#big bad bruins

[specificallybruins]

Marchy very happy his goalie likes the drip

[youwillfindilluminating]

the bruins tumblr fandom is the best out of all the hockey fandoms and it's been proven to me time and time again

[orrsoared]

I hope that I live long enough to see the day that the Bruins outplay their low-ranked opponent.

[parental-fondler]

One of my friends said that Brad Marchand look like someone tried to draw Ryan Gosling from memory

[thosedaysthatwill]

I wrote a petty post and then deleted it. 

[ratflame]

Holyyyyyyy how we pull that off

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Baby Bear

Jack Hughes x Brad Marchand Sister

sutton.march hey! that's my brother! beating up that guy! (my other "brothers" are much more well behaved, don't worry mom)

bmarch63 thanks kid, thanks. so glad to be your brother when you treat me like this

trevorzegras when i left BC you said you'd root for my team 😠

sutton.march sorry trev, brad works for the big bears so it's kind of an obligation

jackhughes really disappointed in you marchand, you're supposed to be a devils fan

bmarch63 stop flirting with my sister

sutton.march brad, you like him??

jackhughes yeah brad, you said you liked me?

January 15th, the day of the Devils @ Bruins

"Brad, boys, consider this me demanding that you behave tonight. No bullying off the ice, remember?" I warn the boys, all older than I, as someone comes up behind me, placing a jacket over my corset top. Looking back, I can see it's Jeremy, him hiding a small smile and shrugging as I realize the bomber jacket that he gave me for secret santa and I had forgotten at the party last night.

"Sorry, your brother said to grab this from his car. Think he's playing a little extra protective with your little friends in town," he jokes, making me roll my eyes.

Brad is always like this when the Ducks or Devils come to town.

"Sutton!"

"Sounds like your little friend," Pasta jokes with a smirk, the sound of the middle Hughes boys voice earning my attention as I turn with a smile. But before I make any moves, I turn back to my brother and his closet friends. "Behave."

"Yes mom," Sway assures, soluting before taking off towards where the Devils core group was located in the VIP section of the bar, the rest of us following.

"Suttie, how's it going," Luke is the first to greet me, the younger Hughes wrapping me in a hug.

"Always a good night when you hooligans come to town," I greet, hugging the boy back before pulling away, making eye contact with my favorite Bruins opponent. "Mr.Hughes."

"Ms.Marchand," He serves right back, pulling me tight to his chest and kissing top of my head. "I've missed you baby," He whispers, knowing that my "brothers" are all staring us down from the spots they've taken around the table, mingling with the men they were just fighting on the ice.

I'm sure it wouldn't be going this well if the boys in yellow hadn't won 4-3.

"Ok, now you're just hogging her," Dawson grumbles, elbowing both Brad and Nico. "Captains o' captains, one of you has to be able to tell him to knock it off."

The captains share a look as Jack and I look away, him taking a seat in the tight booth and pulling me onto his lap.

In New Jersey, this is never a big deal.

In Boston, you could say there are people against it. At least based on the look of murder on Brad and David's faces as Jack wraps his arms around my waist to keep me in place.

"You guys played great tonight," Jack compliments his elders, Jeremy being the only of the four to actually smile fully.

"Thanks kid, you guys weren't too bad yourselves," Patrice offers, his a slightly more convincing smile than my brother and David's. "That was a great goal you had, Hischier," He adds, nodding slightly at the young captain.

"You can call him Nico, Bergy," I correct, trying to smooth as many divides as I can.

I get four nights a year to encourage these boys get along, plus two for Brad for the holidays I'm able to take Jack too.

And that only goes so well.

"Nico, that was a great goal Nico," Bergy corrects himself, winking dramatically at me.

"Thanks, I was proud of it," Is Neeks response, and although it's simple, it makes me happy to look around and see all my favorite boys smiling (ish) and getting along.

"So," Luke whispers, leaning down to my height. "When are we going to get you into a Devils jacket with Hughes on the back?"

"I like the sound of that," Jack chimes in, having heard his brothers question. "When can we get that to happen?"

"Put a ring on her finger and then she can change her alliances, till then, nuh uh," Brad chimes, Bergy elbowing him and giving him an unimpressed look.

"You can be protective, not a douche bag, Marchy," He scolds, earning an eye roll as Sway and Pasta attempt to hide laughs, Luke, Nico and Daws doing the same.

"Fine."

That wasn't expected, usually he grimes and gruffs more.

"But-" Here we go. "Bruins gear will be warn at all Devils/Bruins games. I do not want to see you in anything red those nights." There it is.

Looking to Jack, he just smiles, knowing my brother doesn't truly dislike him as he likes to put on. Brad's happy for me, but he's 13 years my elder, and has always been more than protective. With his nod of agreement, I reach my hand across the table, Brad shaking it with a nod of his own. "You've got yourself a deal, old man."

a.n. okay, so i got excited and did this piece right after asking y'all about it :) at first i was going to go for a pining sort of dynamic for the two but i wanted to be able to explore the devils x bruins dynamic and brad as an older brother more, so what happened is an established relationship. hope you enjoy, this is my first time writing for the bruins men in any form or fashion <3

[specificallybruins]

THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE?! LITERALLY A SMALL MAN BETWEEN 2 BIG GUYS

[sergeifyodorov]

hmm i was scrolling through Twitter earlier and as the designated leafs blog in my mind, what are your thoughts on fraser minten? like he’s so interesting to me because in the narrative i’ve created of him he was tavares’ fifth child but then was our balanced by knies being better, but then wjc happened and he still couldn’t crack it. now he’s on the blades (one of the best whl teams i think??) very interesting

NARRATIVELY he's definitely The Tavares Child -- okayyyy so. Sew. this New Generation of leafs (imho starting at Knies and including Easton Cowan as well as minten) kind of... each parallel a member of the Core: Knies is Auston's child (Arizona boy, big strong forward), Cowan is Mitch's child (London Knight, small winger with endless energy) and Minten is JT's child (Captain anywhere he goes, known for maturity and intelligence)... william child + morgan child ->

anyHWAY the real life scouting report under the cut (not too long i don't think)

Minten's a high second-rounder, which is the type of player that's generally designated as an "upper maybe" NHLer -- by which I mean odds-on he'll get NHL games (as Mints has) but it's less likely he'll become a serious full-time player (although many a second-rounder can and does do so!) The most interesting thing about his draft position was that the Leafs, under Kyle Dubas, traded DOWN to get him -- we had a low first-rounder, then traded it to Chicago to get rid of the Mrazek contract and got the pick that would become Mints in return. Many a source says that Kyle wanted Mints anyway and would have taken him with the first-round pick.

The general consensus is that Mints tops out as a middle-six centre, a 3C on a good team or a 2C on a worse one (or a 1C on the Boston Bruins.) His ceiling is probably about 40 or 50 points, maybe more depending on how much power-play usage he gets.

However, it's also noted (and was pretty obvious to me, even watching him at the WJC -- which I'll get to in a second!) that his real value is not and will likely never be in point production. He's a natural centre, good-to-great at faceoffs (a skill that he learned in part from JT!!) and very good defensively. Because he's still a kid, plays a bit physically and tends to be involved in the play at both ends, he probably takes a few too many undisciplined stick infractions, but these things of course can be straightened out with time and wisdom. Also, he's a touch of a personality hire: he was the youngest A on the all-timer Kamloops Blazers last year and was pretty much immediately named C after the Leafs sent him home this year; he was named captain of the CANADIAN WORLD JUNIORS team with zero other experience playing for Canada on the national level. He plays the piano! He's smart, polite, doesn't cause a fuss, wise beyond his years. Takes a guy far.

Anyway, the WJC: just an absolute hackjob by the coach and one of those years that really demonstrates that Hockey Canada still thinks it can get ahead by being Canada (the ol' throw bodies at the wall shtick) and not, like, because of its actual quality of development. I think bowing out when they did was a bit unlucky, but they absolutely were NOT primed to win it all -- especially because the coach basically seemed to have no concept of... line construction? or anything of the sort? Like he just tossed players together from a hat once (1) and decided they were just going to play out the tourney like that -- no real concept of "x is the playmaker, y is the shooter, z is the forechecker" or "these three are the transition line that take d-zone draws and use their speed to create rush chances/o-zone draws" or even something so simple as "this defensively-minded, slower centre is perhaps not the best match for the winger notorious for being opportunistic and shooty." Also, not to put too fine a point on it but a player can have a bad WJC and it doesn't mean anything, or a good WJC and it also doesn't mean anything -- Jesse Puljujarvi rose his draft stock by a good chunk in 2016 by having a FANTASTIC WJC, and he's currently on an AHL tryout. It's a small sample size, mostly played with teammates they barely know and against competition about a half-step up from what they're used to. Weird statlines happen.

Back to MINTS because we're still talking about him. Yess currently he's on the Blades -- traded from the Blazers because the Blazers are garbage and they want to Do Right By The Player and put him on a competitive team (done for two reasons: one, because it can be demoralizing to be the best player on a bad team, and two, because being on a good team in juniors often means you get actually good-for-your-development linemates and usage). He was generally not expected to make the Leafs at ALL this season (I mean, 20-year-old second-rounder, right?) and cracking the roster out of camp, even though he only got three games and has a rather blank statline is SUPER impressive. I'm pretty sure this is his last year of CHL eligibility, after which he'll probably either get put on the Marlies for a year to keep cooking or he'll make the Leafs again and stick around. Either way, he's slid twice I think so we burn a year of his ELC.

and my opinion of the boy? I love him. Let's go baby leafs baby leafs forevar

[happilysmythe]

❥ 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪

trent frederic.

word count: 1.4k

no warnings

"you've begun to feel like home" — the fray

- - -

You loved seeing your boyfriend. In fact, there was nothing in the world that you loved more than watching him on your flatscreen TV, playing hockey in the “big leagues”, as you notoriously called it, much to his annoyance.

One thing you never seemed to get tired of was his undying love for the physical aspect of the game. There was nothing more satisfying to you than to watch him stick it to some glorified asshole on the ice, knowing they damn well deserved whatever came to them. 

Trent was an enforcer; you always liked that.

And because he knew it, he was nothing short of thrilled to come home to you after the Bruins’ 5-4 loss to the Kings. The team may have lost, but Trent achieved his first Gordie Howe Hat Trick, so he couldn’t find it in himself to be too upset. He was on cloud nine, and he wasn’t coming down anytime soon.

You’d been casually living with him for about a month, and it was barely official. In truth, you’d just stopped going home and he never protested. One day, you even came back to your very own half of the closet, which had somehow become empty since the last time you’d seen it.

When you heard the unmistakable click of the front door unlocking, you all but jumped up from your spot on the couch and beelined for the entryway of the apartment. As the door creaked open, you finally were able to catch a glimpse of your boyfriend’s face, and you could immediately tell that he was putting forth his best effort not to smile like the dork that he really was.

Before his bag even got the chance to touch the floor, your arms were around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. “Congratulations, T.”

His smile broke through as his arms found their way around your waist, hands meeting in the small of your back. “Thanks,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Mhm,” you smiled, pulling back and looking up at him. As your eyes examined his face, you noticed the small butterfly bandage stuck to the bridge of his nose. Naturally, you pulled your hand back and raised it to the spot, using your thumb to gently graze it. “He got you good in the nose, I see,” you giggled.

“Yeah. It’s not too bad, though,” he confirmed, looking down at you. “I’ve had worse.”

You pressed a small kiss to the bandage. “I know. Trust me, I remember.”

You stepped away from him and started for the couch, where you were comfortably sitting before he came home. Your hand patted the seat next to you, beckoning him to come and join you. “And, if I remember correctly, you lost the fight today,” you teased. “So…a cut and a penalty for nothing!”

“Well, excuse me,” he responded in a mocking tone. “You just gonna taunt me like that every time I lose?”

“Feels like I’ve been doing it a whole lot lately…”

An innocent expression took shape on your face as your eyes darted around the room, your hands folded in your lap. With a shrug, you added, “I might need to find a new boyfriend who can actually win.”

A roll of his eyes followed, along with a nudge of your shoulder by his own. “Oh, I’m sure you will. Have fun with that.”

Another soft laugh exited your lips and you turned to him, lowering your voice slightly.

“I know I tease you, but it’s all just for fun,” you told him. “I couldn’t have been more excited watching you today. Every day. I mean, god, you’re playing in the NHL, T. That’s insane.” Your head shook back and forth slowly. “It’s amazing, and I just,” you paused to take a breath.

“Fuck, I’m just so happy for you.”

He beamed down at you, a flustered smile shaping his face. “Thank you,” he replied gently.

Your head then fell atop his shoulder, his arm slipping between you and the couch cushion behind you to wrap around your waist. He pulled you in and brought his face closer as he looked down at the top of your head. You then felt his lips press a soft kiss to your scalp, and your body relaxed into his almost instantaneously.

“Sometimes I get nervous when you fight,” you spoke quietly, breaking the silence and changing the subject.

“What about?” he questioned, and you shrugged in response.

“Nothing specific, really, I just…don’t want you to get hurt, y’know?”

“Now, when have I ever really gotten hurt besides a few cuts and bruises?” he countered, and you could practically hear the grin on his face. His free hand came around to your front and reached for one of yours, then entwined your fingers together.

“I guess you’d be right,” you laughed to yourself, letting your eyes close as you felt his thumb grazing the skin of your hand lightly. “I love watching you fight. I just don’t want to see you get too hurt. Do you have any clue how bad I wanted to kill that Lomberg guy for choking you like that?”

You felt his breath hitting the top of your head when he chuckled, his chest rising and falling. “I don’t doubt it. Maybe it’s a good thing that you weren’t there then, eh?”

“Yeah. It is,” you agreed with a firm nod.

“You’re really something, you know that?”

“I know,” you joked bashfully. Your eyes met with his as you turned to look up at him, matching smiles shaping your faces. “But you love it.”

“Yeah,” he practically whispered, looking down at you with unmistakable affection in his eyes. “I do.”

He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to yours, allowing the kiss to linger for just a moment before slowly pulling back. He’d never looked so pretty—you were convinced. You loved every part of him, from his warm, open-mouthed smile to each faint freckle on his face. And you always had peace of mind knowing that he felt the same way about you; not a single day went by without him reminding you of that.

“I love you, but you gotta stop worrying so much.”

Wide eyes were your nonverbal response—your only response, at that. You knew that your ears hadn’t deceived you, and you knew exactly what it was that you heard. You only wondered if that’s really what he meant by it.

“You…huh?”

He chuckled softly at your surprise and brought your intertwined hands up. He flipped them over, then brought his lips to the soft skin on the back of your hand and looked back up at you.

“I love you.”

He spoke the phrase with conviction, not a lick of hesitation present in his tone. Neither of the two of you had verbally expressed it to each other. Yet, it should’ve seemed almost obvious that he felt that way. Hell, he’d been showing it to you without saying it since day one. And besides—you already knew that you felt the same. You had for a long time.

“I love you too, Trent.”

Breaking out into smiles began to feel almost ritual to the two of you, your hand releasing his and finding its place around his neck, allowing you to envelope him in a tight hug. The warm skin of his neck pressed against your cheek as you buried your face in his shoulder. His eyes slowly fell shut once you were comfortably settled into him.

“I meant it, though. You don’t have to worry about me.” He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your head. “I’ll be okay,” he murmured, hand trailing up to your hair and gently stroking it. You only nodded in response.

“I’m so proud of you, Trent,” you whispered into his shoulder.

There was not a thing in the world that you enjoyed more than the feeling of his large—abnormally so, as you’d tell him—calloused hands holding you, keeping you close. Quietly sitting with him, doing nothing but enjoying each other’s presence. You knew that time didn’t come to you frequently, so when you had some, any at all, you never took it for granted.

So you stayed there for the rest of the night with him, wrapped up in his arms. It wasn’t long before you felt yourself drifting off, and he followed you shortly after, making sure that you’d fallen asleep before he could even try.

A situation you undoubtedly wouldn’t have thought to be so natural with someone, yet you couldn’t have possibly imagined being in anyone else’s arms. No person in the world could make you as comfortable as he did.

Trent meant everything to you. And you knew that you meant the same to him.

[heavenlyhischier]

tolerate - jeremy and chandler

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT -> unprotected sex (please don’t do this irl), spitting, fingering, choking, tiny bit of praise kink, they’re both a little bit of a dick to each other

NOTE: this is for my AU and i'm sorry if its sloppy or if it sucks. im a little tired ahah

Chandler knows the Bruins were knocked out of the playoffs. If she hadn’t seen it on her phone, she heard it from the boys on the team. They were disappointed that their local team had been beat out, and they hadn’t shut up about it during their last meeting before summer break. She wanted to reach out to Jeremy; to text him and say how well she thought they played and how she was sorry they got knocked out. However, she decided against it and went home after work with plans of doing nothing but relaxing. 

She heard the slam of his door at around 11:00 p.m. followed by the sound of him presumably throwing his bag against the ground. She could hear the faint sound of his frustrated yelling, but it wasn’t loud enough for his words to be coherent. A part of her felt bad, she knew how frustrated her brother and players were when they lost big games like that. So Chandler found herself doing the last thing she expected herself to do. 

Despite not necessarily liking Jeremy all that much, she still wanted to make sure that he was okay. After she had knocked on the wood frame, she stood in the hall with her hands clasped behind her back as her mind ran crazy with ideas of what she was going to say. The two of them were far from friends, and she didn’t know all that much about him, but she at least thought she’d try.

“What do you want,” He snapped as he threw his door open, his face hard and angry.

Chandler’s eyes widened, though she wasn’t all that surprised at his tone. Still, that didn’t mean it didn’t piss her off. “I just came to see if you were okay to be nice, but clearly that was a mistake,” She scoffed, turning on her heels to go back to her own apartment.

“Fuck,” He groans as he carefully grabs her wrist to keep her in place, accidentally pulling her closer to him in the process,  “I’m sorry, Chandler. I’m just frustrated.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole,” She quirked her brow, her eyes narrowing on his face as she tries to ignore their proximity. 

It was Jeremy’s turn to look taken back at her harsh tone, his tone playful as his eyes drag across her face, “I thought you came over here to be nice.”

Chandler’s close enough to him that she can see the dark circles underneath his eyes, and she feels herself feel a little deeper for the hockey player in front of her. She knew how hard these guys worked for the opportunity to take it all the way. They busted their asses and isolated themselves from the outside world so their team had the best chance possible. All of that effort only to come up short would be hard on anyone, and he was no exception.

“I came to say I was sorry. About the loss,” She rolls her eyes as the skin underneath his hand burns, her gaze unrelenting from his own, “But I take it back, since you’re an ass.”

Jeremy can’t help but snort at her response, his face slowly inching towards her own as he says, “You’re annoying.”

Chandler finds her moving closer to him, so close that see the way the colors mesh in his irises and his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. She wasn’t blind, she knew Jeremy was an attractive man, but she’d done so well in not falling to his feet like she’s sure so many others had before. However now, she was finding it difficult to push her underlying desires beneath the surface with her face millimeters from his own.

“You’re irritating,” She whispers.

It wasn’t a second later that he hurriedly closed the gap between them, slamming his lips on hers. The moment she kisses him back, he’s pulling her inside of his apartment and pushing the door shut so he can push her up against it. Chandler’s mouth moves against him with a hungry, desperate urge that leaves her breathless.

Her arms are looped behind his neck as she pulls him closer into her, his hands roaming the curves of her hips until they splay across the lower part of her ass. He moves them down, gently squeezing the back of her thighs and Chandler’s quick to get the silent hint as she lets him lift her so she can wrap her legs around his waist.

As he walks her back to his room, Chandler begins kissing down his jaw until she attaches her lips to the skin where it meets his neck. He lets out a quiet groan when her teeth scrape against the flesh, his cock straining in his pants as she presses her tongue against the spot her mouth previously occupied. When he kicks his bedroom door open, he’s quick to reconnect their lips while he lays her against his mattress.

Her hands slip down to the hem of his shirt, anxiously tugging on the fabric before she begins to pull it up. Jeremy’s pulling away from her to finish the job, tossing his shirt somewhere to the side before he helps Chandler get rid of her own. He pauses above her when she’s shirtless beneath him, his eyes darkening as he drank in all that he could see.

He couldn’t help but admire how small she looked underneath him. Her 5’3 stature a great contrast to his 6’2 one, and he’d be lying if it didn’t make him even harder. He was almost afraid that he’d break her, but he knew Chandler well enough to know she could take it. Her constant loud mouth told him that.

“You gonna stare at me or are you gonna actually do something,” She taunted, her own eyes lingering on the toned muscles of his chest and abdomen. 

“Can’t go five minutes without opening your mouth, can you,” He chuckles as he hovers over Chandler, his chest pressed against her own and his lips ghosting over her neck.

“I’d be glad to show you what my mouth can really do,” Her breathing stutters as he licks a strip up her neck.

Those words send an electric shock to his nerves, his teeth sinking down into the sensitive skin as he presses his bulge against her thigh. A quiet whimper passes through Chandler’s lips as the sting from the pressure on her neck morphs into something pleasurable and dizzying. She’s grasping at his back as he repeats the same notion all across the expanse of her neck, even down to her chest. She knows that he’s marking her, but she can’t bring herself to care.

“Swayman, either you fuck me or I go back to my apartment and do it myse–”

He cuts her off by placing a large hand over her mouth, shaking his head in amusement when he watches her eyes widen in surprise. His eyes dart down to the already bruising skin, and he can’t stop the slight sense of pride from swelling in his chest. His tongue swipes across his lips as he maneuvers his hand off her mouth until her jaw is in his palm and his thumb is running over her lips.

“You wouldn’t be able to do what I’m about to do to you, baby,” He smirks, gently pulling her bottom lip down with the pad of his finger, “You think you can handle it?”

“I think I can handle a lot more than you think,” Chandler breathes out, “Maybe more than you can give.”

Jeremy’s eyes narrow on her face, his grip on her jaw tightening as he forces her mouth to drop open. Chandler bends to him, waiting with excitement swimming in her eyes as he lets a trail of spit fall onto her tongue. He loosens her grip and she doesn’t need to be told to close her mouth. He tilts his head in silent approval before he’s dropping his hand.

He moves off of her, stepping off his bed to step out of his pants as she props herself up on her forearms, her eyes widening when his cock springs free. Truthfully, she expected the length, not that she’d thought about it before, but the thickness made her core throb just at the sight. He was big and she’s not sure how she’s going to take all of him, but she wasn’t going to back out.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be easy,” He smugly says as he kneels on the bed.

“Don’t,” She rushes out, “I don’t want you to.”

He raises his eyebrows at her eagerness, his fingers looping into the waistband of her shorts, sliding the material down her legs. He discards them somewhere in his room, his hands grasping the sides of her thighs while he leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses to the inside of them. Chandler throws her head back, pushing it into the pillow when she feels his warm breath hit her pussy.

“Jeremy,” She moans, her fingers carding through his hair and roughly pulling on the strands, “I appreciate the thought, but I need you to fuck me. Now.”

Without warning, he’s pressing his tongue flat and licking a stripe between her folds, sending a jolt to her nerves when he brushes against her clit. His laughter vibrates against her, making Chandler whimper in desperation. If she thought too much about it, she’d be a little embarrassed at how easily she folded and bent to his will, but that seemed like a problem for later. Now, all she could think about was how he feels inside of her.

“Be patient,” He chastises as he pushes himself up so his face is hovering over her own, his hand now tracing her inner thighs, “Gotta prepare you first. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it,” She pleads as his fingers tease her entrance, “Please. I promise I’ll be fine.”

“You know,” He starts as he pushes his middle finger inside of her, “I like it much better when you’re begging instead of bitching.”

“Yeah,” Her voice breaks off into a moan, “I like you much better when you’re being useful and not annoying.”

Her words make him break out into a mischievous smile as he watches her eyes screw shut, his finger working in and out of her. Her walls stretch around his thick fingers, and it’s only when her face begins to slip back into a more lax state that he carefully adds a second finger. Chandler’s hands fly to his back, searching the planes of muscles until she gets a good enough hold as her desperate pants fill the room.

“You think you’re ready, pretty girl,” He asks, tone a mixture of sincerity and triumph.

“Yes,” She nods, her eyes opening to meet his own.

He removes his fingers from her center, her walls clenching around the empty feeling as he brings them up to her mouth. She lets him slide them into her mouth with no complaints, her tongue swirling around the digits as she maintains his gaze. He pulls them out of her mouth, a trail of saliva stringing between them before he slams his lips against hers.

Chandler feels him lining himself up with her entrance, her mouth working against his own in a teeth clashing and messy kiss. He slowly pushes into her, her fingers digging crescent shaped marks into his back as she hisses in slight discomfort. He’s pulling his face away from her, his eyes concerned as he watches her face twist in pain.

“Are you okay,” He worriedly asks, brows slightly furrowing.

“I’m okay,” She says, voice trembling, “It’s okay. Keep going.”

He goes until he physically can’t anymore, filling her up entirely, and she’s wincing as the sharp pain between her legs steadily dulls. The way her walls are clenching around his cock causes small grunts to fall from his lips, and he drops his head to her shoulder as he waits. He can’t stop himself from biting and sucking at the skin of her collarbone, wanting to markup the untouched skin he missed only minutes ago.

“You can move,” Chandler finally manages to get out, “Do not be all sweet and gentle. Fuck me like you mean it.”

That was all the confirmation he needed before he’s nearly pulling all the way out of her, his hips roughly snapping against her own. Chandler lets out a string of curse words as he slams into her, the sound of their skin meeting bouncing off the walls of his bedroom. Her nails are scraping down his back, and he’s grateful that at least he won’t have to change around the guys anytime soon and endure any teasing from the marks she’s leaving on his back.

“Fuck, baby,” He grunts into her ear, “You’re doing such a good job, taking me so well.”

The way Jeremy is hitting into Chandler leaves her mind foggy, the only thing she can think about is the way he feels inside of her. All she can think about is him and the way she’s never been fucked so hard that all she can chant is someones name, or so well that she’s already moments away from reaching her release. 

Jeremy pulls all the way out of her, effortlessly flipping her body over and dragging her hips up into the air. He gives her a second to plant her knees on his bed before he’s driving back inside of her, deeper and harder than he was before. Chandler’s face is buried in his mattress as she grasps his sheets, trying to find anything to ground her to reality. 

“You’re so much easier to tolerate when you can’t stop moaning my name,” He mocks, leaning forward so he can wrap his hand around her throat, “Like hearing your pretty little moans instead of you telling me I’m being too loud.”

Chandler lets his comments slide, letting him pull her head up by her throat as he continues slamming into her from behind. She uses her hands to keep her body up, the coil in her stomach tightening so much that she knows she’s going to be done for soon.

“I’m gon- Oh, fuck,” She cuts herself off as he rams into her g-spot. 

“I know, pretty girl,” He groans, his grip on her throat tightening just enough, “Let go. Cum all my over my cock.”

With the added pressure to her throat, Chandler’s vision blurs and her orgasm is tearing through her body in a white hot, searing heat. Her juices coat his cock as he continues thrusting into her, her moans morphing into desperate pants that mesh with his own. Her walls are clenching around him in a way that makes him see stars, and he quickly pulls all the way out of her before he cums inside of her.

Chandler lets her body fall to his bed as he takes himself in his hands, pumping just a few times before he releases his load all over her backside. Typically, Chandler hated when guys would finish on her back because it rendered her a little helpless until they came and cleaned her up, but for some reason, she didn’t mind when it was Jeremy. 

The world blurs around her for a minute, the only thing that brings her back down to earth is the gentle stroke of his hand on her hair followed by the sound of his voice. She was still barely there, but she’s almost positive that he said something about a towel. Her own thoughts are proven correct not that long after when she feels a warm, damp towel wiping at the liquid on her back. 

“Who knew you were Mr. Aftercare,” Chandler weakly laughed.

“I’m not a total asshole,” He joked, throwing the towel off towards his laundry.

I know, Chandler thought, and that’s what terrified her.

[warsofasoiaf]

Things are not looking good for the Ukrainians in Avdiivka, is it safe to say that they should begin a phased withdraw to preserve strength like the US advised them to at Bakmut (which Syrskyi ignored and is one of the reasons he is disliked by the troops)?

I'd need more information to make that determination. Without the ability to make precision strikes to arrest Russian momentum, it may be wise.

I'm disappointed. The House GOP is subservient to Trump, who's big mad that Zelenskyy wouldn't give him oppo dirt and gets flattered by Putin telling him how big and strong he is. The Dems are so terrified of Russian escalation that they'll drip-feed aid so that Ukraine loses slower. Half of Europe doesn't want to address the threat seriously and boost domestic arms manufacture, and the US doesn't seem interested in collecting the easy money on the table to build more defense hardware.

It's depressing because of how avoidable this was. Had we committed, early and decisively, to giving Ukraine the ability to completely obliterate the Russian Armed Forces, this war could have been over. Ukraine could have attacked before the Russians could have dig in, made some key breakthroughs to threaten the Crimean Land Bridge, and using Western munitions to destroying the rail infrastructure leading to Ukraine. This could have been the chance for the Western world to remove a major geopolitical threat at little cost - and then put ourselves on a strong footing to deter China from its revisionist aims. Instead, we've demonstrated that by-and-large, Western political leadership are cowards, unwilling to actually try.

Thanks for the question, Bruin. Sorry for being in a bad mood.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (170-172)

Holden Chase again, a few proposals in the making, and the end of a season.

If you'd like to follow along you can do so here.

170. Lessons Learned

The Bruins are coming to town, and to say Bryce is prepared might be an understatement.

Boy’s had Eye of the Tiger running through his head every time he’s hitting a punching bag (and he’s been hitting them a suspicious amount)

It isn’t even the first time they’ve played the Bruins since Jared got blindsided at TD Garden, but Bryce was thousands of kilometres away, so he couldn’t do anything stupid.

Well, unless Jared counts probably egging Dmitry on

No probably about it.

“Don’t do something stupid,” Jared says.

“Everybody keeps telling me that,” Bryce complains.

“Because they know you’re going to do something stupid,” Jared says.

But you don’t understand, J, he wants to do the stupid thing.

“I won’t start it,” Bryce says. “Okay? I’m not making any other promises. If he starts it, that’s on him.”

“Fine,” Jared allows, because he’s pretty sure that’s the best offer he’s going to get.

Little does Jared know Bryce considers ‘having the audacity to share the ice with me’ to be starting it.

“Define pissy for me, Dmitry,” Jared says.

“I think he made Landon cry,” Dmitry says.

His eyes just got a little misty. Must be hay fever or something.

Jared kicks his sneaker.

“What?” Bryce snaps, not looking up.

“Fighting me for my honour seems counterproductive,” Jared says.

Everyone cleared the fuck out the second Jared entered that room. Bullet's mood was bad enough, no way they want to witness this.

“Dmitry said you’re making dudes cry,” Jared says.

“Dima exaggerates,” Bryce says, which is true, but he looks guilty as he says it.

Only his allergies, don’t worry about it!

“If you’re a dick that means I have to be the nice one,” Jared says. “And I’m categorically terrible at that, so quit it.”

Jared’s priorities, everyone.

“You’re nice—“

Jared kicks his foot, and Bryce scowls up at him.

“No I’m not,” Jared says.

Don’t you lie to him, he’ll kick you while you’re down just to prove you wrong.

There’s only so much distance the guys on either side of his stall can give him, so instead they look longsuffering as Bryce bounces his knee, pendant between his lips.

This is big Holden Chase energy. Bryce would hate that.

He was hoping Chase would be smart enough to steer clear of Bryce, considering it’s public knowledge who he’s married to, but either he doesn’t remember the blindside hit — to be fair, he does throw a lot of them — or he doesn’t give a shit, which wouldn’t surprise Jared either.

There is a third option, but frankly Holden would prefer you thinking it’s one of those two.

“Bullet won,” Dmitry says proudly.

“Nobody won,” Jared says. “Nobody wins in a game of head trauma.”

Jared will have you know he is unimpressed.

But honestly, Chase probably could have said ‘nice day, isn’t it?’ and it would have lead to a fight, so he wouldn’t be surprised either.

How dare you say that when you know FULL well it was overcast and drizzling.

“You’re very pretty,” Dmitry says. “Women would kill for your eyelashes.”

“You just said that,” Jared says.

“Beware of Oksana,” Dmitry says, shaking his shoulder for emphasis.

He just rolls out of bed looking like that? His looks are WASTED on him, says Oksana.

“Why is Dmitry repeatedly warning me about his wife?” Jared asks Gabe, during a TV break Dmitry spends exchanging insults and obscenities with the Bruins bench — they play each other twice a year, so Jared doesn’t know that kind of animosity builds, except of course he does, because it’s Dmitry.

It will surprise no one that Shithead is involved in this.

“He was trying to distract you from stewing about the fight,” Gabe says. “And succeeding, I might add.”

“Oh,” Jared says. Being handled by Dmitry Kurmazov is a new low for him, he thinks.

He handles you all the time, you just don’t realise it. Which has to be a lower low.

The period expires before Bryce’s misconduct does, and Bryce skates across the ice, marching straight down the tunnel. If Jared hoped time in the box would cool him off, well — he wasn’t, really, considering every time he looked over Bryce was yelling shit at the opposite box, poor Jan sitting mute beside him, serving the additional two.

Jan deserves a drink or ten for that time in the box. Take it out of all the fines Bryce and Jared have recently paid.

“I’m not sorry,” Bryce says. He sounds as petulant as Jared’s ever heard him, and that’s saying something. “J’s off limits.”

Bryce was expecting Stevie or Gabe, here. Though it’s not like he’s saying anything Jared doesn’t know.

Bryce has a split lip, which really completes the surly teenager pout. He winces when Jared’s fingers brush his mouth, but doesn’t pull away, not then, and not when Jared kisses him.

“That’s not positive reinforcement,” Jared says, when he pulls away.

You can’t just say that and make it true, Jared.

Jared doesn’t know if it’s game management, the refs figuring the best place for Chase to be is the box for both team’s sakes, or the fact that Chase is just a fucking idiot who doesn’t know when to quit, but he takes two more penalties that night, spends more time in the box than he does on the ice with either of them.

Hey! Holden will have you know he’s a driven individual...who doesn’t know when to quit.

The Canucks handily take the game — Chase’s penalties don’t hurt — and normally they’d join the team for a drink or two to celebrate the win, but Jared isn’t in the mood, and Bryce frankly doesn’t deserve it.

He says this like he isn’t about to positively reinforce Bryce some more.

“This is not a reward,” Jared tells him, once they get in their front door.

“Okay,” Bryce says. He sounds distracted, which Jared supposes isn’t surprising, considering Jared’s currently unbuckling his belt.

“I don’t approve of any of your behaviour tonight,” Jared says.

He’s getting some mixed messages right now, but that’s okay, carry on, Jared.

“You want to lecture me or you want to get your dick sucked?” Bryce asks.

“I can do both,” Jared says.

“Fair enough,” Bryce says, moving to drop to his knees.

Go right ahead, Bryce is game.

171. All In

and whenever Bryce is happy, Jared can’t keep from joining in.

These two are like a feedback loop. Bryce Happy = Jared Happy = Bryce Happy…

“Can’t give people shit to say about me,” Bryce says.

“That implies they’ve actually shut up since Julius’ interview,” Jared says. He still refuses to look, on principle, but by all accounts it hasn’t died down yet.

“Okay, yeah,” Bryce says. “But if I came back and sucked they’d probably say it was because I was gay. Like, let my sexuality become a distraction, or whatever the fuck.”

Don’t know about you, but I can’t wait for the first out NHLer to inevitably get a streak of bad play blamed on the 'distraction' of their sexuality.

“Like, not more hockey media, or, kind of hockey but more like, a profile thing? How it was growing up gay in hockey, that kind of thing,” Bryce says. He looks weirdly nervous, especially for someone who’s done more media in the past few months than he likely did his entire tenure with the Flames.

Jared frowns. “Is PR Grace pushing for more interviews? I thought she was supposed to chill when you got off IR.”

“No, I was just — I was talking to Summers, and he was saying the fact people want to talk to me right now gives me a chance to establish myself as like, I am now,” Bryce says. “Kind of like — not set the record straight, exactly, but like, show I’ve matured and stuff. That I’m not the dude I was when I met you.”

Bryce isn’t lying but he is obfuscating. Still in the planning stages, still not ready to tell Jared.

He’s less magnanimous about it when Bryce’s apologetic ‘I have media’ keeps fucking with their carpooling; more often than not he’s got to head in early, or cut out straight from practice and leave Gabe to drop Jared off. Gabe’s way more chill about it than Jared is, which is frustrating, because Bryce has very much noticed that, and when he points it out it makes Jared look petty.

Does it, Jared? Does it make you look petty?

“What you and Stephen find annoying doesn’t impact my behaviour,” Gabe says, pulling out his e-reader. “You two are irritated by so many things that I’d never be able to keep any of it straight.”

The list that would be.

“You look like your kid right now,” Jared says. He lost a tooth the last time Bryce babysat the Kurmazovs. Literally. It was a whole thing. Bryce sent Jared at least half a dozen frantic texts before they found in the pantry for fuck knows what reason. Bryce’s theory is aliens. Jared’s is the much simpler explanation that Bryce is being fucked with by small children.

He put it somewhere he wouldn’t forget about it (beside the cookies) and then he promptly, you know. Forgot the place he swore he wouldn’t forget about. No aliens or practical jokes required.

“See, I told you he’s not just pissy when Bullet isn’t around,” drifts over to him.

Jared’s not sure who said it, but he’ll find out.

“I heard that,” he says, and waits for a flinch.

“Math,” Gabe says, not looking up from his e-reader. “Stop terrorizing the rookies.”

I’m so proud of Jared’s growth from ‘non-participant’ to ‘terrorizer of rookies’.

“I see you,” Jared says, then, “Ow,” when Gabe elbows him.

“I’m trying to read,” Gabe says.

Jared pulls his phone out. “I’m trying to read too.”

“Good,” Gabe says.

“Good,” Jared says.

The patience Gabe has.

Jared’s thoroughly sick of his teammates when they get back to Vancouver. Bryce apparently isn’t, considering he’s at Gavin’s fighting for Smash Bros supremacy, while Jared crawls under the bet blanket on the couch and refuses to surface for anything. Which is unfortunate, because he’s hungry now, but he’s committed.

Extrovert after road trip vs introvert after road trip.

Jared’s checking in on how the Hitmen are doing when Raf sends Jared a picture of a diamond ring, with no context. Jared’s still processing it when Chaz sends him a text saying do u think ash would marry me?

She literally had your baby. Jared replies. He wonders if Raf sent Chaz the photo too, and that’s what sparked it, or if they’ve got some kind of hivemind going on in the Eastern Conference.

Hivemind.

But actually, baby 2 on the way in the case of the Guerin Rossis, and approaching offseason in the case of the Sanchez Dawes household, accompanied by a lot of recent wedding invites that got Raf’s brain humming.

“Hello,” Raf says. He doesn’t sound like he’s panicking, but then, Jared’s never heard him panic before, so how would he know?

“Are you panicking?” Jared asks.

“I wouldn’t describe this feeling as panic, exactly,” Raf says.

Big time panicking happening.

“Well,” Raf says. “Do you think Grace would marry me?”

“I think she moved to an entirely different country to be with you,” Jared says.

Raf’s quiet. “Is that yes?”

Jared just tell them yes, they don't want to hear logic, they want to hear yes.

“And I mean, have we even been together long enough to consider marriage?” Raf asks.

Considering Raf was already dating Grace when IJ(aoe) began…yes, Raf.

It takes awhile to convince Raf that he’s not about to get turned down, even after Raf admits he and Grace have literally discussed marriage like, half a dozen times, and the only thing that’s going to come as a surprise to her is the time and place.

Of course Raf would never propose without serious discussions taking place first.

You’re not allowed to propose to my sister any time soon, Jared texts after he gets off the phone with Raf.

I do not require your approval., Julius replies,

Could have told him about the not planning on it right then, but it was too good an opportunity not to take. Also facts.

Julius snorts. “I am not planning on proposing to your sister.”

“Why, what’s wrong with her?” Jared says. “I mean, I know exactly what’s wrong with her, but—”

“You just told me not to!” Julius says. “And there is nothing wrong with her!”

This conversation is just constant mixed messaging on both sides.

What’s wrong with Julius? Jared says.

Nothing is wrong with Julius. He doesn’t believe in marriage either

It seems that Julius is screening his calls now too. Typical.

Why is no one willing to listen to Jared’s pro-marriage propaganda.

“Everyone’s getting married,” Julius says. “Except my sister. She’s too young.”

“She doesn’t believe in marriage,” Bryce says.

“Why do you know that?” Jared says.

Because Bryce isn’t demanding she marry his former liney, right after forbidding said liney from marrying her. (Seriously, the messages could not be more mixed)

“I should probably call him,” Jared says. “Make sure he doesn’t hide it somewhere stupid like the sock drawer.”

“Hey!” Bryce says. “It wasn’t stupid.”

“Maybe not in our case,” Jared says. “Considering you were looking to get caught.”

Bryce blinks at him, then belatedly says, “Huh. I was, wasn’t I?”

Not consciously, but absolutely.

“Pretty well,” Jared agrees. “There’s a pizza with mushrooms in the kitchen.”

“You hate mushrooms,” Bryce beams.

It’s very easy for Jared to do nice things for Bryce considering when Bryce notices (and he always notices) he lights right up. Palpable reward for good behaviour.

172. Responsibility

he does suspect his next contract might be longer term, likely as a concession to Bryce.

Not to diminish Jared as a player, but yes, as a concession to Bryce. He’s an RFA with limited bargaining rights, it likely would have been in the 1-2 year ‘show me’ range, ending while they still had his rights. Instead the contract he gets takes him right into free-agency. (Term’s long for middle sixer, but price is fair value)

They lose their final game to the Oilers playing spoiler, and Jared only has time for a hug and a blanket hand-off before Julius is wheels up, on his way back to Edmonton for his own final game.

Season’s blanket tally: Julius: 3, Jared: 1. Embarrassing considering their respective place in the standings, but Jared made the mistake of motivating Julius Halla.

Jared would prefer something a little more chill than the trays of shots going around, people screaming to one another over the music, but he knows it’s what the majority wants, and he’s fine sitting in a corner with Gabe and Stephen, sharing judgmental looks as everyone else makes fools of themselves. Well, sharing judgmental looks with Stephen. Gabe just looks on indulgently.

Look at Jared contentedly sitting with the marrieds, sharing mean telepathic comments with Stephen. He’s having fun.

It takes a couple more rounds, along with Gabe and Stephen abandoning him with some excuse about being ‘old and tired’ (Gabe) and ‘not old or tired, thank you, but I do have work tomorrow’ (Stephen)

Fair (Gabe), and lie (Stephen.) Stephen does have work tomorrow. He’s also getting sleepy.

“It was a competition,” Bryce says. “And I lost.”

“Or maybe you won?” Jared asks. “By not drinking more? Maybe that was the real way to win?”

Bryce considers this seriously for a moment, then shakes his head. “No.”

Bryce really mulling over whether that’s the point of drinking contests for a minute, he lost so badly.

“Alright, time to head home then, loser,” Jared says.

Two of the younger players give Jared absolutely scandalized looks. Kids these days have such delicate sensibilities.

“I meant it affectionately,” Jared says.

“I know you did, babe,” Bryce says. “It’s like, your love language.”

Jared’s love language: snark

Bryce’s love language: all of them

Actual love languages though: physical touch and/or quality time(Jared) and seriously, all of them (Bryce), but gift giving probably edges the rest out.

Bryce slumps into Jared in the Uber, and Jared wraps an arm around him, making supportive noises while Bryce mumbles to him about how he thinks Oksana might have a hollow leg.

“Maybe she stores it all in those five inch heels she wears,” Jared says.

Oksana is 5’4”. Her husband is 6’2”. She needs the damn heels or she’ll get a crick in her neck.

Her leg may or may not be hollow.

“Okay, okay, you’re a heavyweight,” Jared says.

“Thank you,” Bryce says, then slumps right back into him, and Jared fights a smile, wrapping his arm around him as they drive into the ink dark night.

“Super heavyweight,” Bryce murmurs.

In amateur boxing, Bryce, at 205 lbs, would be a super heavyweight (200+). Yes, he did fall into a rabbit hole about boxing one night many years ago when he was supposed to be doing a project for school. No, the project did not get turned in on time. Yes, he still does know random facts he learned that night. No, none of them have actually been relevant until right this moment.

Jared’s so fucking sick of the Kansas City Scouts.

It’s you!! It’s always you!!

Think how heated the blanket war’s going to be when Julius is in KC.

Jared shaves his still patchy beard, taking his time. The last thing he needs is to show up to media day nicked up because he was in too shitty a mood to do it right. He looks better after he does it, but his face feels naked, wrong. He hates the playoff beard tradition — even if he could pull it off, and he definitely can’t, shaving it off feels like the worst kind of penance, forced to look in the mirror when the last thing anyone wants to do is look themselves in the eye.

Seriously though. ‘Here is a tradition where if you lose, you have to look at yourself in the mirror and shave away the physical embodiment of your hopes and dreams’. Absolutely brutal, hockey.

“What are you doing?” Bryce says when Jared pulls the covers back. “No, stop.”

He thinks Jared is about to try to get him out of bed. If he knew cuddling was coming he’d be fine with this.

“Hey,” Jared says, nudging his knee against Bryce’s under the covers.

“You want to talk about it?” Bryce asks.

“Not really,” Jared says.

“Thank fuck,” Bryce says, then buries his face in Jared’s neck, curling into him while Jared strokes a hand through his hair.

Physical touch and quality time, baby.

“Want to go sulk in the sulking room?” Jared asks.

“Stop calling it that,” Bryce says. Jared would like to note that is not a no.

I was informed by a reader that the word boudoir is from bouder (to pout/sulk), so it literally translates into ‘a place to sulk’, or ‘sulking room’. Which is incredible. Bryce’s boudoir, everybody.

“Been a hell of a year, huh?” Brian says.

“You could say that, yeah,” Jared says.

“Good one, though,” Brian says. “Shit, I meant a good one for the Canucks, not necessarily — obviously Bryce being injured, and you and Bryce having to come out was—“

“It was a good one,” Jared interrupts.

Jared would not typically interrupt his boss, but Brian sometimes wears this look on his face like ‘please stop me the words keep coming’, and Jared will do so if he sees it. He knew what Brian meant.

“I want you to keep doing what you’re doing,” Brian says. “I mean, on the ice, not — obviously keep doing what you’re doing off the ice if you want to, it’s just none of my business. I mean technically — I’m going to sip my coffee for a moment, excuse me.”

Sometimes Brian stops himself, though.

“It’s a bit unorthodox to be telling another player before — but you’re his husband, and after the year he’s had I don’t want to —“

Brian really doesn’t want to add to Bryce’s load. Everyone seems to think Bryce would want it (Team leadership, coaching staff), but Brian figures it doesn’t hurt to check one last time with the person who’d know best.

Jared’s barely put the groceries away when Bryce texts him saying he’s on his way back. To be fair, that included clearing the fridge and pantry of everything expired, because otherwise their new groceries weren’t all going to fit, and also finding then rescuing the pucks from under the sink, where Bryce must have put them at the height of the sulk.

Stupid pucks. Who cares. Game-winners didn’t win the SERIES, do they.

Jared sits on the couch and waits for Bryce, trying to look casual. Fidgets with the remote, though he’s turned the TV off — having it on distracted him from his casual pose. Jared considers that maybe staring fixedly at a blank TV isn’t actually casual, but then it’s too late, because over the completely silent TV he can hear a key in the lock.

I still can’t believe this dude thought he would be able to pretend he wasn’t married to Bryce.

“They’re giving me an A!” Bryce calls the second he opens the door. “J!”

“What?” Jared says, and puts the remote down, standing up. “Really?”

“Brian told me he talked to you about it, you don’t have to pretend to be surprised,” Bryce says.

It was an absolutely pitiful attempt at ignorance. Somehow Jared had an accent?

Also I love that every time Bryce has good news he rushes to tell Jared. It's not real until Jared knows.

“I know,” Jared says. He really should, though. The receipt’s the length of his arm, and they’ll probably have to leave a bunch of it at Elaine’s, it was so excessive. “I’m really proud of you. You deserve it.”

Jared is NOT a words of affirmation person, and this is honestly huge from him? Saying that without any jokes or backsliding or anything, just that he’s proud of him.

Bryce somehow gets even more radiant. Jared didn’t think that was possible. “Brian said I was a glue guy.”

“You are a glue guy,” Jared says.

From locker room cancer to glue guy. I’m so proud of him.

“Not a thing people used to call me,” Bryce says. “Not a thing I used to be, though, so that’s fair.”

Jared would protest, but it’s not like Bryce is lying. “You weren’t in the right place yet.”

He’s come so far, truly. Got a bit misty writing this scene due to just how far Bryce has come.

[pastrnaks-sainz]

My grandfather passed away 2 days ago.

He was Bruins fan his whole life.

He caddied for the likes of Bobby Orr and a handful of other Big Bad Bruins.

He was the kindest, sweetest man I knew.

So yeah. This one was for him. This one feels really fucking good.