi was.  “Who is Max Domi?”

Penny cringed.  “Don’t ask.”

Aryne looked over at her.  “Max is a player on the Habs.  His dad Tie used to play for Toronto from the mid-nineties to the mid-2000s,” she explained.  Bee was so grateful that Aryne and the other girls were still patient enough to explain things to her.  “He just crawls under people’s skin.  He likes to play dirty.  And ever since he got traded to Montreal and became a Hab, he’s been shitting on Toronto – literally the city he grew up in – every chance he gets.”

Bee furrowed her brows.  “So you’re telling me he’s a dumbass.”

The girls burst out into laughter at Bee’s deadpan delivery.  “Exactly,” Penny snorted.

“If he so much as touches one of our guys tonight I’ll go down there and fight him myself,” Lucy warned.  “I haven’t slept in two days and I’m surviving on cereal and smoothies.  I’m a ball of rage.”

Henry seemed content to stay on Bee’s lap during the first period, despite the constant grimacing, flailing of arms, screaming, and general scowling from the ladies.  By the end of the period, the Leafs were down 3-0, and Bee got the gift of seeing first-hand what kind of a player Max Domi was.  Though he hadn’t scored any of the goals, he was being an asshole, completely targeting Freddie and riling up Johnsson – of course, the referees called nothing.  Bee knew she always had to be mad at the referees.  

As Lucy left with Henry to change his diaper, Bee spent the intermission on her phone catching up on the day’s news events.  She was pretty busy at work these days, and throughout all the meetings Mark liked to spontaneously plan and the working lunches they’d have, she wasn’t able to catch up on anything during the day like she used to be able to when she was in-between classes.  She was nervous for the second period too – a lot of the fans that had made their way out into the concourse were grumbling about the lacklustre period and 3-0 score.

“The boys better make a comeback,” Aryne said almost to herself.  “I’m not putting up with any gloating Hab fans, and I’m sure as hell not putting up with a gloating Max Domi.”

Bee snorted at Aryne’s words as she opened Instagram, scrolling through her feed and liking pictures.  She had made it private back when Angie called her in Vancouver, but that didn’t stop people from somehow stealing her pictures – like Aryne showed her on Valentine’s Day – or stop them from trying to tag her in videos or send her DMs.  The tags were relentless – every picture someone stole from her profile, they’d tag her in it again, as if they wanted her to see that they stole it.  And now, there were more tags to sift through.  The girls who had recorded them at the glass had of course already uploaded the video to Instagram, and it was making the rounds.  She was tagged four times from four different accounts.  She watched the video, and obviously it was cute because of Henry, but the girls were in prime position to catch Morgan winking at her before skating away.  Perfect position.  She could only imagine what people were saying about it, and she didn’t want to read the comments.  Instead, she went to her Instagram DMs to clear her inbox.

So what, are you Lucy’s BFF now or something?

LMAOOOO now ur trying to get mo to have a baby with u U R PATHETIC!!!

R u pregnant

I know it’s your man’s jersey and all but it’s really doing your body no favours.  Have you gained weight?

“Whatcha reeeeading?” Penny asked.

Bee sighed dramatically.  “Well Penny, apparently I’m forcing Morgan to have a baby with me,” her voice was deadpan.

Penny snorted at the delivery.  “Oh how I just love Instagram DMs,” she giggled, shaking her head.  “Don’t worry, I’m only with Will for his money.”

“Oh, of course!  Morgan’s my sugar daddy!” Bee exclaimed, causing Penny to laugh even more.  “These girls see one video and think I’m pregnant.  It’s so weird,” she focused back on her phone.

Maybe Lucy should give you some yoga lessons so you can lose some weight.  She looks better than you do and she’s had a baby.

I told u we’d find pics of u and mo.  You’re not sneaky.

You guys looked really cute in Vancouver!!!!!  Can’t believe you met his parents already does that mean you’re getting married?????

You and Mo are rly cute

You’d look better with a nose job and some upper lip filler.  Just saying.

How kind of them to suggest a nose job and lip fillers.  Like women around the world weren’t already insecure with themselves.  She deleted everything, not bothering to read anymore.  She deleted the list of them until she heard a crying baby, bringing her back to reality and what really mattered.  When she finally looked up, she saw Lucy coming back with a crying Henry, and more fans filing back into the arena for the start of the second period.  

“He is being so incredibly fussy it’s driving me insane,” Lucy’s voice was exasperated as she sat back into her seat.  “The entire time he was wailing.  Just wouldn’t stop crying.”

“Awww, come here my chubby prince,” Bee cooed as she took Henry from a tired Lucy’s arms.  “You gotta let mommy rest.  Why’re you being so fussy?”

It took a few moments, but he eventually stopped crying and settled down, again looking up at Bee with his big blue eyes.  He even gave her a smile and giggled at her smiling down at him.  Lucy put her hands up in dramatic frustration.  “You’re like the baby whisperer tonight!  Seriously!” she exclaimed in astonishment.  “I can’t believe this!”  She even took out her phone to snap a quick picture of Henry smiling up at Bee, and Bee smiling down at him.  “You’re stuck with him the whole night if he’s going to be like this with you.”

“I’ll hold him the whole game if I have to,” Bee smiled.  “I’m not joking.  You want me to rock him to sleep?  Tuck him into bed?  I’ll do it.”

“Don’t tempt me.  I might take you up on your offer.”

As the second period started, Lucy fetched Henry’s bottle from her bag, and Bee fed him.  Auston scored early in the period, with Morgan getting the primary assist, and Bee hoped that the goal was a kick in the ass for the whole team to start scoring.  When Tyler scored a powerplay goal near the end of the period, she was confident they would come back.  And as always, Max Domi was being a pest, but because the boys were answering back, he didn’t have that much to say.

Then Willy scored in the third period to tie it and Penny went crazy.  Henry fell asleep and was snug in his carrier when Zach tied it and everybody in the arena went crazy.  Then the Habs got upset.  Four unanswered goals.  On the jumbotron, they showed Morgan and Max going back and forth, chirping one another with a body in between them, holding them apart.  God, Bee hated fighting, but if Morgan had slapped the smirk off Max’s face, she would have had no problem riding him across the Pacific Ocean.  She even fanned herself as the girls pointed it out to her and had a laugh about it.  A fifth goal by Johnsson, getting his payback on Max.  A sixth goal by Zach, again.  Six unanswered goals.  One hell of a comeback.  Sweet sweet revenge.

This is the hockey Bee could get used to.  

As fans began leaving the arena after the 6-3 win, the ladies took their own way to the locker rooms.  In the elevator, Bee took out her phone and saw she was tagged in yet another photo – but this one she would definitely keep.

@lucygardiner_: Henry loves his Aunt Bee! <3  Uncle Morgan has to work on his funny face game though…

It was the photo she had taken earlier of Henry looking up at her smiling.  With both of them smiling and the sea of blue jerseys behind them, it did make for a very cute picture.  Bee liked it immediately and decided to comment.

@brionymctavish: Heart eyes for my chubby prince!  Uncle Mo’s baby blues ain’t got nothing on Henry’s

***

“Listen, I know you have work tomorrow but can I please come over?  I don’t want to watch this alone.”

Thus began the night of February 28th, the dreaded day – the day John Tavares returned to Long Island.  The media had been hyping the return for days, and truth be told, Bee thought they were making a bigger deal than what needed to be made.  They kept stressing the fan reaction, the videos they posted online of them burning John’s jerseys, which was absolutely ridiculous.  They kept asking John annoying questions about it, and they kept asking players on the Islanders annoying questions about it.  Bee wished it could all just end, but they needed to get through the game first.  

Aryne showed up to Bee’s apartment with takeout Greek food.  They didn’t even bother setting it up in the dining table – they just took their spots on the floor and spread everything out on the coffee table in front of the TV.  Coverage was already on, and the guys on Sportsnet were blabbering on about something.  Judging by the time, Bee knew the boys would be on the ice soon for the pre-game skate.  She didn’t need to wonder what the reception for John would be since she was being told for an entire fucking week that it “wasn’t gonna be good”.  

“Are you looking for places?” Aryne asked as she sat down on a pillow, looking at Bee’s laptop screen of apartment listings.  

“Oh.  Yeah,” Bee nodded her head.  “I can’t live off of Naz and Ashley forever.”

“It’s not like they’re going bankrupt,” Aryne quipped.

“Yeah, but I’m earning decent money now.  They can at least get the income back from leasing out this place,” she shrugged her shoulders, wanting to drop the subject.  “Have you talked to John?”

Aryne nodded her head, opening the takeout container to reveal her gyro.  “He’s fine.  At least he seems to be.  He’s seen some of his old teammates already and they caught up, which was nice.”

“That’s good,” Bee offered gently.  “Does it feel weird for him being back there?”

“I don’t think so,” Aryne said.  “I mean…he spent nearly ten years of his life there.”  She looked at the TV and they both noticed the teams making their way on to the ice.  The camera was focused solely on the Leafs.  “Can you turn it up?” she asked.  

The more Bee turned up the volume, the more boos could be heard.  The arena wasn’t even at full capacity but they were deafening.  Between keeping the focus on John, the camera also panned to people and signs in the crowd.  People who had taped up their Tavares jerseys and re-wrote ‘Traitor’; people who made a sign saying ‘We don’t need you’; people standing and booing and giving the middle finger with one hand while a beer was in another.  It was gross.  

“How could they be so awful,” Bee said more so to herself than to Aryne.  Seeing person after person with toy snakes and throwing them on to the ice was not funny.  It was not amusing.  This was a person that was their captain, and here they were disrespecting him and treating him like shit when he did so much for their team.  Bee looked over at Aryne, who didn’t seem to blink as she watched the clown show in front of her.  “We can change the channel if you want.”

“No,” Aryne answered.  As much as it pained her to watch, she couldn’t.  “I promised John I’d watch the whole thing no matter how bad the fans were.  I’m watching it for him, not for them.”  She worded it perfectly.  This wasn’t about them, no matter how much they wanted to make it about them.  Aryne knew that.  Bee knew that.

They watched in silence as John made his way back to the tunnel.  All of the sudden, something flew across the TV screen heading towards John’s head, narrowly missing him, making both women gasp in fear.  They held their breath as the replay occurred, Bee’s hands over her mouth.  “It’s a jersey.  It’s a jersey,” she said quickly, noticing the colours on the object being thrown.  The distinct blue and orange couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.  

When she looked over at Aryne, she could see tears welling in her eyes.  “Aryne…Aryne it’s okay,” she said, crawling over to her side of the table before giving her a quick hug.  “It didn’t even hit him.  The guy missed.  It didn’t hit him.”

“Why do they hate him so much?” she asked, her voice shaky as she continued to look at the screen.  “He was the backbone of that team for years.  He moved there alone when he was eighteen years old to play for them and this is how they repay him?”

“Aryne, they’re being dumb.  They’ve been amped up by the media and this is just theatrics,” Bee tried to calm her down.

“I don’t get it,” she shook her head.  “You just…you spend nine years of your life somewhere, building your life and career, and they just turn on you at the drop of a hat…just because you want to go home.  Just because you want to play for your childhood team.  Because you want to be close to your family and start a family of your own,” she lamented.  “My God.  I don’t even know why I’m crying.  This…this is definitely pregnancy hormones,” she was embarrassed as she wiped away the tears.  

“It’s okay to be emotional about this Aryne,” Bee said softly, rubbing her back.  

“He’s just so happy to be home, Bee.  Why can’t they see that?”

“They’re blinded by their anger, but that’s not your problem,” Bee said.  “He was a UFA Aryne.  What was he supposed to do?  Stop playing hockey just to make them happy?  Play somewhere he wasn’t truly happy?  Play for his childhood team when he only had a half a tank of gas left?  That’s not far to him and his goals.  Even if hockey wasn’t a part of it at all.  He made the best decision for himself and for you both and they don’t want to see that.”

Aryne didn’t say anything.  She wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks before laying her head on Bee’s shoulder.  After a while of silence, she finally said in a soft voice, “I think the reason I like you so much is because you just…you see things outside of hockey.  Sometimes I forget what it’s like.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just have this perspective the rest of us don’t have,” she said without elaborating.  “Never lose it, okay?”

The boys played like shit.  They didn’t show up for one of the biggest games of the season – there was no other way to put it.  They let John down.  After Zach opened the scoring and got another goal taken away (because of the “offside” rule, which Bee still thought was a completely made up call), the team was sucker-punched to a 6-1 loss.  It was brutal.  Every time John touched the puck, the crowd booed so loudly it almost drowned out the announcers.  Bee hated it.  She never wanted to experience another game like this again.  

This was not the hockey she wanted to get used to.  

“Are you sure you don’t want to just crash here tonight?  You must be exhausted,” Bee asked as Aryne was packed up to leave, taking most of her uneaten gyro with her.

“I’ll be okay, don’t worry.  At this time of night the drive is nothing.  Plus, John will probably call and want to talk,” she explained, putting her Styrofoam container into a plastic bag.

Bee kept ruminating over what Aryne had said to her earlier.  ‘You see things outside of hockey.  You have this perspective the rest of us don’t have.’  She wondered what Aryne meant by that.  She knew it wasn’t super invested in hockey.  She knew that Morgan had only ever played for the Leafs and he had never switched teams, been a UFA, signed an offer sheet, demanded a trade, any of that.  She knew she was only getting one perspective, especially since Morgan wanted to stay a Leaf forever.  Despite being from Vancouver, they were his childhood team.  His dad fist-pumped on camera when the Leafs drafted him.  Aryne had been through so much more than she had, yet she was the one telling Bee ‘You have this perspective the rest of us don’t have’.  “Hey Aryne…” she began, unsure if she should bring it up.

“Mhmm?”

“You know…you know before…before the game started.  How you said I see things outside of hockey and that I have a perspective the rest of you guys don’t have?  What did you mean by that?”

Aryne stood still.  “I didn’t offend you did I?”

Bee shook her head vehemently.  “No no.  Not at all.  I just want to know what you meant.  I’m wracking my brain trying to figure it out.”

“Do you promise not to hate me if I explain it?”

“I could never hate you.  The only reason I could hate you is for telling me who Max Domi is.”

Aryne smiled before getting more serious.  “A lot has happened to you this year, with the break-in and with your mom dying.  A lot has happened to you in your life.  And somehow, you’re still…it never seems to phase you.  And…I don’t know.  It brings me back down to earth a little bit.  When I get stressed over John or hockey or whatever else, I just think about all you’ve been through and how you’ve overcome it all with such grace and a good head on your shoulders and I just think ‘Man, this girl’s got it all figured out.’”

“I don’t have it all figured out,” Bee shook her head.  “Far from it.”

Aryne bit her lip.  “Listen, you just prioritize the right stuff in your life.  You prioritize yourself, your relationship with Mo, your job…not a lot of girls your age that we know can say the same thing.  That’s why Sydney reacted the way she did when you mentioned having a career and the fact that Morgan liked you having one.  A lot of people lose sight of what is supposed to matter and all they end up caring about is their boyfriend or their wedding or how they look on Instagram.  But despite all this new stuff around you, all this money and all this privilege, you’ve never lost sight of what truly matters.  Even the way you brush off all the DMs you get on Instagram.  And I don’t want to patronize you and tell you I’m proud of you, even though I am, and I’m not saying that you’re a saint, but it makes me think about the priorities in my life,” she absent-mindedly put a hand over her baby bump.  “Hockey is there but it’s John’s priority more than it is mine.  I care about my husband, my family, our growing family, our friends who are like our family.  And in the grand scheme of things, stuff like what happened tonight…it doesn’t matter.  You get that.  Somehow, without having been involved in hockey for years or without being involved in the wag lifestyle that so many girls think is an absolute dream when it’s really not…you get that.”

“I don’t know what to say Aryne.”

Aryne shrugged her shoulders.  “I just think we can all learn a little from you, that’s all.  Remember where our real priorities are.  Because it’s not with the Chanel bags, or the gala events, or the mingling with Toronto socialites, or the Instagram feed showing off your new lip fillers and the picture perfect way your boyfriend has proposed.  It’s with each other.”

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs imagines #toronto maple leafs fic #nhl playoffs #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fic #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #alone together series

[timetravelingheart]

My Side of the Fence Part Two: A.M. Imagine

Thank you so much for all of the love on the first part of this! I honestly wasn’t expecting anything and was just hoping for the best. I realized I didn’t do disclaimers on the first one, but I don’t know if this series will need any. I haven’t decided how comfortable I am writing smut yet, but if I choose to go down that road, I will definitely put a warning! Thank you again for reading. And as always, feedback and asks are always appreciated! 

Auston now knew that Savannah had two older brothers and one older sister, two nieces and two nephews, a 10-year-old Cocker Spaniel named Lola, and that she was extremely close with both of her parents. Her father was a civil engineer and her mother was an elementary teacher for children with special needs. He learned that she spoke fluent French, could understand Spanish but couldn’t speak it, and that she had a fairly strong grasp on Japanese from all of her travels there for competitions and summer performances. Of her favourite places she has visited, Japan and Amsterdam are at the top of her list. He also learned that she had never been to Arizona so he took it upon himself to share his love of his home state, and specifically his hometown. He apologized for droning on and on, but he saw the genuine interest in her eyes and believed the sincere smile she offered him when he saw it reach her eyes (and when she reached over to touch his arm and effectively sent shockwaves through his entire system, but he had tried to push that to the back of his mind for now). 

In the past two hours, he learned that she freckled in the sun and now had a light dusting across her nose and cheeks. He learned that she had a few different smiles; one that seemed to be specifically reserved for Steph in which it seemed like they were always sharing a secret or an inside joke with just their eyes; one that was more of a smirk when she was being sassy or sarcastic and calling people out on their shit (Mitch seemed to be the main recipient of that one so far); one that was her biggest, with a wide open mouth and her eyes closed as she threw her head back and laughed when something was really funny; and one that caused her whole face to light up but still look so serene and sincere, with her smile reaching her eyes and creating little crinkles around them (this was by far his favourite and it did things to his insides that he had yet to find a name for). 

He learned that she had a dry sense of humour that perfectly matched his own, that she was obviously competitive but more specifically with herself and not others, that she was passionate about human rights for all people, that she dreamt of going on mission trips once she was finished competing, and that she wanted to give back to the figure skating world by fighting for body positivity in a sport in which it was severely lacking and become a mentor for the up and coming generations of skaters. 

He learned that she was brilliant and beautiful and brave - and that he was utterly entranced by everything about her. God, was he ever in deep.

“All right ladies and gents,” Mo stood up from his place on the beach blanket and stretched his arms out high above his head, a little bit of his stomach peeking out from his black hoodie, “I think it’s time we reel it in for the night.”

As everyone rose from their comfortable positions and began collecting all of their things, Auston had a moment of panic when he realized that he was heading back to Arizona for a week and he wouldn’t get to see Savannah. Should he ask for her number? She seemed hesitant at first, but definitely warmed up to him by the end. But maybe he was misreading everything and she was just being friendly? Steph did say she wanted her to meet everyone and join the group, so maybe that’s all it had been for her, just making another friend in Toronto. She had talked to everyone in the group tonight, but none of them as much as him. Was that just because he desperately wanted her attention or because he was sitting right next to her? Fuck, he thought, I must be in deep if I’m this self-conscious over a girl. Before he could say anything else, Mitch turned to him and Savannah. 

���Sav, how did you get here today?” 

“I caught a ride with Brian. I completely forgot I didn’t have my car here!”

“Well you can ride with Steph and I. We have to drop Matts off too.”

“Perfect. Thanks Mitchy!” she leaned over and gave his side a light squeeze, picking up the chair and cooler that were still on the ground. 

“So you think you want to join us fools, Sav?” Morgan ruffled her hair a bit as they all walked towards the parking lots. “We’re probably the easiest of the entire group, so you might want to prepare yourself.”

“YOU’RE the easiest? God, do you play with a bunch of animals or something?” Sav joked, that sassy smirk stretching across her soft features. 

“Hey! We were told to be on our best behaviour tonight so we didn’t scare you away and cause Steph to dismember us and I think we did okay,” William laughed and Steph unlatched herself from Mitch’s side and shoved him, causing him to stumble a couple of steps in his flip flops. “Besides, you spent most of the night talking to Matts so if your impression is that we’re awful, we’re just going to blame him.”

Heat that rose to both Auston and Savannah’s faces at being called out for their slight separation from the group, but Savannah continued on as if nothing had happened. 

“Don’t worry, I think I can handle it,” Sav laughed lightly. 

“Well it was nice meeting you, Savannah! You’ll have to make it to our home opener,” Kasperi offered, as he reached over to give her a goodbye hug. 

“If I don’t have a competition or anything work-related going on, I will definitely consider it.” 

As they said their goodbyes to Kasperi, William, and Morgan, the rest of them climbed into Mitch’s car with Steph sitting in the passenger seat, and Savannah and Auston both sitting in the window seats in the back, with the empty seat between them holding their bags. 

“Matts, when do you get back?” Mitch asked, as he turned the radio down slightly, and got onto the highway. 

Savannah tried not to look too interested in the answer. Of course he would be leaving, he has the summer off and would want to go home. She tried to push away the disappointment she felt at knowing he wouldn’t be around for a bit. No, she thought. This is for the best. Space is for the best. The last thing Savannah needed was to fall for someone right now. No relationships during this quad. That was her rule. 

“I’m only going for a week,” he began, rubbing a large hand over his tired face, “Babs and Duby want me here to go over things with Johnny.”

“Do you think they’re going to make him captain?” Steph inquired. 

“Probably. I mean, he has the most experience, he’s going to be the number one centre, so why not? I think he’s the best for the job, if they don’t end up picking Mo.” 

Savannah had heard a little bit about all of this from Steph, who heard from Mitch, that despite all of the reports stating otherwise, Auston was really excited to have Tavares join the team and didn’t care at all about being named captain. He thought they could be the next two-headed monster(which was the funniest description of two hockey players she thought she had ever heard) like Crosby and Malkin. His role was to still be a leader on and off the ice regardless of the letter he wore or didn’t wear, and she was really impressed by the lack of ego.

“Savvy, are you here for the rest of the month or are you off jet-setting somewhere?” Steph turned a bit to face the back of the car. 

Now it was Auston’s turn to pretend like he wasn’t overly interested in the answer. Where was she going? She just got here! 

“I’m not sure yet,” Sav yawned mid-sentence (and when Auston thought it was the most adorable thing, he once again thought about how deep he was in this). “I will be here for this week, but I have a lot of meetings with Skate Canada about this upcoming season and what is expected of me. They want me to be more of a face of the figure skating world now that I’ve won gold and that Tessa and Scott are likely retiring. I am going to be traveling a little bit at the end of the month and in September to guest at their Thank You, Canada tour and I also have two more Stars on Ice shows to do, one here and one in Ottawa.”

“We should totally go to one of your shows!” Steph clapped her hands excitedly, speaking way too loudly for how late at night it was. 

“Well I think Connor is going to be coming to the Toronto one when he visits home before heading back to Edmonton for the season. His mom was really excited when we gave her tickets, and I think she said she was dragging him along.”

“Davo’s coming home!” Mitch hollered from the front. “That fucker is supposed to take me for a round of golf before the season starts so I can at least kick his ass at one sport.”

Rolling her eyes, Sav continued. “Sure, whatever you say Mitchy. All right, this is me,” she started collecting her things as they pulled up to her apartment complex. 

“This is Brownie’s building,” Auston pointed out, recognizing the colouring of the building and the surrounding area. 

“Brownie?” Sav’s nose scrunched. “Ohh! Connor Brown is Brownie? I don’t know why I forgot that he would be here!”

“You know him?” Auston turned to her for the first time since they got in the car. 

“Yeah, he used to play in Erie with Connor so we hung out whenever Connor and I did. Thanks for tonight, guys. I really had a lot of fun.” Sav began to get out of the car, but as she was rolling up the sleeves on her long hoodie, she realized what she was still wearing. “Oh! Auston, thank you so much for lending me this. Even if it is absolutely a sin that I wore it.” She reached the ends of the hoodie and pulled it up over her head, her tank top rising with it and revealing the undersides of her purple bikini. Auston felt all of the blood rush to his head, and other body parts that he was trying to ignore, as his eyes scanned the tanned and toned expanse of her stomach, his mind immediately wondering what it would feel like to run his hands and mouth along her soft skin. 

Distracted, Auston didn’t notice that everyone in the car was now staring at him expectantly; Sav confused and wondering if he had heard her; Steph and Mitch amused with Steph fighting to hold back her grin and Mitch making no such effort, loving that his best friend was such a fool for someone as amazing as Savannah. Auston didn’t move or react until Sav cleared her throat, heat rising to his cheeks for what felt like the millionth time that day. God, who knew he could be such a loser with girls when he was genuinely interested in them. 

“Oh, thanks,” he coughed lightly and trying to recover with wit he added, “maybe next time you wear something of mine it will be with my name on the back.”

Savannah’s eyes squinted slightly. “I’m pretty sure my body will spontaneously burst into flames if I put on one of those jerseys, Auston. But thanks anyway!” she laughed and sent him what she thought was an innocent wink. “All right, thanks again Mitchy. Steph, I’ll call you tomorrow. Mani/pedis? My treat?”

“You have yourself a date! I’ll buy lunch. Love you!” she blew an air kiss at her person. 

“Love you too, munchkin. Bye guys.” 

After they were sure she was safely inside the building, Mitch pulled out of the parking lot and continued towards Auston’s complex. Everyone was silent for the majority of the ride, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, feeling like he was going to bust a gut if he didn’t say something, Mitch spoke up. 

“Maybe next time you wear something of mine it will have my name on the back,” he mocked, trying to mimic Auston’s deeper voice, laughing even louder when Steph started laugh and Auston groaned and let his head fall back onto the seat behind him. And now he knew that not only was he a complete goner, but everyone else seemed to know as well. This was going to make for interesting locker room chats. Great. Just great. 

“Shut up and drive, Mitchy. Just shut up and drive.”

#auston matthews #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fan fiction #nhl imagine #nhl fan fiction #hockey imagines #hockey fan fiction #toronto maple leafs

[avengers-nextgen]

All Things Grow I

“The news is so depressing,” Nathaniel grumbled clicking off the television, “everything’s all about the bad stuff happening in the world. Uhm hello? I experience it first hand people!”

“It’s what’s engaging unfortunately,” Wanda sighed having been watching it too, “the only way to attract an audience.”

“Yeah, well it sucks.”

“You sound like my brother,” She laughed.

“He was smart.” Nathaniel remarked. “Not to mention I can hardly turn on the tv without politics showing up every five seconds. I can see the headline, ‘local senator eats out at family restaurant. Guess what he eats.’”

“Shrimp, a cup of self righteous wine, and a bunch of carbs.” Fox glanced up from her tablet. “What? I pay attention sometimes.”

“You have a habit of being really quiet and then scaring people when you talk.” Nathaniel explained.

“My bad.” Fox wasn’t apologizing at all, instead she was storing that info away to be used later. “Welp, I have work to do so have fun being depressed.”

“She’s a wray of pitch black,” Nathaniel snorted.

“We have to go.” Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder hearing Enzo’s voice from the hallway.

“What’s he carrying on about?”

“Bianca and Enzo are trying to convince the others to go to a hockey game.” Wanda explained. “I think Scout’s going. He finds it mildly interesting, and Orion looked the sport up on YouTube. He’s going in hopes there’s a fight.”

“I’m not surprised.” Nathaniel sighed. “Are there tickets for everyone?”

“I believe so.” Wanda frowned, “Piper made sure to get extras.”

“Great. Then I guess I have something less depressing to do.” Nathaniel decided. “Enzo!”

“Yeah?” The boy scampered out of the hallway dressed for the cold rink.

“I’m coming along.”

— — —

“Churros.” Thalia didn’t even care about the size of the stadium. She’d spotted the concessions right away and so had Penny.

“Mountain Dew.” Penny grinned.

“More like Mountain Dew not drink it.” Chloe frowned. “You’ll have to pee every five minutes.”

“I have perfect control over my bladder.” Penny glowered. “Right Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“That’s a really uncomfortable question.” James mumbled. “And you just...agree?”

“Hey, I’m not about to start an argument.” Arthur whispered back.

“We are not going inside yet.” Enzo stated. “We are waiting like good people.”

“For who?” Siyanda asked, holding Thalia’s hand to keep her from running off.

“My friend.” Enzo said.

“There they are.” Bianca pointed out the blonde kid in the crowd.

“He’s small.” Sage remarked, “How can he play hockey if he’s so skinny?”

“Not he,” Enzo corrected, “they, or them.”

“What-oh shit. Sorry.” Sage winced.

“Not scoring any good big sister points today are we?” Piper teased.

“Shut up.” Sage glowered. Enzo ignored their banter and waved his friend over.

“Max, this is my family.” Enzo stated. “That’s Nathaniel. Nathaniel say hi.”

“Hi,” Nathaniel smiled kindly and waved.

“That’s Piper and that’s her best friend Gen. They’re weird. That’s Siyanda and her girlfriend Thalia. She likes food so guard it. Then there’s James. He’s really cool even if he looks scary. Then there’s Fox and she’s just...honestly I don’t know. Penny is fun you’ll like her. Arthur and Chloe are twins. Bianca you’ve met.” Enzo smiled.

Max seemed to relax a bit upon seeing a familiar face and waved at her, “Heya.”

“This is Alex she’s really nice and we all love her.” Enzo teased, “and this is my sister who is Alex’s girlfriend and she’s not as scary as she looks.”

“She’s pretty scary.” Max admitted.

“Nice to know I still have that effect.” Sage smirked.

“Oh! Almost forgot.” Enzo interrupted. “That’s Scout. He’s kind of shy but he knows nearly everything about everything. Next to him is his boyfriend Orion.”

Orion waved casually trying to seem as normal as possible. With the help of Scout and Piper he’d managed to cover his green face with paint for one of the teams. He’d made sure to wear gloves and dress warmly too.

“Well it’s nice to meet everyone. Enzo talks about you guys a lot. He says you’re all really cool.” Max smiled. “Anyways, I think the game is gonna start soon so we should get our seats.”

— — —

The group took up a section of the stands sticking close together and watching the players warm up with curiosity. Max was rattling off statistics to Scout and Enzo who both listened intently.

“If there isn’t a single fight I’m going to be mad.” Sage admitted. “I want to watch some losers knock each other out.”

“For once I agree,” Fox shrugged.

“Ew. Don’t ever say that again.” Sage frowned.

“I got churros!” Thalia grinned proudly having two in each hand.

“You’re sharing,” Siyanda reminded her plucking one from the Asgardian’s grasp.

“I know. You can have the fresh ones. But only because I love you.” Thalia stated.

“Oh she can have churros but I can’t?” Penny pouted.

“We have to limit your sugar intake.” Arthur reminded her. “Or you’ll be asleep halfway through once you come down from the rush.”

“We could always leave her in the stands.” Chloe remarked dryly. James stifled a laugh.

“Okay that’s just rude.” Penny rolled her eyes.

“Hush. They’re gonna do the preshow.” Bianca bounced excitedly in her seat. Sure enough the lights dimmed and color beams danced across the ice.

“Like a kid in a candy store,” Nathaniel snorted, setting a hand on Bianca’s shoulder to still the girl.

With the display of color and the excited announcement of players taking the ice the group was completely enthralled. Each seemed to pick a favorite player right away just based off of attitude and facade.

When the game started both Sage and Fox were pleasantly surprised by how physical it was. Players were slammed with sticks, pushed into walls, and shoved about with ease. Orion seemed to be the only one aside from Thalia who could easily follow the black speck ricocheting across the ice.

James’ brain went into tactic mode as did Bianca’s. The girl was rattling off strategies to Max who nodded in agreement. Siyanda studied the keeper’s finding their reflexes very impeccable.

Nathaniel boasted that with his aim he could have scored early on but Enzo was quick to shush him as tension built into a push on the attack. The buzzer sounded and the crowd yelled excitedly.

“Can you imagine hockey with rockets on the skates?” Piper grinned evilly.

“People would die, Piper.” Gen reminded her.

“But it would be so fun to watch!”

“I’d participate in the sport.” Orion smiled. “Seems exhilarating.”

“Not the smartest idea,” Alex warned knowing very well that Piper could and would test rocket skates on Orion.

— — —

At one point a fight did erupt which ended up being almost everyone’s highlight of the game. The gloves flew off and the men went at it swinging wildly. Even the refs took a bit of a beating.

“Max, do you ever fight anyone?” Thalia asked.

“No. I do school and club hockey which both give strong penalties for it you fight,” They said.

“Bummer.” Sage sighed. “I’d have enjoyed this as a kid.”

“The women don’t really fight,” Scout stated, “they’re much more socially sophisticated about the game.”

“Thank you captain encyclopedia,” Piper teased.

“Only trying to clear the air,” Scout shrugged.

All in all the game ended in a draw which was fine since none of them had a particular team to root for. Thankfully for Thalia the end of the game meant she could finally take that bathroom break she’d been waiting ages for.

“Gotta say I’m glad I came to watch this,” Nathaniel groaned, stretching his arms happily overhead.

“How’d you get into the sport?” James asked.

“Since I was little. My uncle got me involved, he’s from Canada, and then my parents indulged it. They don’t talk to him anymore though,” Max shrugged, “but I’ve liked it for as long as I can remember.”

“Nice.” Orion grinned. “Mind giving me a big stick I can hit people with?”

“Orion, you can get a big stick outside.” Scout rolled his eyes.

“It’s not the same.” Orion argued.

“Big stick energy.” Nathaniel mumbled and Piper and Penny were goners. The two dissolved into laughter which lead to tears.

“I don’t understand,” Thalia frowned having returned from the bathroom.

“My aunt showed me as did uncle Peter. It’s a meme: Big dick energy, except they made a parody of it.” Siyanda explained.

“Big dick energy? Seriously?” Scout huffed. “There’s nothing amusing about that at all. It makes no sense.”

“Just...drop it.” Arthur sympathized. “Let’s get going shall we?”

“Sure!” Enzo nodded. “See you at School Max. You have a ride don’t you?”

“Yeah I’m good.” Max nodded. Enzo gave his friend a quick fist bump before scrambling up the steps of the stadium to follow his family.

“I say that was a success.” Nathaniel decided.

“More or less.” Chloe corrected. “Let’s not forget that joke of yours.”

“It was legendary. Don’t be so bitter about it.” Piper laughed. “Man, Nathaniel I adore you.”

“You too kiddo.” Nathaniel smiled.

“We have Bianca right?” Alex asked glancing about. “And....we lost her.”

“Oh yeah she’s in the gift shop!” Enzo smacked his forehead. “I’ll be back.”

“From now on we have to do a headcount.” Nathaniel decided. “We cant afford to lose anyone. Not my little ducks.”

“Quack.” Sage glowered.

“That’s the spirit.” Nathaniel smiled.

“Anyone want quackers?” Thalia asked. It was a stupid joke but the look of pride on her face was enough to draw laughs from everyone else. Siyanda kissed the blonde’s cheek good naturedly. “I told you I was funny Si!”

#avengers #avengers next gen #marvel #black widow #captain america #mcu #natasha romanoff #pepper potts #romanogers #scarlet witch

[thingsmk1120sayz]

This day in hockey history, June 5th 1945, Andre Lacroix was born in Lauzon, Quebec. Lacroix is the WHA's all time leading scorer with 251 goals and 547 assists for 798 points in 551 games.

Lacroix was the last of 14 children in his family, and to this day his parents still live in the house in Lauzon, Quebec where he was born. He started playing hockey at the age of 12—late by Canadian standards—and he learned quickly to make every shot on goal count. "My father was an oil deliveryman and never made more than $75 or $80 a week," says Lacroix. "A hockey stick in those days cost one dollar, so I was always afraid to take a slap shot for fear that I might break my stick. You don't break many sticks with a wrist shot. My father used to use tape and nails to hold the sticks together so they would last for a long time."

When he was 18 Lacroix went to Peterborough, Ontario to play junior hockey, leading the Ontario Hockey Association in scoring the first year (1963) and narrowly missing the title the second. He scored 119 points the first year (45 goals and 74 assists) and 120 points the second year (40 goals and 80 assists). His career totals in 97 games were 85 goals and 154 assists for 239 points - the best of any Pete in franchise history.

In both years, he was named the league’s most outstanding player winning the Red Tilson Trophy as MVP, once beating out Bobby Orr of the Oshawa Generals.. He won the scoring race in ’65-66 playing on a line with Mickey Redmond and Danny Grant, both future NHL 50 goal scorers.

But Lacroix spoke not a word of English when he arrived in Peterborough, and he found few people in Ontario who spoke French.

"I used to hang around a bowling alley in Peterborough because the people there knew I didn't speak the language and they were very nice to me," he says. "I decided I wasn't going to sit in my room for two years and stare at the walls, so at night when I came home from practice I would write down 25 or 30 verbs in English and study them. I figured if I could learn the verbs, the rest would follow." Lacroix also lugged around a pocket dictionary, and by his second year in Peterborough he spoke passable English. His English now is impeccable, except for his use of Canada's rhetorical "eh?"

It's incredible that Lacroix went undrafted after such an outstanding junior career. So he turned pro in 1966 with the minor league Quebec Aces where he played for two seasons.

ndre Lacroix only spent one and a half seasons in Quebec, but he was so popular that he was sometimes called "the King of Quebec City." The home crowds at Le Colisée de Québec adored Lacroix's puckhandling and passing wizardry.

When the newly created Philadelphia Flyers purchased the Aces as its farm team on May 8, 1967, the club also acquired the player's NHL rights. Although Lacroix did not crack coach Keith Allen's roster at the start of the 1967-68 season, the Flyers took notice of Lacroix's play with the Aces. It would've been hard not to, as Lacroix had racked up 87 points (41 goals, 46 assists) in just 54 games. He was brought up to the NHL by the Philadelphia Flyers, a first year expansion team.

Lacroix scored on his NHL debut for the Flyers on Feb. 21, 1968, pouncing on a turnover against the Penguins and going to his backhand, one of 79 NHL goals he scored. In 18 games with Philadelphia, Lacroix had six goals and eight assists and helped the Flyers capture first place in the six-club expansion division. He followed that with 24-, 22- and 20-goal seasons for the Flyers, who were not known as the Broad St. Bullies in those days, but his playing style—finesse, not muscle—never endeared him to Philadelphia coaches.

"I know what magic Lacroix can flash with the puck," said Vic Stasiuk, who coached Lacroix in Philadelphia for one season. "The thing is, his magic doesn't work against certain clubs, particularly those that employ a tight checking game. When they do this, all too often Andrè can't play his normal game." Also, Stasiuk had a younger center on his roster named Bobby Clarke, and by the end of the 1970-71 season Lacroix was seeing only spot duty.

Two significant things happened to Lacroix while he was still playing for the Flyers. First, part of the roof of the Philadelphia Spectrum blew off in a windstorm in 1968. Then Flyers President Bill Putnam told Lacroix, "As long as I'm in this chair, you'll be with the Flyers." Brimming with confidence and feeling secure, Lacroix bought a house that year in Delaware County, Pa. and planned to settle down with his new bride Suzanne. But in a matter of months Putnam departed the Flyers' organization, somebody else sat in his chair, and Lacroix was traded to the Chicago Black Hawks at the beginning of the 1971-72 season.

"That was the start of our real-estate ventures," says Suzanne. "We decided to keep the Philadelphia house, which was a good move psychologically. My son calls it his 'blue house' because it has blue carpeting."

Lacroix spent a miserable season in Chicago, scoring only 11 points and writhing most of the season at the end of the bench. He also had to suffer the outrageous barbs of snippy Chicago Coach Billy Reay, who called the 5'8", 175-pound Lacroix "the first small French-Canadian center I've ever seen who can't skate." Quite understandably, when the WHA was born in 1972, Lacroix leaped at the opportunity to join it.

The Quebec Nordiques originally owned the WHA rights to Lacroix but traded them to the Miami Screaming Eagles, Unfortunately, the Miami franchise succumbed before it ever left the ground. Lacroix was subsequently peddled to the Philadelphia Blazers—his third team in a matter of days—and his travels were really just beginning.

Philadelphia owner Bernard Brown gave Lacroix a five-year contract at double the $30,000 he was making in Chicago and then obligingly threw in a fistful of incentive clauses with bonuses for scoring. Lacroix has always negotiated his own contracts and he has shown a remarkable sense of his market value and a shrewdness for fine-print language. By finessing the scoring bonuses from Brown, Lacroix earned himself an extra $20,000 after leading WHA scorers with 50 goals and 74 assists that first season.

"During the past six years I've signed three five-year contracts and one six-year contract," says Lacroix, "and I've never been traded in that time. I've also made it a rule that I don't sign a new contract until the old one has been settled. I've never been shortchanged a single dollar in the WHA." Moreover, as franchises collapsed all about him, Lacroix never failed to come out of the mess with a new contract for more money. Of course, it is difficult to say how many of Lacroix' teams faltered partly because they could not meet his salary.

In any case, the paycheck that Lacroix now receives from the Whalers is covered by funds from the Whalers, the league, Ray Kroc, Ronald McDonald, you name it. "To tell the truth," says Lacroix, "I don't know who pays what or where the money comes from. But every two weeks the money comes, and I don't ask questions."

Nobody was asking many questions during that first boisterous year of the WHA and, naturally, mistakes were made—and millions of dollars were lost. Says Lacroix, "I probably could have owned a franchise those first couple of years. A lot of the owners thought the way to increase attendance was to go out and hire a bunch of goons, which showed how little they really knew about hockey. The wise owners signed the Bobby Hulls and Gordie Howes, and that brought people in for a while. Now the owners are finally learning that they have to bring along the young players from the juniors."

In his own hilarious way Bernard Brown, the Philadelphia trucking magnate who owned the Blazers, was an exemplary WHA first-year owner. "The first time Brown met with our general manager," says Lacroix, "he said he wanted all of the players to report for work at nine in the morning and stay until five each night. He expected us to practice for a while, work around the building for a bit, then practice some more. All he knew was that his truck drivers worked from nine to five, and he couldn't understand why he was paying us all that money to work for two or three hours a day."

When Brown, who also had Derek Sanderson under contract for $2.7 million, lost interest in that sort of goldbricking after the 1972-73 season, he sold his team to buyers in Vancouver. Lacroix, however, became a free agent because of a clause in all his contracts that permits him to refuse to play for a Canadian team. The agreement, he says, is strictly for business convenience. At any rate, instead of going to Vancouver, Lacroix was on his way to the New York Raiders, who became the New York Golden Blades while Lacroix was en route.

The gold paint was barely dry on the blades of the Blades' skates when it became apparent there was going to be trouble. Playing in Madison Square Garden was one of the league's big goals, but when it finally happened it was a colossal bummer. "You could hear people talking all the way across the arena," recalls Suzanne Lacroix. "The Garden was great, but 4,000 people in a building that seats 17,500 was depressing."

Meanwhile, Lacroix had signed a new five-year contract with the Golden Blades, purchased a new home in West Orange, N.J. and begun filling it with furniture. By October the team was in bankruptcy court, and Lacroix had his new house up for sale.

The league abruptly moved the Golden Blades to the Philadelphia suburb of Cherry Hill, N.J., called them the New Jersey Knights and asked the players if they would use their own sticks and whatever equipment they could scrounge up until the cash-flow problems eased up. None of the Blades' uniforms, pads or sticks could be moved down from New York without running the risk of having the Knights' gate receipts, such as they were, attached by creditors. "And we were the first big league team New Jersey had ever had," says Suzanne. "At least we called ourselves big league."

"There was no dressing room in the Cherry Hill arena big enough for the visiting teams to use," recalls Lacroix, "so they had to dress at their hotels when they played us. To see Bobby Hull and Gordie Howe climbing off a bus, in the snow, with all their equipment on, made you feel 25 years behind the times."

Which, as it turned out, was right about where the New Jersey Knights were. They finished 32 games out of first place that 1973-74 season, and by the opening of the following season the team had been moved again, this time to San Diego. By the end of the Mariners'—and Lacroix'—second season, in 1976, owner Joe Schwartz was unable to meet the team payroll. For the final month of the schedule and throughout the Avco Cup playoffs the San Diego players competed without pay. "During the off-season, the league had to make up one schedule with San Diego in, one with San Diego out," says Lacroix. "No one knew if there would be a San Diego for the 1976-77 season."

Then Kroc, the McDonald's hamburger tycoon who also owns the San Diego Padres, decided that, after all, a puck looked pretty much like a Quarter-Pounder. He bought the Mariners and signed Lacroix to a new, guaranteed contract for six years and more than $1 million. Lacroix settled comfortably into the Southern California way of life, cruising around in a dune buggy and a van, and his children, Andrè Jr. and Chantal, adopted a cocker spaniel which they named Marina, after the team.

"The first two years we were in San Diego," says Lacroix, "we rented a place because we didn't know how long the team would last. But when Kroc came along, we bought a house with a Jacuzzi and a pool and started looking for schools for the kids. Eight months after I signed the papers on the house, we had to put it up for sale."

When Kroc scuttled the Mariners after the 1976-77 season, Lacroix once again went franchise shopping. "I chose Houston because the Aeros had been around for six years, and I thought that with their new building [the Summit] they would be included in any merger with the NHL. We decided to have a house built for us in Houston. So, of course, at Christmas the team almost went under. When I heard that the team might fold, I didn't even blink. My attitude was, 'So what?' I had tried to choose teams that had a good chance to stay in the league, and that obviously didn't work. So I decided that whatever was going to happen, well, let it happen."

To everyone's surprise, Kenneth Schnitzer, who owned the Summit, came to the rescue. He bought the Aeros and managed to keep them afloat for the remainder of the 1977-78 season. The family's new home was completed last March. By July, though, the Aeros had folded, and the Lacroix house, barely occupied, was up for sale.

Schnitzer eventually sold the Houston players to Winnipeg, meaning that Lacroix was once more a free agent. After consulting with his lawyer, he signed with the Whalers. "They have the most stable organization in the league, eh?" says Lacroix wryly.

#hockey #vintage hockey #old time hockey #hockey history #vintage #history #retro hockey

[wetwellie]

AU where instead of going to Samwell, Jack starts a widely successful Publicly Broadcast show for children.

Jack learns that he is great with kids after coaching them for a little over two years. Moreover, kids are good with Jack. There is no pressure to be anything other than who he is.

It all starts with a local news program doing a fluff piece on Jack Zimmermann’s coaching ability. But then it turned into something completely different when Jack skated onto camera and started to introduce every single one of his kids and what was special about them. He was...really enchanting actually. He didn’t ever really talk down to them. Jack just treated them as a tiny friend.  They ARE his tiny friends, but that’s not the point.  The footage they got of “snack time” was really the best. Imagine a good 16 kids piled around this massive man teaching them the best way to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

 It should have been obvious that a local channel would contact him. It still surprises Jack. They want him to host a show? Why? Everyone always teased him about how impersonable he was during interviews. Is it because he’s Jack Zimmermann’s son? Or Alicia’s?  Jack asks all of these questions to his mother and she just laughs. “You made a PB&J interesting to 16 kids just by being you” Jack figures it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot. 

It becomes an overnight success with children all across Quebec. Heck, it’s even broadcast in some parts of the Northeast US, and bordering provinces in Canada. He gets quite the following in New Brunswick, but it’s still hard to capture the attention of children who don’t speak French and can’t read subtitles.  Jack, at this point, is 1010% into this show, so he offers to do a second recording in English for those kids. That is when his popularity skyrockets from regional stardom to...daytime TV personality stardom. Anyone with a kid under the age of 8 knows his face and his show and adore him. In this universe, there is no Mr. Rogers. So he’s basically Mr. Rogers but without the sweaters. Or with the sweaters.   On the show they do various things. They reenact history with puppets, and he shows them how things are made. There’s still a lot of snow and ice rink trips. There’s a segment that’s literally just a zamboni cleaning up the ice while calming music plays in the background.  He also addresses a lot of emotions and feelings that other shows don’t. He talks about how sometimes he gets really upset when he feels like nothing is going right. Yes. He does sing about these feelings. And he talks about anxiety a lot. But he always makes sure to let the watcher at home know three things by the end of every episode: He likes them, he’s proud of them, and life is a wonderful thing to be lived.  After just five years, he’s won a daytime emmy. He loves his job and the children love him. Three years after that, the producers finally decide that it’s time for the “cooking episode”. They were able to avoid it for 7 years, but it had to come sometime. Kids wanna know how to cook, parents want Jack to make kids stop being so damn picky, and it’s a hassle for Jack to even think about. “You know I can’t cook, Johnson” “We know. That’s why we’re asking a Baker to come on the show. He’ll move the plot in the direction that readers want” “You mean the audience watching the show?” “Right” he said, prolonging the sound of the ‘I’ much longer than necessary.  Eric Bittle comes up to Quebec a month later. When Bitty’s hockey scholarship didn’t stretch as far as he needed in terms of rent and books and whatnot, he opened up a makeshift dessert shop outside of his dorm in his first year. It became a hit to overworked students everywhere. When he got a concussion bad enough to keep him from playing hockey, he’d earned so much from the pies that he didn’t have to worry too much about ends meet. The Hockey team still lets him live in the Haus in exchange for his sweet treats.  Johnson swears that he is perfect for Jack. Or, for Jack’s show. For baking. Yes.  “So! Jack. What do you know how to make?” Bitty asks.  “I can make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich” “From scratch?” “From a jar” “Oh dear” The episode that they film is making a pie from scratch. Eric introduces himself as Chef Bittle, something that the small kids near Samwell call him. And he asks Jack what kind of pie he likes.  “I don’t know, I’ve never really had pie” Bitty just blinks. He smiles and said “Well I’m glad that this will be your first pie.” He finishes the sentence by saying “But it might ruin any other pie that you eat in the future” But that was taken out of the episode.  Then, Bitty lugs out three things that Jack doesn’t recognize.  “What are these?” “This,” Bitty starts by pointing to a large tub of white goop “is lard.” “Can I touch it?” “Sure” Bitty offers Jack the jar, and the camera zooms in on Jack’s hand as it dips tentatively into it.  “It’s goopy”  “I’m sure all of these will be very goopy” Jack moves to the next jar. It’s called shortening. Bitty explains to the camera and to Jack that a lot of people use this to make their pie crusts because it’s easy to mix into the dough.  “What do you like to use?” Jack asks. Bitty grins and points to the last jar. He opens it and it’s just full of cubed butter. “I know what this is” he says.  “In my opinion, butter is the best way to go.” Bitty then explains his way through measuring the flour and putting it in a bowl. He lets Jack try, but Jack spills a little bit of the flour over the bowl.  “Seven years after hockey and your hand eye coordination is as flawless as ever, Jack” Bitty chirps. This also is cut from the episode.  Bitty then folds in the butter and brings out a pastry cutter. He explains what this is and lets Jack try to cut the butter into the flour. While he does this, Bitty explains how to add the water to the crust and, after that is finished, putting the dough in a giant fridge.  While it is chilling, Bitty and Jack are able to have their first real conversation. It, of course, starts with Jack and Bitty’s mutual love of hockey.  “Do you still play?” Bitty asks. “With people older than 12? Not in a long time” Jack says. “You?” “I’m not cleared to play with the NCAA, but I still play whenever there’s shinnies” says Bitty before pausing and saying “If you’re free, you should come down to Samwell sometime. I’m sure the Hockey team would love to go a couple games with you.” “I might just take you up on that” By the end of the day, Bitty had taught Jack how to make the perfect apple pie with a maple syrup egg wash.  “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Bitty asked, after filming was done.  “Not at all. I actually had fun. You seemed totally in your own element” “It’s what I do”  Jack’s face then broke out into the most devilish grin. “I can’t wait for you to do the same thing in French two days from now.” Bitty gulps audibly.  The following morning, Jack is at Bitty’s hotel room at 4:30am with a whole pile of flash cards. They spend a good hour improving Bitty’s abysmal French before Jack notices that he’s live tweeting the whole event.  “Saying only good things, right Bittle?” “I’m just tweeting that for a beloved kids TV personality, you can be kind of a hardass”

“Just because I don’t play hockey professionally doesn’t mean I can’t keep my hockey butt” Bitty doesn’t even give Jack the satisfaction of sputtering, but he is blushing quite violently when he chirped back: “Really? You can never tell that you have anything underneath those sweaters” “The studio we filmed in was always cold, hence the sweaters” Jack starts “It became a brand thing after a while” 

“Yes. Because the children would cry if they saw you in a T-shirt.” “They wouldn’t cry, but I’ve been told by my producer that it would give the show a ‘sex appeal that really shouldn’t be on publicly broadcast daytime television’ “

“I’m sorry to say but you’ll have some sort of sex appeal in your show no matter what” Jack leans into Bitty’s space and looks him straight in the eyes “Now Bittle, why do you think that is?”  Bitty, this time, does sputter. Just a little. They continue with the flashcards after that. 

The following day, Bitty is halfway through explaining the different types of apples he can use for the pie when he just sort of shuts down. He feels like no one’s going to understand him, and there’s no way that this audience is going to like him as much as the one two days before would. 

So he just pauses and says “J-je ne savais pas du tout quoi dire” with a southern drawl and not even sure if that’s the right thing to say at this time. He googled the meaning just before filming started. Just in case.  Jack puts a hand on his shoulder and says something like “it’s okay” in French. He then looks at the camera and explains that Bitty is from a place where they don’t speak French normally, and that sometimes speaking a second language is hard.  “But you get to make lots of new friends if you speak more than one language. Chef Bittle wants to make lots of friends here, right?” Bitty nods.  “That’s wonderful to hear. You’ve already made a friend in me. Do you know what friends do?” Bitty, not quite understanding what’s going on, says “what do friends do?” back to Jack.  Jack squeezes Bitty’s shoulder gently and looks directly at him. “We have each other’s backs” he says in English. He then turns back to the camera and continues in French.  “Friends help each other”  When Jack takes his hand off Bitty’s shoulder to continue peeling the apples, Bitty feels a strange longing for Jack to be back in his space. He shrugged it off as something that surely everyone must feel when they are in the presence of Jack Zimmermann.  They wrap up the episode and Bitty thanked Jack and everyone profusely for this wonderful opportunity. He was ready to leave when Jack pulls him aside for a moment.  “You were right” Jack says “About what?” “Your pie. I’ll never be able to eat anyone else’s again” “Well if you want any pie, you know where to find me.”  “I’ll have to come down some time”  “Definitely!”  Bitty then says how he’s got to get going, there’s a plane to catch at 3am and and clothes and souvenirs still needing to get packed. And that was that. He was boarding the plane at an ungodly hour when he got a text from a number he didn’t know.

Hey. It’s Jack. My producer gave me your number and told me to tell you to eat more protein. Don’t ask. You already miss me so much that you’re texting me at this hour? haha

Bitty doesn’t get a response until he decides to turn airplane mode off sometime around noon the following day. 

You’re an easy person to miss.

Well. Damn. He’s going to have to talk about this on his vlog. 

Bitty wasn’t even home when Jack found himself standing in front of a home that should very well have been condemned years ago. The person that comes to answer the door is a tall, blonde man with glasses. This man’s eyes widened at the sight of him and then slammed the door in his face. He could hear him scream someone’s name.  “Ransom!!!! I need you to open the door and make sure I’m not seeing things.” “Seriously man?” another voice responds.  “Just do it!” 

He hears a groan and then a pause while the other person, Ransom, gets to the door. The man opens it and freezes up.  “Uh, hi.” Jack says.  “We have a drinking game for your show” Ransom blurts out in response. And then he covers his mouth and turns to look at the man next to him.  “Holy fuck so that is Jack Zimmermann?” “You can’t say fuck in front of him!” “He played hockey of course he’s heard the word fuck” Jack coughs loudly “Uh. Is Eric here?” They pause for a moment and look at each other. “Oh you mean Bitty?” “Yes” “No. He’s got class until 4:45 today.” “Oh” Jack says with a bit of disappointment. It was only noon. “I can come back later” “Don’t you dare! You can wait here with us.” “Really?” “Totally.” Jack is then welcomed into the Haus and ushered to an awful green couch with an odd odor and even stranger stains. Nevertheless he sits down and the two of his “hosts” introduce them formally. They are D-men on Samwell’s hockey team, Ransom and Holster. 

“We’re also the captains this year” That’s all they need to say for Jack’s hockey-centric mind to take control of this conversation. He asks them about how their season is going, what’s the hardest and most rewarding part of captaining. As well as the way the NHL season.  “I assume that you’re a Habs fan?” Ransom asks “Because of my dad?” “Yeah, and the fact that you were practically radiating when P.K decided to be on the show with you” “I feel like anyone would be that way with him, though” Holster interjects “He’s amazing” “What a fucking beaut” Ransom agrees Even Jack hums in agreement.  The conversations stays on Hockey until around 2pm, when Dex comes home from his class and walks into the living room. He lets out a little yelp of surprise when he sees Jack sitting down with Ransom and Holster.  “Can I call my family on skype? My siblings grew up with you” Dex says “I always love meeting fans” 20 minutes later, Dex comes down with his laptop in his hands and on the screen is about five kids between the ages of 7 and 15.  “Oh my gosh! Is that him?” The oldest looking one says “Mister Jack!!!” “You’re not wearing a sweater!”

Jack laughs when he hears that, and proceeds to have a lovely conversation with all of Dex’s family for a solid 10 minutes. When it’s time for them to go, the littlest one asks for Jack to sing the song he always sings at the end of each episode. Jack willingly does and the little ones all sing together. Even the 15 year old, who believes she’s to old for Jack, is humming along.  Off to the side, Holster is trying to hold in a scream. “Rans oh my goodness he’s actually singing” “I know man, it’s crazy. Like he’s supposed to be tiny and on our TV screen. Not in our living room on our gross ass couch singing out feelings.” “It’s fucking swasome” “chyeah” When the call ends, Ransom and Holster are texting literally everyone on the team to come over here right now!!!!!!  The first person to walk through the door after that text is Tango. He recognizes him immediately, and he smiles. Tango says he loves watching the show. Even if it is for little kids, it is pretty calming. 

“Ransom made a fun drinking game with it too, which is nice” he adds The questions kept coming after that. Why does he wear sweaters? Does he like French or English episodes better?  “Why are you even here, though?”  By this time, the Haus is full with the Frogs, Lardo, Whiskey and Tango, and Ransom and Holster. They all look at each other.  “He said he wanted to talk to Bitty”  “Bitty? Why?”  Jack was about to answer when they hear the front door open and Bitty shout “Holster, this mass text you sent out better be serious or I will have words.” “It is serious! One of our neighbors came to stop by”  “If one of those LAX-holes were hiding out in the attic again I’ll--” Bitty shouts while making his way into the living room, only to be shut up by the sight of a tall, handsome face looking like a deer caught in the headlights.  “Jack!” Bitty says in a voice that’s about three octaves too high and two decibels too loud.  “Uh, hi Bittle”

“What are you doing here?” “You said I could come down when I wasn’t busy to play hockey” “Mister Jack plays hockey??” Tango asks. He’s quietly shushed by the Frogs.  All Bitty says is “Oh”. He wants to say more, like chirp him about how he could have texted beforehand. Or...something. Nothing comes out of his mouth.  The silence is painful. Jack doesn’t once take his eyes off of Bittle. “So!” Ransom finally says, breaking the silence, “We have everyone here. Why don’t we go have a shinny?”  Bitty thinks he says “That’s a great idea! It will be so much fun”, but he’s not sure. Maybe he just nods and makes a garbled noise. He’s not really sure. But the response is what’s needed. In that moment, the silence ends and everyone is whooping and hollering and grabbing their gear. He’s pretty sure he hears Holster ask Jack to smell his bag. It’s all a lot to take in. The image of Jack Zimmermann inside the Haus should be foreign, and it is foreign at first. But on the other hand, it feels like this is where he effortlessly fits in.  Bitty watches Jack sniff Holster’s bag and say “Yup. Hockey bags still smell like shit. Nothing has changed” And everyone yelled when they just heard Jack Zimmermann say ‘Shit’.  “Guys we have to get Shitty here. If only for the name” Dex says “I texted him an hour ago, he’s on his way and skipping a lecture for this.” Not many people give it much thought when Bitty says he’s headed to the kitchen to bake up a few things for the game. They told him not to be too long and left a few minutes later.  He’s finally alone and as he pours the flour into a bowl, Bittle whispers to himself “oh my god”. Jack actually came.

Did he come for him, though? Or just to play hockey? That was the thing that was on his mind. If Jack was simply here for hockey, Bitty would be fine with that. He’d have a grand old time and thank him at the end of it. Just like with filming.  However, what if Jack came for him? Bitty can’t let himself think like that. It would never work. Jack has never presented himself as anything other than straight, from what Bitty and the rest of the media has seen. And despite having Bitty’s number, Jack never texted him. That must show he’s not overly interested in Bittle, right? It’s just Bitty wishing for something. What is he wishing for, anyways?  “Oh no’ Bitty thought. He’s gone and done it. He’s gone and possibly fallen for the most unobtainable guy he will ever meet. A guy who is in nearly every household in north america. A guy who lives 300 miles away. A guy who is just too darn nice and too darn attractive for his own good.  “I think you’re over mixing the dough” a voice says behind him.  Bitty whips around to see the one person he doesn’t want to see (and also the person he wants to see more than anyone else). “Jack!” he says again in that surprised voice . “You didn’t go with the Boys?”  “I wanted to see if you needed any help.” “Well Jack, that’s very nice of you. But you don’t have to help me if you don’t want to. I’m sure that the Boys are a lot better company” “They are great company, but I just spent four hours with them.” “Four hours?” Bitty exclaims.  “Yeah,” Jack says “So can I help?” Bitty pauses for only a moment, tries and fails to crush all warm and fuzzy thoughts, and nods. “Of course you can.” He points to the pile of apples and asks him to peel and chop those up.  In five minutes, Bitty has three pie crusts ready to bake.  “It took hours to chill a pie crust on the show how did you--” Jack starts to say, and then Bitty flicks him with some flour.  “I don’t give away all of my secrets. Mr. Zimmermann” 15 minutes later, Jack and Bitty leave the Haus with three freshly baked apple pies.  “This is impossible. You are amazing, Bittle” “But you already knew that I was great at baking. Wait til you see me on the ice.” “Bittle, I look forward to it” The thoughts that were going through Jack’s head when he saw Bittle do a jump like that in hockey skates are unable to be transcribed as anything other than internal screaming and maybe Ode to Joy. And then seeing Bittle moving faster than any one he’s ever seen.  “You don’t let him play anymore?” Jack shouts incredulously at Ransom and Holster.  “Not our decision. It was the coach’s” Ransom explains “What a damn shame”  At that time, Bitty does a flawless spin-o-rama into and scores on Chowder, who first swears in frustration, and then cheers for Bitty.  All Jack says is “Nice” “Not so bad yourself” Bitty responds. “Yeah that hockey ass isn’t just for show!” Ransom shouts, and then Bitty flushes and trips over himself.  All in all, it was one of the best games of hockey that Jack had played in a long time. It was one of the only games of hockey Jack had played in a long time, but that wasn’t the point. The point is that there was no pressure to be anyone other than him. This is how hockey should feel all the time.

Jack wishes he could say that he realized that he really liked Bitty a lot right then and there. But that’s not what happens. Oblivious as ever, and surrounded with a bunch of new people around his age that like him for being himself, Jack does not have any revelations. Well--romantic revelations, that is. When he says “Hey Shitty” to a moustached man with a tweed jacket and a flow that’s just barely starting to grow out, and the man literally jumps leaps into his arms like he’s the starlet of “Dirty Dancing”, Jack knows he’s met a friend for life. He doesn’t know how or why they click, but they do.  Jack leaves late that night with a new group chat, a baskets worth of pie, and a handful of new friends, promising to return as soon as he gets the free time. And if the ever-oblivious Jack, waiting for his flight on the airport just happens to text a certain Eric Bittle, he sees nothing super romantic in his message.  Thanks for letting me come over and steal your friends. I hope that next time we can have more quality time one on one Jack texts. Big groups tend to drain him pretty fast, he reasons.  Bitty, on the other hand, is freaking out. He’s already blogging about a friend who came, and the feelings which definitely did not follow when the text comes. After about fifteen minutes of freaking out, he sends back a neutral That sounds great, Jack! You haven’t lived until you’ve been to Annie’s.

When Bitty wakes up in the morning, he has a text that says I called my mom and asked her about Annie’s. She said it’s really good. You called your mamma at god knows when to ask her about a coffee shop? She said it’s a really good coffee shop

Their texts never really stopped after that. One casual text turned into entire hours of just texting back and forth. Even the most banal things sparked the interest of one another. Jack shared some of the pictures he takes on his days off, and Bitty shared his famous pregame playlists. 

Jack would also come to find himself visiting Samwell nearly once a month. In the cold months, they would play hockey on the pond.. Then, when all the ice melted into spring, he still came over to just hang out. Although, as the months passed on, he ended up spending nearly all of his time with Bitty. They would just go on walks, or get brunch. Or Jack would spend hours in the kitchen while Bitty chattered on about the things that he had already texted him about.  There were also the times when they were on walks that kids recognized Jack from TV. He would always stop and say hi to the kids, and introduce them to Bitty, who would melt instantly. 

In the spring, Jack stands in front of Bitty’s door and shoves a week’s worth of sweaters into Bitty’s arms because “I know you’ve lived here for 3 years but Samwell is colder than Georgia, and I know for sure these sweaters are warm” “Jack, it’s April” was all that Bitty could say.  “April is still cold at night”  Bitty laughs, and slips on one of the sweaters. “It’s a bit big, but I’ll be sure to wear them whenever I can” he then pauses and retreats back into his room. “Now you just wait a moment! I got something for you too!” Bitty comes back with his hockey sweatshirt and hands it to Jack. 

With no hesitation, Jack slips the sweatshirt over his head and pulls it on. It’s a bit tight around his shoulders, but fits more or less everywhere else. Its shade is a few tints lighter than the red that everyone else has. That washing machine really needed to be fixed.  Jack stuffed both his hands in the front pouch and absolutely beamed at Bitty in utter comfort and bliss. “I love it,” he said.  Bitty laughs and starts to put one of the sweaters he’d been holding with his arm on. “Just wear it now, why don’t you? Don’t even put it through the wash.” “I trust you to do laundry enough” “Well you are too trusting, Mr Zimmermann.” He says as he pulls his head through the hole of the sweater. 

The sleeves are a bit too long, so he slides them up to his elbows and puts his hands on his hips. “Well I think this sweater will do nicely” says Bitty. “When it’s cold” 

There’s an overpowering feeling that hangs over Jack for the rest of that night. Nothing is different when they sit next to each other in the quiet of Bitty’s room. Bitty balances his laptop projecting the playoffs, and a bowl of kettle corn on his stomach. He slumps down on the post of his bed and pats the space next to him.  Jack climbs onto the bed, and sits himself right next to Bitty. “So why aren’t we watching this downstairs with the boys again?” Bitty mumbles something about fines.  “What?” “It’s nothing. We all support different teams and it can get pretty tense. Ransom was fixin to fight someone for insulting Mashkov last night. And you know how Chowder is with the Sharks” Jack hums and continues watching the game. Bitty doesn’t talk at all.  “You must be really invested in this game” Jack notes “What?” Bitty says before processing what he heard. “Oh, no. This game isn’t that important on the grand scale of things for me.” “Oh? And what is important on the grand scale of things?”  Bitty keeps his eyes fixated on the images on the laptop. He doesn’t respond. Time stretches out to a point where Jack thinks he won’t answer, but then he does. “I don’t know. Is anything really important?” If Jack had been perfectly honest, he had been expecting a response about his preferred hockey team (previously Blackhawks, but now he’s leaning towards the Schooners or Falconers), or the business that Bitty wants to start (baking school for kids). He hadn’t expected for it to get that serious.  Tetntatively, Jack places his hand on Bitty’s forearm. “Do you want to talk?”  “I don’t know? Maybe?” “It’s up to you” Bitty sighs “I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t think things are important, per se. It’s that maybe the things I am making important shouldn’t really be? I mean, what I’m trying to say is that I’m starting to see my future in a way that scares me. There are all these variables except for one constant. Except I have no right to assume that, uh, thing will be a constant in my life in the future.”  Jack just stares at Bitty. “I didn’t really follow what you were saying, to be honest.”

“Just forget it, it’s silly” he says. 

And, for that time, Jack lets it lie. They watch the game in silence, but Jack’s hand never leaves Bitty’s arm.  In too short a time, Bitty is standing outside sending Jack off. He has a morning talk show appearance in NYC the following morning, so he couldn’t stay the night.  “Will you be watching tomorrow?” Jack asks “If you need me to, just try to be less stiff than your late-night appearance” Jack smiles “I’ll try. But talking to adults is a lot harder than interacting with kids on the show.” “How so?” “You don’t ever have to fake laugh with kids. Talk shows are 90% fake laughing.” Bitty snorts “Well, just try your best. If Mister Jack can have a fun talk with grown-ups, then so can your tiny audience.” “And this is why I need you to be watching tomorrow: to keep me thinking of the big picture” “What would you do without me?” “Hopefully I’ll never have to know” he says. And immediately feels the weight of the statement. “Uh, I gotta go now.”  Jack ruffles Bitty’s hair, gives him a quick “byeIwillcallyoulater” and drives off.  --- Bitty wasn’t able to get much sleep the night before, so he doesn’t notice that he goes downstairs to the kitchen in the sweater that Jack had given him. Fortunately, only Chowder was downstairs at this early. He had gotten back from his morning run, when they bump into each other. He gives Bitty a knowing look “Ohhhh. So that’s why you didn’t join us downstairs last night” Bitty turns beet red and immediately turns on his heels and towards the stairs to change.  “Chowder, I don’t like what you are insinuating,” He says.  “I’m sure you would like what I’m insinuating an awful lot” “One more word out of your mouth and you’re not getting any muffin with you’re breakfast” “But today is brunch day!” Chowder calls up the stairs. 

Damn. He’d forgotten that they were all going to watch Jack on the talk show today. Half the Haus had taken bets, and the others were planning on making a mimosa drinking game out of it. Which means he can’t even retreat to the comfort of his kitchen to cook something until at least lunch. 

Despite telling himself this, Bitty found himself serving a bunch of tiny chilled strawberry rhubarb tarts to everyone gathered around their tiny TV, creating the rules for the games.  “Shitty says that you have to down your whole glass if Jack brings up how his show isn’t just him, and that it’s a team effort” Lardo reads from her phone “Bullshit, he can’t make the rules if he’s not even here” Dex protests “I’m gonna turn on the videochat in a minute. He’ll be here” “In robot form” Lardo rolls her eyes “Whatever,” she says “I don’t think we should take big drinks if any of the hosts seem thirsty. We don’t wanna show up to brunch completely wasted”

“That’s true. But if he is asked any awkward questions about sex and/or romance, you gotta take a drink every time that he says “uh” or “um” Chowder adds.  “That seems fair. He seems to be getting better at deflecting the questions about MILFs a lot better since we’ve talked to him” says Ransom, grabbing a tart from the coffee table while Holster is swats him.

“Shhh it’s starting!”  What seemed like a world away, Jack was sitting at a rounded table with three women sitting across from him. Jack took a deep breath and counted his heartbeat until it steadied a little bit. The camera panned to the women as they introduced him and his show, and started an interview. 

“I must say you are a lot more attractive than any other children’s personality. That must be some reason for your popularity. Parent’s don’t want to change the channel either!”  Jack reminds himself that this is a time he should be lightly chuckling before he speaks, “While many do believe that is the case, I always believe that the popularity with the Neighborhood is the content we give out  as well as the people behind the camera producing it. I may be the face everyone sees, but I couldn’t make a show without everyone’s help” Back in Massachusetts, a Haus full of hockey players groan and down their mimosas.  The interview then turns into the show going into it’s 8th season, and how the kids who first were watching are growing up into teenagers.  “My daughters were 4 and 8 when they started watching your show almost 8 years ago. Now, they’re showing it to the kids that they babysit! Isn’t that weird to think about?” “Uh, yeah. It’s amazing that the show has been able to impact as many as it does. The kids who I coached before the show, the ones that made me think I should get into children’s programming, they’re all headed into colleges next year. It’s amazing how quickly time passes” “Yes. It truly is.” One of the other women says “Children seem to take your word for gospel, it seems. I remember when my son was a toddler, he would run around saying ‘Mr Jack says this’ and ‘Today Mr Jack talked about that’. But now, he’s 13, so his problems and fears have gotten to become much larger than being afraid of the dark” “That does seem to be the case with aging”, Jack says. “Which is why it’s important to give children the tools to taking care of themselves mentally down the road.”  “While we certainly agree with that, do you think you could do us a favor?” They had mentioned this favor. Jack tried to act somewhat surprised when he said “Of course, I’d be happy to help with whatever you need.” “Great! Because yesterday, we sent out a message asking everyone who wanted advice from you in this segment to tweet their questions to #askMrJack on twitter. And we were flooded with responses. Do you think you could answer a couple of these?”  “It would be my pleasure”  They all smiled as they read out the first one. It was something about having to deal with the pressures of school and expectations. Jack was able to answer it as eloquently as possible, and looked into the camera like he was talking to a person on one of his shows.  The next question was about a joke about fashion. “Now that my parents don’t dress me, I have a hard time figuring out what looks good. Any help?” This made Jack let out a real, genuine huff of laughter.  “If you ask my friends, I also have a hard time figuring out what looks good. I can let you learn from my mistakes: It’s never acceptable to wear three different colors of neon on your body at once.” He answered more questions until it got to one that stumped him. “How do you know when it’s a good time to ask someone out?” “Preferably when you realize that you like someone, you should ask them out. You should do it in person. If they say no, it’s ok to feel sad. But know that your value isn’t based off of this one person’s opinion of you romantically. And that there are several people in this world who would love to get to know you” “And how do you know if you like someone?” One of the women ask. “Well. I don’t know. I figure I would just know if I do.” “How do you know? What’s are the signs that you look for?” “I...don’t?” At the Haus, Lardo made a comment about how the thirst is going into double time. Without any prompting from the game, Bitty takes a swig of his mimosa. 

“Ok, so for the kids watching out there. How would you explain the feeling of wanting to date someone?” “Is this a tweet?” Jack asks “I’m sure several people are tweeting it right now” “Uh. Okay” Jack starts “But I should say that I’m pretty useless at this kind of stuff. So, I only speak from my own perspective” “Please do! I’d love to hear what it’s like for Mr Jack to like someone” Jack said nothing and counted to 10. He thought about the girls he’d gone on dates with in Montreal. He thought of Kent. The even thought of the guy that Jack told his mom that he was to. None of them sparked anything really. They might have. But not anymore. All he can think about is last night.  “I guess that if I like someone, I want to talk to them all the time. Or, hear what they have to say. Everything that they say is interesting.” He starts. The women nod. “Uh, and then I think about them a lot. At first it’s just if I see things I think that they’d like, but then it seems like everything reminds me of them. It can be overwhelming if you think about it too much; then you just think of how happy he makes you. And it’s ok.” Oh. 

Oh

“Ohhhhh” The three women say in unison “are you thinking of someone specific?” “Yes” he says without hesitation. “I guess I know now” Without any further ado, Jack is out of his chair personally shaking the hands of the women across from him and thanking them for having him on the show. “I’m sorry to be rude, but I really must be going. Thank you so much for having me.”  He then, rushes out of the studio and into his rental car. 

250 miles away, the Haus stares at the screen in dumbfounded silence.  “Okay boys. Down the rest of your drink, we’re officially allowed to get rat assed.” Lardo starts “Except for you Bitty. You may need to drink some water or milk or something.” “I think I just need to sit down” he says “Bitty. You are sitting down” “He needs some milk. I’ll get it for him!” Chowder says “Did that just happen?” Tango asks “It looks like it did.” Bitty replies dazedly Three hours later, Jack pulls up to the Haus and sees Bitty sitting alone on the roof, nursing what looks like a chocolate milk.  “Bitty!” he shouts “Can I come up?”  He waits to see Bitty nod before sprinting through the front door, up the stairs, and through the nearest open window to the roof.  “Long time no see!” Bitty says, with a bright, somewhat tense smile.  “Bitty. I have something to tell you?” “Yeah?” “I get what you were talking about last night now,” says Jack. “About how when I think about the future, there’s always a constant. I hadn’t realized until,3 hours ago, that there was a constant in my future plans too.” Bitty looks at him, but can’t find any words.  “And that’s you. No matter what I see myself doing, I can’t imagine any world where you aren’t a part of it. Because I really, really like you Bitty.” Jack had planned to say more things, but then he found himself being grabbed by the collar of his sweater and being kissed by Bitty.

It lasted for a good long while before they had to be broken apart by a long string of buzzes from Jack’s phone. Grumbling, he took his phone out to put it on silent, but then started laughing.  “What is it?” “A text from Johnson. He says not to worry about writing the episode on handling crushes, because apparently I’m a ‘frickin ding dong who should have figured out that I liked you by now,” he says. 

Forty-seven years after the show airs, Jack receives the best reward he could ever hope for. It’s not his Emmys, or his prizes for being a humanitarian, or even the plaque that says “Honorary Captain of the Montreal Canadiens Jack Zimmermann”. It’s Jack sitting next to his husband of 35 years, listening to him chatter about whatever he pleases: the weather, a new jam recipe, the sales of his cookbook, what a little kid said to him the other day, what his own child (who is no longer very little) said to him on the phone, and how Bitty is blessed to have not gone bald like all the men on his mom’s side of the family.  Eric Bittle is the best thing Jack could have ever asked for. Jack leans over and gives him a quick peck on the cheek.  Bitty flushes and take’s Jack’s hands in his, “Now Mr. Zimmermann, what was that for?” “I’m just happy that we actually grew old together”

#omgcp #check please #jack zimmermann #zimbits #ok i love the idea of jack with kids #and i love kids tv shows like mr rogers #this is way too long and also not long enough #i wish that i could put more love into it #but this has been in my drafts since november and it deserves to see the light of day sometime #this is a half assed fic or an over assed bullet point headcanon and its been so long #ahhhh it's 1 am and im done #im so proud of me #it's like 6000 words #au

[battleofthebits]

Zimbits Battle of the Blades AU

so. well. Y’all remember this post? About a Canadian TV show that makes hockey players learn how to do pairs routines with figure skaters? It’s Jack and Bitty now. Leggo. 

It’s a year or two after Bitty graduates from Samwell. He won the Frozen Four in his Senior Year, and Jack has a Calder trophy and Stanley Cup win under his belt. They are both publicly out, but they’ve kept their status as a couple lowkey for now. 

The execs in charge of Battle of the Blades decide they need a new gimmick to increase ratings. Enter: Queers!!! On Ice!

They want one F/F and one M/M pair of skaters, in addition to the regular straight couples. It’s easy enough to find female skaters willing to pretend to have a gal pal, and the NWHL has several out queer players, and yet...

The producers can literally find no male hockey players or figure skaters who are a) available, b) notable public figures, and c) willing to spend months within inches of another man at all times, except for Jack and Bitty. Fuck it, the producers decide, and make some calls. 

Cue the Intense Relationship Discussion.

Bitty would love to figure skate again, and Jack thinks the cross-conditioning sounds like a good idea, but both of them have reservations about the public scrutiny this will put their relationship under. 

Enter George with a life-saving idea: what if they announced their relationship via the show? They’d have to pretend to just be good friends early on, but then Jack could gradually dial up the heart eyes and Bitty could stop self-censoring, and by the end of the show they would have “started dating.”

The two of them agree to George’s proposal and filming starts.

All the hockey players are sent out on the rink in hockey skates first, and Bitty pulls off a flawless double axel the second he gets on the ice. “Dear me, I must have forgotten which skates I’m wearing!”

Jack Zimmermann, hockey god, falls flat on his face the second he puts on figure skates. He and Bitty unintentionally recreate the “Toepick!” scene from The Cutting Edge at least twice. 

Lift training is a total wash. Half of it is unintentional flirting- “Yes, Mr Zimmermann, your hand is supposed to go on my butt.” “I see you’ve been keeping up with your squats, Bittle.”- and the other half is Jack screwing up and Bitty nearly dying, as per canon.

The judges are always commenting on what great chemistry the two of them have, probably because they were linemates back in the day, right? “Well,” says Jack, “we’re a team.” 

Dear lord the interview segments are ridiculous. 

Half the time, Bitty’s explaining some bullshit heteronormative requirement of pairs skating, and the other half he’s slowly but surely unloading Jack Feels™ onto the audience.

“Rule number one, never fall for a teammate.”

Meanwhile, Jack isn’t even bothering to hide his crush on Bitty/Bittle/my partner/Eric- what he calls him depends on how adoring he is at the moment.

“Jaw-dropping. Awe-inspiring, the best thing that’s ever happened to me... wait, this was supposed to be about the Stanley Cup win, not being on Bittle’s line? Yeah, that was nice too.”

Around Week 4, the entire nation of Canada needs to know- are they partners, or are they partners? 

Every. Single. Song. fits the dramatic arc of their “new relationship.” Canadian hits? “Stop Desire,” Tegan and Sara. 80s week? “How Will I Know,” Whitney Houston. Hollywood? “I’ll Cover You,” RENT.

They get to the finale on the combined strength of Jack’s cheekbones and Bitty’s media savvy. Ransom sends them updates on his family’s latest adoring comments. 

Of fucking course their last skate is to “Halo.” What is this, amateur hour?

Of fucking course they win. What is this, Yuri On Ice?

Yes this headcanon was 37% inspired by the fucking Episode 12 pair skate but that’s a whole other kettle of fish

When Jack hears they’ve won, in the “heat of the moment,” (read: in a carefully choreographed move endorsed by George months ago) he sweeps Bitty into a show-stopper of a kiss. 

The nation of Canada gets a little weak at the knees. 

“So, yeah!” Bitty announces in his last interview segment, post-win. “Me and Jack are dating!”

This is getting super long but then they’re a public couple and they donate the money they won to You Can Play and the SMH Squad hosts viewing parties for every episode, thank you for your time.

#omgcheckplease #omgcheckplease headcanon #zimbits #jack zimmermann #eric bittle #'kaye how many hours did you spend watching BotB to make this list?' #too many #no they are not doing Stammi Vicino #for my purposes they're in the same universe as YOI and the royalties on that song are off the chain #(also it's too derivative even for a TV AU of a webcomic) #mine #my writing

[torentialtribute]

Ben O’Connor follows his dad to the Ice Hockey world championships

Twenty-five years ago, Mike O & # 39; Connor was a defensive rock on the Great Britain side who shocked the ice hockey world by reaching the top level of the world championships and recording the superstars of Canada and Russia .

Ben O & Connor will follow in his father's footsteps as he goes to the ice in Kosice, Slovakia, on Saturday for the shock of Britain to the ice hockey elite for the first time since that intoxicating days in Italy a quarter century ago

It becomes O & # 39; Connor junior, an excellent defender at Sheffield Steelers and perhaps the British best player, who has some of the biggest names in it game must be shed, just like Mike did all those years ago during the one-year trip from Britain to the absolute top.

<img id = "i-a1e76d7a84b4039d" src = "https://dailym.ai/2H5CHjZ image-a-15_1557168083449.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" Ben O & # 39; Connor will follow in the footsteps of his father Mike at the world championship "Connor will follow in the footsteps of his father Mike at the world championship "

Ben O & # 39; Connor will follow in the footsteps of his father Mike at the world championships

<img id =" i- e1fea1ee7510178a "src =" https://dailym.ai/2VhIFrP "height =" 462 "width =" 634 "alt = "Ben O & # 39; Connor will shock Britain's performance back to the ice hockey elite" class = "blkBorder img-share" / Ben-O & # 39; Connor will make Britain a shock for the ice hockey elite "

Ben O & # 39; Connor will perform as Britain make a shock back to the ice hockey elite

<img id = "i-a1e40383e516d4e8" src = "https://dailym.ai/2WPmxkZ /2019/05/06/20/13165634-0-image-a-22_1557172051176.jpg "height =" 441 "width =" 634 "alt =" Mike O & # 39; Connor was a defense f of Great Britain during the tournament in 1994 "

<img id =" i-a1e40383e516d4e8 "src =" https://dailym.ai/2VjIHiY a-22_1557172051176.jpg "height =" 441 "width =" 634 "alt =" Mike O & # 39; Connor was a defensive rock for Great Britain during the 1994 tournament "class =" blkBorder img-share

& # 39; It is a dream come true & # 39 ;, Ben said while sitting next to him, his father talking to Sportsmail. & # 39; I think most of us in the GB team have won & # 39; You want to grow up and play against the superstars of the world and to be on the same ice, the NHL players will become very special. not give the NHL the only chance to compete with the best delivered at the Olympics or World Championships.

& # 39; After winning the promotion last year, we were so excited and this year's tournament has been going on for a long time but it's just around the corner. a goal 15 seconds from time gave GB the draw they needed against hosts Hungary in their last match.

The goal was simply to maintain their place on the second layer of the world championships, but they exceeded all expectations with their second consecutive promotion.

& # 39; It's a huge deal for our sport and we want to play against the biggest and the best, & said Ben. & # 39; We are facing US, Canada and Finland in our group, so we will have our work cut off, but we will embrace it and try to show the world that GB can play hockey and we deserve to be there to be.

Realistically, it will be very difficult to stay up, but we are focusing on France and Denmark, the games where it is possible to win. If we beat Canada, I don't think we'll be ready for the next game because we'll fly so high!

<img id = "i-1ea007b893d760fb" src = "https://dailym.ai/2H6F4CT -23_1557172117662.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" Ben O & # 39; Connor & Great Britain will Ben O & # 39; Connor & Great Britain take US, Canada and Finland in the group stage "

<img id =" i-1ea007b893d760fb "src =" https://dailym.ai/2Vj9H2d image-a-23_1557172117662.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" Ben O & # 39; Connor & # 39; s Great Britain takes on US, Canada and Finland in the group stage "Ben O & # 39; Connor & # 39; s Great Britain includes the US, Canada and Finland in the group stage

<img id = "i-5d24f9d3b3df40f3" src = "https://dailym.ai/2GVqNZG" height = "423" width = "634" alt = "<img id = "i-5d24f9d3b3df40f3" src = "https://dailym.ai/2VhIHzX 124682.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" Mike O & # 39; Connor believes that Great Britain could give a surprise at the tournament "a surprise at the tournament"

Mike O & # 39; Connor believes that Britain can throw a surprise at the tournament

[1] 9459002] It was in the Italian Alps that Mike O & # 39; Connor, the Canadian, qualified as a two-fold national to represent GB, played against his countrymen in a tournament where his adopted nation was defeated in every game, but far from humiliated.

& # 39; When we played Canada, we entered our pre-game skate and stood in the hallway to get their signatures, & # 39; O & # 39; Connor senior recalled. & # 39; They must have thought & # 39; who are those guys anyway? & # 39;

I grew up striving to play in the NHL and play against players we had adored when children were incredible. I would never forget it. We were not ashamed of Canada and were very satisfied with the result despite the score (GB lost 8-2), but I think the Canadians used the first round to have a bit of fun because I saw a few in the beer tent. They didn't get serious until the next round!

& # 39; They were different times and we used a lot of dual nationals with the British, but now I look at this GB team and they are full of excellent, home grown talent. We aimed for Austria as the one we could win and we were crowned.

& # 39; We were not even at the root because we had no preparation.

& # 39; I think it will be a great experience for everyone, and you, and you will come in handy and inform them. never know, GB can make someone angry.

& # 39; Coach Pete Russell let them play a very good game and although no one suggests that these guys are going to push Canada, Finland or the US, there are a few teams out there that might surprise GB if they is not ready to play. That is what they are looking for, but it is difficult that they will be good for you. "

You know what, this is the best level of hockey the UK has ever seen, says Mike of the modern Elite League.

& # 39; Previously, when each party had three or four imports, it stood out. Now, however, there is a large group of Britons and they do not play at the top because they are British, they are on merit. I never thought we would surpass the Superleague days, but this is certainly the case. It is a good product from top to bottom.

Ben O & Connor is one of the prominent players in the current set-up. & # 39; When I was growing up and my father was playing, I wanted to follow in his footsteps, "he said. & # 39; My dad didn't push me into hockey, but I just wanted to be like my old husband. From an early age I knew that I would do what it took to get there.

Ben O & Connor recalled Sportsmail about watching his father play for Durham Wasps "

<img id =" i-28e3643f40b5b8d9 "src =" https: //i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/06/20/13165740-0-image-a-29_1557172197850.jpg "height =" 428 "width =" 634 "alt =" Ben O & # 39; Connor recalled

Ben O & # 39; Connor recalled Sportsmail about watching his father playing for Durham Wasps

& I When I went for Durham I sat down on the stairs and watched him play. When I was here in Sheffield, I was sitting in the gallery with Mama and it was fantastic.

& I went to the dressing room and went on the ice when they won the grand slam. I remember it was like yesterday. It was something different and playing for Sheffield flows deep into me because of all the memories. & # 39;

Mike, 57, records the story. & # 39; I am very proud because he has done very well and has been on credit. Ben did his own thing and traveled around the world and I was very happy when he returned to Sheffield.

& # 39; My message to him now is to enjoy every minute, because when you retire and start your life, these are the times you remember.

Ben hopes that Britain can develop further and inspire young people playing ice hockey "

Ben hopes that Britain can make progress and inspire young people playing ice hockey playing ice hockey again

Ben: & # 39; The only thing he ever really said to me when I asked for advice , is to follow his heart because it is ultimately my career and I have to make decisions and live with the consequences.

& # 39; He has always been very supportive, but it has always been up to me. very grateful that I have someone in my life who has been there and who has done that. "

The big question is, who was the better defender? Father or son? & # 39; I suppose I was closer to the NHL than the young kid purely because I was practicing there & # 39 ;, Mike said. & # 39; But Ben is clearly more offensive than I am, and yes, he is better than I, I will allow that. Times have changed. It is now a different game. & # 39;

Ben laughs: & # 39; That kills him to say that! We are proud of the fact that our system has grown and improved tenfold since 25 years ago. Hopefully we can continue and children who play the sport can see us in this tournament and see what is possible.

& # 39; If I were a child looking at GB Canada, I would think & # 39; I want to do that & # 39 ;. I was lucky that I had a father and I wanted to do that too. & # 39; Now Ben gets the chance to compete against the very best, just like Dad.

Source link

#Ben O’Connor follows his dad to the Ice Hockey world championships"

[flauntpage]

Inject Olympic Curling Directly into My Veins

After a weekend watching the PyeongChang 2018 Winter Olympics, one thing is absolutely clear: Curling is the best Olympic sport. Nothing else* comes close.

I know figure skating is like the gymnastics of the Winter Olympics and draws big ratings and the prime-time slot on NBC, but relegating curling to NBCSN or whichever NBC-owned cable network airs the show where the bald guy yells about stocks is a travesty. Especially when you consider that curling is a game of merit, free of the interference from subjective judges like you get in figure skating. If you like events where people are awarded points despite falling flat repeatedly, then figure skating and reruns of Chris Hardwick’s @midnight are for you.

Sure, curling may lack the pageantry of skipping around to slightly different versions of popular songs you haven’t heard in years, but the sport is still beautiful. Anyone can do it. Old, young, man, woman, jacked, doughy. It’s the American dream but not bullshit. I don’t entirely understand curling but it’s a simple enough game that I’m pretty sure I could dominate it internationally for decades after one or two practices. Mixed doubles, which has been the first curling event to take place in PyeongChang, flips from acute concentration and careful precision to men and women teammates yelling at each other like they are breaking up during a walk home from a bar at 3 AM. It’s joyous.

From what I can tell, this is the equipment every curler uses:

1 slippery shoe, presumably coated in grease

1 sticky shoe, presumably coated in glue

1 Swiffer duster in the primary color of your nation’s flag

6 round rocks that have a colorful handle you’d find on a toilet

All you have to do is slide the stones into a giant bull’s eye at the other end of the ice. It’s like beer pong with rocks. I love everything about it. I want to move to Canada or Minnesota and join a league. I want to star in a training montage where wily old curling legend Stones McGillicuddy trains me for the Olympics but only after I prove to him I’m serious by showing up at his curling club every day for a week despite the other curlers beating me with the Swiffer dusters.

Curling is so easy to follow. You can play along at home. “Oh man, Sven needs to clip that Canadian stone to get it out of there.” It’s fast enough to be interesting but slow enough to let you digest everything. It’s quietly intense but everyone seems to be aware they are sliding rocks into other rocks. It’s mentally and physically challenging. We need to get curling into every high school.

Another great thing about curling is while it’s extremely difficult, it looks so damn easy. I can’t imagine myself hitting a baseball or shooting a basketball over a 6'6" man, but I can imagine sliding a stone. I bet Google has to add servers to handle all the “curling clubs near me” searches during the Olympics. As someone who has dominated Canadians on a shuffleboard table, I know I would thrash anyone at a game that is just shuffleboard where you stand on the table. Bring it on, Gord!

I was surprised to find the game was invented in Scotland, not Canada. It really seems like a game invented in 1933 by a Canadian guy who didn’t have the athletic ability to play hockey but was always really good at sliding the puck from one end of the ice to the other. “I’ll show those damn hockey jerks and their dumb skates. Mom! I’m going to collect some round rocks, don’t wait up!”

The Canadian mixed doubles team that just won the gold medal this morning was my favorite, although the dude on the team seemed a little dickish. You see, one person sort of escorts the rock down the ice and when their teammate screams, the escort sweeps in front of the rock so it will travel farther. In the semifinal against Norway, I noticed the Canadian dude was ignoring orders from his teammate, who I later learned is his future wife. As someone who had watched curling for nearly two days at this point, I found this troubling.

Then I learned on the broadcast that the man, John Morris, was once known, and I shit you not, as “the bad boy of curling.”

That’s right, folks. Curling has bad boys like other sports. Rasheed Wallace in the NBA, Sean Avery in the NHL, A.J. Pierzynski in MLB, and now John Morris in curling. I laughed for a good five minutes about what constitutes a “bad boy” in curling. Is it ignoring your partners sweep/don’t sweep orders?

I went to Morris’s Wikipedia page to search for dirt. Would I find a litany of arrests for unlicensed maple syrup distribution? Curling suspensions for leaving the stones in the shape of a dick on the ice?

According to this 2009 article that refers to Morris as a “wild child,” he liked to party (oh no!), once broke a broom in anger (like Bo Jackson!), and ripped his shirt off in anger once (oh, but it’s fine when the Hulk does it), and… that’s it. Curling—so fucking adorable. I want more of it.

Curling is like any other sport in that it can be mundane and every so often you see a really cool shot where one stone ricochets off another and knocks two stones out of scoring range and leaves that initial stone covered in a perfect spot. Nobody gets concussed and there’s no video replay bogging down the action. I’m not saying Ed Hochuli overexplaining a ruling wouldn’t be welcomed at times, but it’s unnecessary.

The only thing curling is missing is Johnny Weir and Tara Lipinski. I’ve witnessed some inexplicably bad shots in my long and illustrious time as a sports fan and all that’s missing is Johnny and Tara dragging some poor Swiss guy who just cost his team a chance at gold. “The only thing worse than the weight of that stone is his dull footwear!” Or something cool they’d say.

But aside from that minor point, curling has everything good about sports. And if anyone wants a future Olympian to join their club team, let me know.

*If NHL players were at the Olympics I’d feel differently.

Inject Olympic Curling Directly into My Veins published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

Inject Olympic Curling Directly into My Veins

After a weekend watching the PyeongChang 2018 Winter Olympics, one thing is absolutely clear: Curling is the best Olympic sport. Nothing else* comes close.

I know figure skating is like the gymnastics of the Winter Olympics and draws big ratings and the prime-time slot on NBC, but relegating curling to NBCSN or whichever NBC-owned cable network airs the show where the bald guy yells about stocks is a travesty. Especially when you consider that curling is a game of merit, free of the interference from subjective judges like you get in figure skating. If you like events where people are awarded points despite falling flat repeatedly, then figure skating and reruns of Chris Hardwick’s @midnight are for you.

https://sports.vice.com/en_us/embed/article/neqzyd/adam-rippon-is-having-a-blast-at-the-olympics?utm_source=stylizedembed_sports.vice.com&utm_campaign=3k7k7n&site=sports

Sure, curling may lack the pageantry of skipping around to slightly different versions of popular songs you haven’t heard in years, but the sport is still beautiful. Anyone can do it. Old, young, man, woman, jacked, doughy. It’s the American dream but not bullshit. I don’t entirely understand curling but it’s a simple enough game that I’m pretty sure I could dominate it internationally for decades after one or two practices. Mixed doubles, which has been the first curling event to take place in PyeongChang, flips from acute concentration and careful precision to men and women teammates yelling at each other like they are breaking up during a walk home from a bar at 3 AM. It’s joyous.

From what I can tell, this is the equipment every curler uses:

1 slippery shoe, presumably coated in grease

1 sticky shoe, presumably coated in glue

1 Swiffer duster in the primary color of your nation’s flag

6 round rocks that have a colorful handle you’d find on a toilet

All you have to do is slide the stones into a giant bull’s eye at the other end of the ice. It’s like beer pong with rocks. I love everything about it. I want to move to Canada or Minnesota and join a league. I want to star in a training montage where wily old curling legend Stones McGillicuddy trains me for the Olympics but only after I prove to him I’m serious by showing up at his curling club every day for a week despite the other curlers beating me with the Swiffer dusters.

Curling is so easy to follow. You can play along at home. “Oh man, Sven needs to clip that Canadian stone to get it out of there.” It’s fast enough to be interesting but slow enough to let you digest everything. It’s quietly intense but everyone seems to be aware they are sliding rocks into other rocks. It’s mentally and physically challenging. We need to get curling into every high school.

Another great thing about curling is while it’s extremely difficult, it looks so damn easy. I can’t imagine myself hitting a baseball or shooting a basketball over a 6’6″ man, but I can imagine sliding a stone. I bet Google has to add servers to handle all the “curling clubs near me” searches during the Olympics. As someone who has dominated Canadians on a shuffleboard table, I know I would thrash anyone at a game that is just shuffleboard where you stand on the table. Bring it on, Gord!

I was surprised to find the game was invented in Scotland, not Canada. It really seems like a game invented in 1933 by a Canadian guy who didn’t have the athletic ability to play hockey but was always really good at sliding the puck from one end of the ice to the other. “I’ll show those damn hockey jerks and their dumb skates. Mom! I’m going to collect some round rocks, don’t wait up!”

The Canadian mixed doubles team that just won the gold medal this morning was my favorite, although the dude on the team seemed a little dickish. You see, one person sort of escorts the rock down the ice and when their teammate screams, the escort sweeps in front of the rock so it will travel farther. In the semifinal against Norway, I noticed the Canadian dude was ignoring orders from his teammate, who I later learned is his future wife. As someone who had watched curling for nearly two days at this point, I found this troubling.

Then I learned on the broadcast that the man, John Morris, was once known, and I shit you not, as “the bad boy of curling.”

That’s right, folks. Curling has bad boys like other sports. Rasheed Wallace in the NBA, Sean Avery in the NHL, A.J. Pierzynski in MLB, and now John Morris in curling. I laughed for a good five minutes about what constitutes a “bad boy” in curling. Is it ignoring your partners sweep/don’t sweep orders?

I went to Morris’s Wikipedia page to search for dirt. Would I find a litany of arrests for unlicensed maple syrup distribution? Curling suspensions for leaving the stones in the shape of a dick on the ice?

According to this 2009 article that refers to Morris as a “wild child,” he liked to party (oh no!), once broke a broom in anger (like Bo Jackson!), and ripped his shirt off in anger once (oh, but it’s fine when the Hulk does it), and… that’s it. Curling—so fucking adorable. I want more of it.

Curling is like any other sport in that it can be mundane and every so often you see a really cool shot where one stone ricochets off another and knocks two stones out of scoring range and leaves that initial stone covered in a perfect spot. Nobody gets concussed and there’s no video replay bogging down the action. I’m not saying Ed Hochuli overexplaining a ruling wouldn’t be welcomed at times, but it’s unnecessary.

The only thing curling is missing is Johnny Weir and Tara Lipinski. I’ve witnessed some inexplicably bad shots in my long and illustrious time as a sports fan and all that’s missing is Johnny and Tara dragging some poor Swiss guy who just cost his team a chance at gold. “The only thing worse than the weight of that stone is his dull footwear!” Or something cool they’d say.

But aside from that minor point, curling has everything good about sports. And if anyone wants a future Olympian to join their club team, let me know.

*If NHL players were at the Olympics I’d feel differently.

Inject Olympic Curling Directly into My Veins syndicated from https://australiahoverboards.wordpress.com

[princerolston11-blog]

Project Scorpio Technology Revealed

Through his fiction and also non-fiction works, Nigerian author Chinua Achebe has actually sought to restore the damage performed to the continent of Africa and its own individuals as a result of International colonization. If all activities were multiplatform, the console manufacturers would be forced to offer the console based upon that's feature collection, therefore owning innovation, however since now the true marketing factor is which video games they are actually hording away, pushing you to get a console you could not wish merely to participate in a details activity. I directly may certainly not wait for the 1st video game to release that has Pro" criteria to play, or even to only participate in online in some manner ... Consoles with as lots of issues if not over a COMPUTER ... I'll stick with the Personal Computer and the genuine conveniences they provide ... straight up to the mods and ability to replay a game countless times along with a different sense to this alltogether. Discharge it after you have actually listened to two tones: one when you in the beginning push, and also another 7 secs eventually. Coming from the biggest triple-A offerings to the smaller sized indie adventures, there was a great quantity from video games our team enjoyed this year. I found your blog in the course of then, as well as i'm happy to mention that's the main factor i really appreciated the daniel fast as well as am actually remaining to consume vegan after it finished. English, French, German, Latin, and Spanish: Online ready each foreign language that method vocabulary. Distinctive: Also participated in baseball growing up and also created that to the Nanus AAA degree. Contended on pair of baseball rural teams, losing in the final in both 2011 and 2012. Invested three times in the Alberta Junior Hockey League along with the Camrose Kodiaks (2012-2015). Marked 31 aims in 30 ready the Griffins last time in his ACAC newbie campaign. It has piece de resistance (it operated any video game we threw at that on Xperia Play), as well as has choices to restrict graphics and seem if your phone really isn't swiftly sufficient. I desire to acquire the most ideal deal achievable as well as still enjoy games after playing for occasionally. Stephanie Garber is actually an unbelievably talented writer as well as this is actually a publication that essentially any grow older will certainly adore!! May 13th 2015 Update: The Supervisor of Public Relations at Telltale Gamings, Work J Stauffer, verified through his Twitter account that: While the total Season 3 of The Strolling Dead Game will certainly not show up till 2016, we will definitely be actually viewing an unique cross-season incident of The Strolling Dead Activity-- like Period 1's 400 Times" unique incident-- in late 2015 (edit: ended up being actually announced for February 2016). Nevertheless; having conformed over a full week I am actually viewing this Disney/Dice video game joining collapse along with yet another when over-rated game specifically Fate. One of the absolute most spectacular activities around, FOTONICA at its primary mirrors one-thumb leapy activity Canabalt. Properly, unless the PS5 is visiting in the coming year, devs are going to have to create the games collaborate with exactly what the console technology specifications are going to allow similar to always. Sansa's season four wedding dress, for example, consisted of a complex design from direwolves as well as fish, to symbolise her shared Stark and also Tully ancestry, while a dominant lion at the back of the dress symbolised the method Sansa's life had actually brokened under the control of the Lannisters. Themed Moment: Online moment exams and games along with various styles, including African lifestyle, pets, birds, motion pictures, pet dogs, and travel. Video games provide a possibility to tune out the worries of day-to-day life and decompress. The researchers found that specific situations raised exposure to terrible computer game-- such as finding activity gaming consoles and computers in little ones's bed rooms, and also making it possible for much older brother or sisters to discuss video games with younger ones. The bottom pipes is actually that this is actually a must review book and I wish you will certainly pick this up. This becomes part of a collection yet can be read as a standalone without problems. I guaranteed them that NOTHING I have ever attempted coming from your weblog has failed me, and also I know it will definitely be actually an excellence!! Remarkable: Joined secondary school at David Thompson Second, where he got on the golf crew. Finished his junior hockey job with the Alberta Junior Hockey League's Grande Pasture Storm (2012-2014). Member of the B.C. U17 crew. Watched the Canada Summers months Video games for baseball. For a book that claims to focus on a magical struggle to the death, there is practically no action. But, along with King Tommen's surprise outlawing of the revered ritual from test through battle, Game of Thrones stunned us in similar technique Ser Clegane had stunned that cleric along with the easily-removed basis. His passion is still there certainly, however fear has turned this sweet guy into something that triggers Rochelle to ponder if reversing was actually the ideal thing to carry out. As she kicks back into a new activity along with brand-new rules, oh yeah as well as with a child too - Rochelle starts to develop a bond with Bric that had not existed in the 1st video game they participated in. If you have any kind of inquiries pertaining to where and the best ways to make use of visit the up coming document, you can contact us at the web-page. Additionally, when opportunity I have actually observed to my dismay that, when big crews are actually entailed, there also turn up jealousies, favouritism and national politics in the game. Recorded due to the Guinness World Records, Runescape is considered the planet's most prominent complimentary MMORPG, with over 200 thousand registered players, along with the absolute most often improved video game. The Mobile Application Trends Series is sustained through Sourcebits, a leading designer from applications and also ready all major mobile phone systems. Too many activity producers and also executives do not participate in, recognize, or maybe like games.

[flauntpage]

Inject Olympic Curling Directly into My Veins

After a weekend watching the PyeongChang 2018 Winter Olympics, one thing is absolutely clear: Curling is the best Olympic sport. Nothing else* comes close.

I know figure skating is like the gymnastics of the Winter Olympics and draws big ratings and the prime-time slot on NBC, but relegating curling to NBCSN or whichever NBC-owned cable network airs the show where the bald guy yells about stocks is a travesty. Especially when you consider that curling is a game of merit, free of the interference from subjective judges like you get in figure skating. If you like events where people are awarded points despite falling flat repeatedly, then figure skating and reruns of Chris Hardwick’s @midnight are for you.

Sure, curling may lack the pageantry of skipping around to slightly different versions of popular songs you haven’t heard in years, but the sport is still beautiful. Anyone can do it. Old, young, man, woman, jacked, doughy. It’s the American dream but not bullshit. I don’t entirely understand curling but it’s a simple enough game that I’m pretty sure I could dominate it internationally for decades after one or two practices. Mixed doubles, which has been the first curling event to take place in PyeongChang, flips from acute concentration and careful precision to men and women teammates yelling at each other like they are breaking up during a walk home from a bar at 3 AM. It’s joyous.

From what I can tell, this is the equipment every curler uses:

1 slippery shoe, presumably coated in grease

1 sticky shoe, presumably coated in glue

1 Swiffer duster in the primary color of your nation’s flag

6 round rocks that have a colorful handle you’d find on a toilet

All you have to do is slide the stones into a giant bull’s eye at the other end of the ice. It’s like beer pong with rocks. I love everything about it. I want to move to Canada or Minnesota and join a league. I want to star in a training montage where wily old curling legend Stones McGillicuddy trains me for the Olympics but only after I prove to him I’m serious by showing up at his curling club every day for a week despite the other curlers beating me with the Swiffer dusters.

Curling is so easy to follow. You can play along at home. “Oh man, Sven needs to clip that Canadian stone to get it out of there.” It’s fast enough to be interesting but slow enough to let you digest everything. It’s quietly intense but everyone seems to be aware they are sliding rocks into other rocks. It’s mentally and physically challenging. We need to get curling into every high school.

Another great thing about curling is while it’s extremely difficult, it looks so damn easy. I can’t imagine myself hitting a baseball or shooting a basketball over a 6'6" man, but I can imagine sliding a stone. I bet Google has to add servers to handle all the “curling clubs near me” searches during the Olympics. As someone who has dominated Canadians on a shuffleboard table, I know I would thrash anyone at a game that is just shuffleboard where you stand on the table. Bring it on, Gord!

I was surprised to find the game was invented in Scotland, not Canada. It really seems like a game invented in 1933 by a Canadian guy who didn’t have the athletic ability to play hockey but was always really good at sliding the puck from one end of the ice to the other. “I’ll show those damn hockey jerks and their dumb skates. Mom! I’m going to collect some round rocks, don’t wait up!”

The Canadian mixed doubles team that just won the gold medal this morning was my favorite, although the dude on the team seemed a little dickish. You see, one person sort of escorts the rock down the ice and when their teammate screams, the escort sweeps in front of the rock so it will travel farther. In the semifinal against Norway, I noticed the Canadian dude was ignoring orders from his teammate, who I later learned is his future wife. As someone who had watched curling for nearly two days at this point, I found this troubling.

Then I learned on the broadcast that the man, John Morris, was once known, and I shit you not, as “the bad boy of curling.”

That’s right, folks. Curling has bad boys like other sports. Rasheed Wallace in the NBA, Sean Avery in the NHL, A.J. Pierzynski in MLB, and now John Morris in curling. I laughed for a good five minutes about what constitutes a “bad boy” in curling. Is it ignoring your partners sweep/don’t sweep orders?

I went to Morris’s Wikipedia page to search for dirt. Would I find a litany of arrests for unlicensed maple syrup distribution? Curling suspensions for leaving the stones in the shape of a dick on the ice?

According to this 2009 article that refers to Morris as a “wild child,” he liked to party (oh no!), once broke a broom in anger (like Bo Jackson!), and ripped his shirt off in anger once (oh, but it’s fine when the Hulk does it), and… that’s it. Curling—so fucking adorable. I want more of it.

Curling is like any other sport in that it can be mundane and every so often you see a really cool shot where one stone ricochets off another and knocks two stones out of scoring range and leaves that initial stone covered in a perfect spot. Nobody gets concussed and there’s no video replay bogging down the action. I’m not saying Ed Hochuli overexplaining a ruling wouldn’t be welcomed at times, but it’s unnecessary.

The only thing curling is missing is Johnny Weir and Tara Lipinski. I’ve witnessed some inexplicably bad shots in my long and illustrious time as a sports fan and all that’s missing is Johnny and Tara dragging some poor Swiss guy who just cost his team a chance at gold. “The only thing worse than the weight of that stone is his dull footwear!” Or something cool they’d say.

But aside from that minor point, curling has everything good about sports. And if anyone wants a future Olympian to join their club team, let me know.

*If NHL players were at the Olympics I’d feel differently.

Inject Olympic Curling Directly into My Veins published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/