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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years

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Bubble Wrapped - Part 8

Word Count: 4,741

POV: Reader

Warnings: Same as always, Language, Smut, NSFW, Please see the note in the Masterlist

Teams: Bruins, Caps, Flyers, Lightning and Pens (others)

Notes: So here’s the next installment of this series. Trying to move this along a little quicker. For a series that was only supposed to be 3 to 5 parts it’s practically double that. Ugh! Anyhow, I hope you guys enjoy. As always send me your feedback and suggestions. Happy Reading!

When your phone rang during your FaceTime with Tyler, you didn't expect who or what you heard to be on the other end. There was no 'Hi' or 'How are you' just a quick, "Hey (Y/N), I need your help?"

"Well hello to you too, Brandon." You told the winger from Pittsburgh.

"Oh yeah, Hi." You hadn't seen much of Tanev or Crosby for that matter since that night of the poker game in your suite, so it was kind of interesting to hear from him now.

"What do you need help with?"

"Well, you probably already know this, but it's Sid's birthday on Friday. The guys were saying they want to do something special with him playing that day and all. I may have mentioned that we've talked before…" He paused then and you had to wonder what else he'd told his teammates about that night. Hopefully, he didn't know about what happened with his captain after he left. "Anyhow, we were hoping to do a little party after the game, maybe with a cake and everything? And I was wondering if you could help me pull that off."

"I'm sure it won't be a problem." He could've given you a bit more notice, but you figured Carly could get you any decorations that you needed and you'd have one of the chefs whip up a cake.

"You're a lifesaver."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. I'm just doing my job." Which you totally were, though you'd go the extra mile since it was Sidney. "I'll shut down one of the restaurants and we'll have it all ready to go after the game for you. Anything special you're looking for."

"Nah, whatever you do will be amazing." Brandon was being awfully complimentary, which was appreciated though you wondered if he had another motive. Not that you'd mind going a second round. Actually, you'd like to expand on the first one that you'd had with him and Zack, though being interrupted by Sid really wasn't something you minded. "I definitely owe you one."

"Hmm, I suppose you do. I might have to collect on it soon." Though it wasn't going to be tonight as you still needed to take that Tylenol for your jaw.

"I'll hold you to it." You were sure he would, it would just be a matter of when. "Well, listen if you have any questions you have my number, so just call."

"I will," you told Brandon, then you said your goodbyes and headed to bed for the night. The next day was fairly normal, though you and Carly worked on party details for the next day. Thankfully, your pastry chef was excited to make a cake for one of hockey's best player. He told you it would be magnificent and you had no doubt that he would come through. Carly was able to transform the restaurant from its quiet dining atmosphere into a celebratory nightclub. She was even able to get one of the other staff members to act as DJ for the event. You were quite pleased with what both of you pulled off when it was finally said and done. Now all you needed was the birthday boy.

"Brayden pointed out…" Carly said then started to giggle. "Did you see what I did there?" All you could do was shake your head at her bad pun on Brayden's last name, and tell her yes. "Well anyway, he said this might not be a celebration if the Pens lose. You realize they'll be eliminated right?"

"Fuck." The word flew out of your mouth as you realized she was right. You kept forgetting that these qualifying rounds were best of five instead of normal playoffs which were seven. "We may have done all this work for nothing." The two of you kept an eye on the score, watching it remain zero, zero, until only minutes left in the third when the Canadiens scored. That's when the f-bomb dropped out of your mouth again, only this time you realized you may be losing that bet to Tyler, not that you would mind that. His remote vibrator play had been fun and you were beginning to think that being his sex slave for twenty-four hours might not be so bad. As time ticked down, you could see the desperation in the Pens play. Things weren't coming together for them and you had a feeling that it wasn't going to be a birthday that Sid wanted to remember.

"We may end up turning this party into a, congratulations on making the playoffs party for the Canadiens," Carly commented and you had to agree as the puck slid into the empty net, essentially sealing the fate of the Penguins. All that was left was for the horn to sound, and when it did, you grabbed your phone and shot Brandon a text as to what he wanted to do. His reply was to be radio silent, so you were left wondering if you'd be eating that birthday cake alone.

About an hour later, your phone buzzed. Party's a no go. Sid is pissed.

"Well, looks like this party is over before it even started."

"All this work," Carly sighed.

"I hear you, Car, but I wouldn't be in a mood to party if I just lost my ticket to the Stanley Cup Playoffs." These guys were probably down in the dumps, then again maybe not. A lot of them had families that they seemed to want to get home to, so maybe they were looking at this as a blessing. All you knew, is that now that the Pens were moving out, the next top-seeded team would be moving in and you needed to get the transitioning team ready to go for when they left. After taking down the decorations with Carly, you went to find out when the Pens would be leaving and what their exit plan was. It was obvious to you when they'd put the top-seeded teams in your hotel, that they planned on them staying awhile, so having them move out so soon, wasn't something you were prepared for. People would have to be shifted around so that rooms could be ready hours after they left. You reworked the schedule to make all of this happen and hadn't even noticed the Pens come into the hotel.

It was hours later when most of the hotel was quiet that you realized there was something you had to do. Making your way back up to the restaurant, you found the birthday cake that had been specially made for Sidney. You cut a large piece and placed a candle on it. Taking it to Sid's room was a risk, but you couldn't let his birthday go without notice. He answered your knock fairly quickly, though didn't look pleased at all. You pasted on a bright smile before saying, "So I couldn't let the day pass without at least saying Happy Birthday." You held the cake out towards him.

"Thanks," he answered, a small lop-sided grin on his face. "Not really a birthday I want to remember."

"I get that," you answered, now noticing that his suitcase was on his bed and that he must have been packing to go home. "Well, I just wanted to drop this off." He took the cake out of your hand and this awkwardness came over both of you. It was nothing like it was the other night with him. "Well…um…take care Sid." Turning, you headed towards the elevators, somewhat expecting Sid to call you back. As you pressed the button, you heard his door shut and knew that wasn't going to happen. At least you had a little fun with him, you told yourself as you headed up to your suite for the night. He had every right to be upset; you weren't exactly sure what you were expecting when you knocked on the door but it is what it is, you thought as you headed inside. You took off your blazer, setting it on the chair before heading over to the bar to pour yourself a glass of wine before heading off to bed when you heard the knock on the door.

You were half annoyed as you made your way to the door. Now that you were reconciled to a night alone, all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and go to sleep. "Sid?" To say you were shocked when you opened the door was putting it mildly. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah," he breathed out, and you raised your brow in question. "This piece of cake is too big for one person. I thought maybe you'd want to share it with me?"

"Oh…um…sure." He gave you a little smile and opened the door wider for him to come in. He followed you over to the couch, the two of you sitting down.

"So, did you really have a cake made for me?"

"Yeah." Well, there was no point in saying you didn't, when the piece you'd cut for him had his name on it. "Speaking of which, hold on one second." You dashed into the kitchen then came back out with a match to light the candle. Singing a quick happy birthday to Sid, you then said, "Make a wish." He thought about it for a second then blew the candle out. "I know it's not the birthday you thought it would be." It had to be hard to go from celebrating with the cup two years in a row to now being eliminated in the qualifying rounds.

"I'd be lying if I said it was. I never thought I'd play a hockey game on my birthday, let alone lose that game. It's definitely one I want to forget about." He seemed to think about what he just said, for he quickly added, "well maybe not all of it."

The night was still young, so you were anxious to see if you could maybe turn this birthday around for him. "I should've gotten another fork." You made a move to get up but he stopped you with a hand on your thigh.

"I think we can share." Sid dipped the fork into the cake then fed you the piece. Of course, it was delicious, but you were more focused on the man who was feeding you than the actual cake itself.

"Mmm," you hummed as you enjoyed the sugary treat and you watched as Sid's tongue darted out to lick his lips. Grabbing the fork from him, you proceeded to feed him a piece as well. "You probably should've gotten the first bite."

He hummed his approval as well, the sound sending a rush of heat to your core. "I'd rather have a bite of something else." As soon as the words left his mouth, his hand was at the back of your neck pulling you towards him where his lips were on yours. The kiss wasn't tentative, it was full-on heat from the moment you touched. Each of you yearning for the other. Vaguely, you remember setting the cake down on the coffee table, so that you could reach up and wrap your arms around Sid's neck, pulling yourself closer to him. You felt yourself melting into him and the couch as he guided you back against the cushions.

His body lay heavily on top of yours but you welcomed the weight, as you both shifted trying to seek more contact with each other. Sid's hand glided down your body, and he scrunched your skirt up to your hips so that his body could fit between your legs. He continued to devour your mouth, and you felt like you were back in high school making out on your parent's sofa. His hands roamed up your body, untucking your shirt so he could glide them up to feel your breasts. Sid rolled your covered nipple between his thumb and forefinger; your back arching up into his touch as you moaned into the kiss.

His lips finally broke from yours, so you could both catch your breath. "We could move this upstairs," you suggested.

"I like that idea," he answered capturing your lips again briefly before easing off the couch and helping you up. When you adjusted your skirt back down he just cocked his head at you with a little smirk on his face. "Did you think that was necessary?"

"Depends on if you want a show or not?"

"There are options?" That was sort of a loaded question you weren't sure you wanted to answer.

"Aren't there always?" You were at the top of the stairs then and his hands grabbed you around the waist and hauled you close to him so that you were nose to nose.

"There's a lot of questions going on here, maybe we should just quit talking."

He gave you a full ten seconds to answer before crushing your mouth to his. Before you knew it, you were in your bedroom. His hands were all over you and you couldn't get enough of it, but you were also doing your share of touching every exposed inch of his body. The last time the two of you were together, he'd maintained this cool composure as he'd gotten you off on his thigh while remaining completely clothed. You weren't going to miss the opportunity this time to see Sidney on his birthday in his birthday suit. Gathering his shirt in your hands, you broke from the kiss to lift it off his body. The man was simply perfection, as your nails raked across his abs. He shivered at your touch but then thrust into your hips letting you know that he wanted you just as much as you did him.

Sid's hands were at the back of your skirt, searching for the zipper until he found it and slid it down so you could shimmy out of the garment. He wasn't satisfied with just getting you out of that though, as he all but tore your shirt from your body. You could swear that you heard the seam rip, but you didn't care. He held you at arms-length then, drinking in the sight of you clad only in your bra and thong. "Mmm, you're the best present I've unwrapped today." He hummed out in appreciation as he stared at you.

You blushed at the compliment that rolled off his tongue, before taking a deep breath to regain your composure. "You still have more to unwrap."

"So it seems," he chuckled and then turned your body so that your back was to him as he unhooked your bra. "Have to make it last," he whispered in your ear, as his lips dropped to the hollow of your neck. Your head fell back against him, rolling to the side to give him greater access as you enjoyed the feel of his mouth hot on you. One strap slid down your shoulder, the bra just barely hanging on until he slithered the other one down with it. You could feel his eyes on your breasts as he sucked on your neck, a groan coming from him as his cock pressed into your back. "Beautiful," he breathed out over the spot where he'd just been nibbling, and it was your turn to shiver as the sensation of both hot and cold had goose pimples rising on your flesh. His hands snaked up your sides so he could cup your breasts, toying with your nipples and making them pebble under his touch. You ached to feel his lips there, but Sid took his time, just tweaking and pinching.

His right hand traveled south to your core, as he snuck his hand inside the thin material of your panties; fingers massaging just above your clit. You wanted, no, you needed more. Your hips flexing of their own accord, silently begging him to venture further down. When he did finally touch your clit, you moaned out in pleasure, but Sid didn't stay there long. His fingers slipped between your folds, just running back and forth not entering you. "You're dripping." He turned your head to capture your lips in a short kiss. "Are you always like this or just for me?"

You knew he was looking for his ego to be stroked a bit and you were willing to fondle more than that. "Only for you," you moaned out, as your hand snuck back to rub his cock through his shorts.

"Not yet baby. It's my birthday remember." You nodded weakly, as his fingers played with your pussy. "Take off your panties and lie down on the bed for me." You followed his command, ridding yourself of the flimsy material before climbing onto the mattress, and situating yourself amongst the pillows. "Spread your legs for me princess." Sid had a spell on you, and so you obeyed his orders. "Wider baby, let me see how wet you are." His eyes were riveted to your cunt, which was soaking by this point and only grew wetter under his intense scrutiny. "I seem to recall only getting a taste of that cake downstairs. I wonder if you're as sweet as it was." Sid crawled onto the bed then, positioning himself between your thighs, before grabbing your hips and hauling them towards him. His eyes held yours as his tongue snuck out for that first taste of you. "Mmm, I thinking I need more." He was lapping at your folds and drinking in your juices, while you fisted the sheets from the pleasure of his tongue. Your moans filling the air of the room. "So sweet," he hummed against your pussy, before nibbling on your clit and causing your hips to buck up. His strong arm held you still as he ate you out, alternating between thrusting his tongue inside you and flicking it over your clit.

"Sid, please," you begged, but he kept you teetering on the edge. "Fuck." He slid one finger inside you, your pussy clenching around it. "Oh god," you groaned out at the feel of him. His mouth was solely focused on your clit now that one finger just pumping in and out of you, and you felt your orgasm start to build. It wasn't long before it crested, and wash over you, your body arching up into his mouth. "Sid," you moaned out as you came.

"You're so beautiful when you cum," he panted as his finger slid out of you. "Open," he demanded as he brought that same finger to your lips. You sucked on it, tasting yourself as you ran your tongue around his digit. "Fuck princess, you do that so well." His finger popped out of your mouth, before he said, "how about you try sucking on something else." When you licked your lips in anticipation, he captured them in a searing kiss, then rolled your bodies so that you were laying on top of him. You broke the kiss, then wiggled down his body, trailing kisses on his chest and abdomen as you went. When you got to the waistband, you ran your fingers underneath it, your tongue following your movements as you shimmied his shorts down his legs. Your nails skated up the inside of his bare thighs as his cock sprang free. Taking your tongue, you licked up the underside of his dick before taking the head inside your mouth. He sighed in contentment and his hand reached down to thread through your locks, gently urging you to take more of him. As you sank down inch by slow inch on his cock, Sid groaned with pleasure. "That's it, princess, take me in deep." Sid's thighs weren't the only thing that was thick on him as your mouth took as much of him inside as you could. Slipping your one hand around the base, you pumped what you couldn't fit in, as your jaw worked up and down on the length of him. "Fuck princess, you are so good." You hummed under his praise, the vibrations going through his body had him fisting his hand in your hair. His hips thrust up into your face, making you gag slightly before they moved back down on the mattress. You cupped his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze as you hollowed out your cheeks only to release him with a pop. Running your tongue down his length, you licked at his balls before sucking them. "Jesus," he hissed out, while your hand pumped his erection up and down. Sid gathered your hair at the nape of your neck so he could watch you. "So beautiful," he praised and you moved back up to take him inside your mouth once again. Sounds of sucking and slurping filled the room as your head bobbed up and down on his cock. His balls tensed, right before he pulled you off of him. "Fuck…as much as I want to cum in that pretty little mouth of yours; I'm not ready for the night to be over just yet."

He dragged your body up flush with his so he could kiss you again and he rolled you both one more time. His tongue exploring your mouth with languid strokes, that made you want to kiss him for days on end, but then you felt his dick nudging at your entrance and your body craved him more. As he pressed into your dripping cunt, your leg snaked around his waist, pulling him in closer. "So eager," he breathed out, making eye contact with you until he was buried deep inside you. You'd never felt so full before. Sid's hip thrust just centimeters more into you, his cock hitting deep within your core and you felt stretched beyond compacity. "Is that what you wanted?" Feebly, you nodded a yes. "Words, princess?"

"Yes, Sid…yes," you were panting now with need. Your body aching for him to move. Thankfully he didn't make you beg any longer as he started a slow thrust in and out of your pussy. Sid's mouth moved down your neck, to your breasts, where he took one turret nipple into his mouth and playfully bit down on it. The effect went straight to your cunt, as you could feel the wetness now dripping down to your ass. Yet he continued his slow pace of pumping into you. "Please, Sid…" you begged wanting more. Sid wasn't to be deterred though and continued the rhythm he enjoyed, toying with your nipples as you moaned out in ecstasy.

He was building you slowly up, just gradually bringing you to the edge. You felt your legs start to tense, only to have Sid pull his cock out completely. "On your knees baby." You did his bidding, eager to find that release your body desired. His hands roamed around the globes of your ass, softly caressing it as he pushed back into you. Once he was fully inside, you pushed back against him. "Easy princess," his words on had you repeating the motion until you felt his hand smack hard on your ass. You yelped in surprise, even though the sting sent a rush of sensation to where you both were connected. His hand soothed your bottom, before delivering another blow. This time you moaned, enjoying the bite his hand brought. "You like that, don't you princess?"

"Mmmhmm," you whimpered as he smacked the other side this time.

Finally, Sid started to thrust in and out of your soaking pussy. Every so often spanking you as he went. You could feel your body just hovering on the edge of orgasm, but yet not being able to get there. Sid took a fistful of your hair, yanking you back as he started to pound in and out of you. You were so close. "Are you going to cum for me princess?" An incoherent noise let your lips and even you couldn't tell if it was a yes or a no. Wanting to bring you pleasure, Sid's hand snuck to your clit, where he rubbed your little nub furiously. You started to tremble, and he yanked your hair harder. "Look at me, princess." You turned to see him, right before your climax hit. Your pussy walls contracting around him and pulling him even deeper inside. You called out his name and then he wildly thrust in and out of your body until he came with a loud groan. Sid fell on top of you, your arms collapsing from your orgasm and the weight of him. Only when you both dropped to the mattress did he roll onto his side, taking you with. "Fuck, I needed that."

His hands caressed your body, just a feather-light touch that calmed you both as you floated back to reality. "Me too," you mumbled as his cock slipped out of you. Turning so that you could face him, you cupped his cheek, only noticing then, that he'd shaved his playoff beard off already. "I know it doesn't make up for the loss but I hope you enjoyed that present."

His signature lop-sided grin appeared on his face. "More than you know." His hands now rubbing your ass where he had spanked you. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

A light chuckle escaped your mouth. "No, I enjoyed it."

"Mmm, me too." His hand that was making circles on your ass stopped and you felt him pulling away, only you didn't want him to. This opportunity would probably never happen again and you wanted to enjoy it just a little longer.

"Stay," you found yourself saying and you weren't a hundred percent sure as to why. Every other fling you'd had in this damn hotel had been just that, a quick mating of two people and as soon as it was over, you left or asked them to. But this right here with Sid, something was different. Your mind told you that nothing would ever come of this. That Sid would go on his way back to Pittsburgh or Cole Harbour and go on with things, just as you would here, but you wanted to savor this moment just a little longer.

"Are you sure?" you nodded yes to his question, as you didn't trust your voice at the moment. "Well since you insist." His lips captured yours again, this time the kiss soft and sweet, and you were back to being those two high school kids that were on the couch in the first blush of love. It was not something you wanted to dwell on as you felt your heart give way to this man. When you finally broke apart, the smile on his face had you half falling in love with him. "Sleep, and then we can have another round before I have to leave."

You hated that last part, why did it have to be this way. If only the Pens had won, you thought, but then would you be in this position right now if they had? Would Sid have kept you at arm's length focusing solely on hockey? Your mind ran through a million scenarios, all of them ending the same way and so you told yourself that this was just a fascination with one of hockey's elite players and that the moment he was gone you'd move on. By the time you finally got your racing thoughts under control, Sid was fast asleep. He looked so peaceful as if he didn't have a care in the world and you supposed now that his season was over, he didn't. But the season was still going on for sixteen other teams and you. You needed to focus on them.

Reaching over, you grabbed your phone to check the time, only to notice you'd missed a call and several text messages from Tyler. Tyler, you thought with a wistful sigh. You still had that bet with him. Technically, you'd won for here you were, your body sated from its activities with Sidney. You looked back over at the man, who was sleeping with his arms wrapped around your body. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you decided to snap the picture that would prove as evidence of what had transpired tonight, then you hurriedly set the phone back on the nightstand. Now the only question was, did you send it to Tyler or just keep it as a memory to look back on for years to come.

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alsparaarchive · 3 years

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𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑰𝒕 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅 / Alex & Sid

Date: July 5, 2015 Location: Vancouver Rooftop Bar; The World Cup Celebration

Summary: The first time they ever met.

Date Started: January 31, 2021 Date Completed: still in progress

Sidney He was still somewhere in the middle of getting the confetti that had somehow wedged itself into his right earlobe loose, when Gino had snuck in around him; two girls tucked underneath both his arms, and said something about a party? And, since Sid was still half-deafened by half-an-inch of coloured paper he was forced to lean back in and get the Russian to repeat himself. “Did you say a party?” It was confirmed with a nod and a grin that could’ve taken out the two women still standing beside his friend… “Okay… sure.” The brunette had been hesitant to say yes... First, this was Gino... the Russian had a history of getting the boys to go to parties with him only to find out that once they got there it was just a couple of girls, a couch, and a whole lot of trouble just waiting to happen. Second, his recent break-up with Kathy still felt… raw. Which he knew was why Gino and Kris had him in Vancouver right now watching the Women’s World Cup… distraction was key, right? Not something that either one of them had ever said directly to his face or anything, but the tickets that had presented themselves at exactly that time and to a sport he’d never really had an affinity for, definitely had. And yet… somehow… Gino had kept him from backing out… which was saying a lot of the Russian’s powers of persuasion and probably also a lot about why the Cold War had taken so damn long to come to an end. There was a long line out the restaurant door, but Gino said he had the gold ticket… which had Kris asking if he meant the golden ticket? Gino nodded—making Sidney laugh despite the fact he hated doing the line cut thing, but it wasn’t like they were taking up seats in the restaurant anyway. No, apparently there was some private thing happening on the roof top with their invitees tonight. The deal was, somehow Gino had scored himself an invite to the USA Women’s Soccer Team’s celebratory party via Twitter. Which of course had Sidney from the moment he’d found out till the moment he’d walked up the stairs and sighted a couple of the girls’ he’d seen on the big jumbo screen earlier, doubting. /Sorry Gino/. Suddenly, it was like most eyes in the room were on them as Sidney offered up a big of wave and Gino held out his arms and said USA, USA, USAAAAAA… and okay, it was bad. It was really bad, but at least the atmosphere had cracked, and the bouncers weren’t making any sort of headway towards them… still… Sidney couldn’t help but feel out of place as he walked over to the bar and asked for a drink… bumping shoulders with a girl as he did… “uh, sorry…” he stopped. He recognised her. You didn’t have to be a big soccer fan to recognise the face of Alex Morgan… “maybe I should be buying you a drink…” okay that had come out bad… he internally and externally cringed… “I mean for your big win today…”

Alex The aftermath of winning the World Cup was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, not only for Alex but all her teammates it seemed and almost none of them were on the same ride all ebbing and flowing at different times. There was the high of winning sure but coming to terms with the fact that it was over and finally being able to breathe a sigh of relief after how emotionally and physically taxing the journey had been made for a very strange experience the forward couldn't have possibly prepared herself for. She didn't know what she wanted to do more, party or sleep — for days! "Oh no, baby horse, you're coming!" Her teammate, mentor, and current roommate insisted when Alex even so much as hinted at the idea. She knew she would ultimately end up going but damn was that bed calling her name. "Yeah, yeah," was all she replied with while giving the blonde a smirk Abby could only see through the younger girl's reflection in the mirror as she brushed out her damp hair after showering a little bit earlier to get all the beer and champagne from the celebration in the locker room out of her hair. One of Alex's favorite part about being on the USWNT was how completely badass all the women were and how they could go from being a sweaty mess on the pitch to looking like a million dollars at the drop of a hat. Everyone looked stunning, dressed to the nines as they rolled up to the five star Vancouver rooftop bar that promised to be the perfect backdrop to a crazy evening. She was only on her second French martini when she heard some ruckus going on by the entrance, a man's voice cheering them on but she barely paid it half a mind as she was too busy being amused by Kelley challenging one of the bartenders to a game of beer pong. Only she could somehow finesse her way into getting him to push two tables together and craft the perfect makeshift set up. The defender would go on and on about how she could take out all the guys at the frat parties she went to back in college and now was her time to shine to prove (mostly to herself) that she still had it. Alex only stayed because she somehow got roped into being Kelley's partner while Chaney paired with the bartender. She wanted a chill night, no competitions, but when faced with one there was no way she was going to back down, she WAS Alex Morgan after all. To no surprise they won the first round and in a desperate attempt to get out of playing the second she grabbed their teammate Sidney who just happened to be walking by. "You play, I need to pee," was her lame excuse but at least it worked. It was that time of night where everyone was still on their way to getting drunk so no one was too crazy yet but Alex knew the line would be crossed very soon and she was making bets in her mind on who would be the first to get there as she waited for the bartender from the bar at the other end of the place to make her drink. "Oh —" was her original reaction to being bumped, bringing her mind back from wherever it had managed to go off to. An eyebrow cocked at his words as she tried but failed to let the smirk take over her features. "How very generous of you to offer to pay for me at an open bar," the striker chuckled playfully. It took her a moment in the dim lighting but she finally recognized him and while it was a nice surprise she had no idea how he managed to get himself here, to this party of all places but she figured he was Canadian and must be a fan or something. Who was going to say no to letting Sidney Crosby in the door? He was probably even more of a big deal here then in the states so it made sense, at least in her mind. "Thank you, though... for the sentiment anyway." Her hand was soon occupied by her martini glass and she wasted no time in taking a sip. "So tell me, what's the great Sidney Crosby's poison of choice?"

Sidney For those who knew him, Sidney Crosby was a bit of an anomaly. Unlike most who’d come up through the usual college/junior league pipeline at such a young age to only later be spat out by either the league or themselves for ‘poor’ behaviour choices, the twenty-eight-year-old had remained tied to his past and the straight and narrow upbringing that had come along with it. A lot of journalists had it pinned down to growing up in Nova Scotia, where the population never quite teetered pass 30,000. Or even his father—who’d had his own history with the league. What they all eventually worked out though was Sidney just wasn’t what they’d expected him to be. Young, talented … sure… but the guy that was also going to give them all some sort of titillating headline… no. What Sidney was… was hockey. There wasn’t a moment on or off the ice he wasn’t thinking or breathing hockey. So, when he’d been forced into a bit of a set-up by a couple of friends and met Kathy… things had unexpectedly taken a turn for the young brunette. It was just… one minute there was a hockey and then there was… hockey and her and it had been a lot. His sister Taylor had told him ‘that’s love,’ which was pretty weird because he was almost certain it wasn’t love… at least not yet, but she’d always been a little weird. A comment that had earned him a hit by one of his mother’s handstitched patch work pillows… thanks Taylor. It had taken Sidney a whole year to work out that she was probably right. The words escaping him one night across the dinner table while the two had been picking olives out of a garden salad the two had just ordered with a family size pizza. His stomach had done something that someone less logical might’ve compared to a somersault when Kathy eyes had widened, and her hand had found his neck and pulled him towards her… and for a moment there Sidney had honestly thought that would be it. That would be everything he’d ever need in life, Kathy and hockey… but as the years started to go by and his friends, teammates and family started to expand their families, Sidney realised he wanted more. Kids had never really been a topic of discussion for the two… they’d been young and busy and maybe it was wrong to assume that Kathy would just want them whenever he did. First, she’d pointed out that they weren’t even married yet... which Sidney hadn’t quite got, because wasn’t that all implied with the question? That marriage was part of the package too. Which had really upset her, because after nearly nine years this was how he was going to propose. It was all down here from there and before Sidney even realised what had happened it was just hockey and no Kathy again. There had been a few attempts to make amends and even a couple of goes at trying again... but in the end it was over. All nine years of it. Which is a lot in numbers. One hundred and eight months, four hundred and sixty-nine weeks, three thousand and eighty-five days… it’s a lot and despite Geno and Kris’ best efforts to cheer him up, Sidney was still not-quite feeling it… At least until he found himself next to FIFA World Cup champion Alex Morgan and suddenly there was something to smile about, because right of course the bar was an open one tonight… despite it… Sidney leaned forward, getting the barkeeper’s attention and ordering whatever Alex appeared to be drinking tonight… his hand reaching into his pocket to pull out a twenty and slipping it into the ‘tip jar.’ A smile on his face as he let it fall out of his fingers… “drink bought…” Her question had him debating a little. He’d originally slid up ready to order ‘just’ a beer, but now that he was here and consciously aware that this was a celebration, he settled with a whiskey straight, “what did you have me pegged as? An Apple Martini kind of guy?” He knew a lot of shit got talked about him. He was emotional… passionate... which had its critics. Some of it got to him… most of it didn’t. “What’s got you so hooked on those…” Whatever she was drinking gave off a fruity aroma. Definitely not something he’d usually drink, but the night was a warm one and something about the whole thing was mildly tempting… though thinking about it, if Gino saw him drinking up some pink cocktail… he’d never live it down. He could hear the Russian’s loud laughs echoing across the patio, but where the giant’s exact location was amongst everyone else was still a mystery… besides Sidney wasn’t exactly thinking of leaving his spot at the bar anytime soon. Though, maybe he’d trapped Alex here with his lame gesture to ‘buy’ her drink and all these questions about fruit cocktails when where all she really wanted to be was out there with her teammates on the makeshift dance floor. “Hey, sorry… if you need to go…”

Alex The brunette tilted her head in gratitude with a smile once the second drink was on the bar in front of her and the twenty had fallen into the tip jar. She didn't really know how to take it but she figured just accepting it and not making a big deal was the best way to go. Alex sat there, taking another sip of her martini, silently berating the butterflies in her stomach that she hadn't felt if not since college then honestly, never. She was married, newly, freshly married, the instantaneous spark and magnetism to the man next to her was completely inappropriate and yet there she was taking a step closer to him, closing what seemed to be too big of a gap for two people engaged in conversation. She had never been one to stray from any relationship but especially not the one she was eight years deep and now fully committed to. The striker had gone through what felt like everything with Servando by her side; He saw her career grow from the very beginning of when she started to become a big deal in college. He spent countless nights helping her study before a big test or running drills before a big game. It was easy to do life with him, she enjoyed it, but even at their most passionate she never felt that SPARK everyone talked about and chalked it up to being nothing but superficial and fictional anyway. Love was about friendship, the kind of bond you didn't want to let go of, (right?) and Servando fulfilled those requirements to a T. Alex had her passion and it was soccer, in her mind that's really all she needed, finding that in a man had never been a priority. "Are you making fun of my martini?" she teased after he mocked being an apple martini kind of guy. "No... whiskey. You have yet to surprise me, Crosby." Even she could barely recognize the flirty tone in her voice, which caused yet another sip of her drink. Hopefully he'd just think she was eager to celebrate her win, not that she was someone who drank her alcohol a bit too fast. "Oh, these? My sister got me hooked on them a few years ago, they're great for when you're out and want to pace yourself but still have something delicious. I was tempted to stick to the champagne but I refuse to be the first one wasted and miss out on all the amusement of watching everyone else get there first." The soccer player laughed a little at her own words. Her eyes scanned the crowd for a moment before her green-blue hues were right back on him. "No, don't worry. You're actually saving me from a very grueling game of beer pong. Kel's over there trying to relive her glory days. I think your friend might've taken over the poor bartender's spot." This team was nothing if not a good time, she was sure he would discover that in no time. "Not your thing either? Or am I the one keeping you? Either way..." Alex sat her glass back down on the bar and carefully slid it over in his direction, "you're not getting away without trying it." Her head motioned to the drink waiting to see if he would take the bait.

Sidney He laughed at her accusation. His hand lifting up in apology as he took a sip from his glass, only lowering it once she’d pointed out just how unoriginal he was for his own drink of choice tonight. It was weird but he was slightly mad at himself now, for not going against the grain earlier and ordering one of whatever she was having. Somehow ‘surprising’ Alex Morgan seemed appealing right now. Which was weird because he’d only been standing there beside her for less than ten minutes and it seemed strange to care so much about something like that… He supposed it had been years since he’d slid up next to a pretty girl at a bar and allowed himself to look… and it wasn’t even like he was doing that, right? Right. It was just— he was at a party (somewhat uninvited) and he was being friendly. That’s what this was. “Sorry to disappoint…” his smile twitched up as he watched her start talking about the drink her fingers were currently wrapped around. He heard a few buzz words that would’ve allowed him to stitch together a proper reply if she’d expected it once she was finished, but really, he’d just been watching her talk and get excited about something like a drink and he couldn’t help but think it was all kind of cute really. Here was ‘the’ Alex Morgan the girl he’d just watched own it on the soccer pitch and here she also was rambling about some drink she’d come accustom to ordering… yeah, champagne has a way of getting you to do some pretty outrageous things too…” he thought about the first time he’d filled the Stanley cup with it and drunk more than he’d ever had in his life. That had been a night. His head getting cloudy just thinking about it—though maybe that was less about the champagne and more about the fact that Alex had just said that he, Sidney Crosby, was saving the USA superstar from some game of beer pong? He looked across to where she’d mentioned it was going on... seeing not just Gino, but Kris there and two teammates from Alex’s team on either side of them and the table… of course. The twenty-eight-year-old was about as interested in the commotion happening over there as he was in the weather back home in Nova Scotia… turning his attention back to Alex instead and smiling when she passed her drink along the bar towards him. It didn’t have to travel very far, somehow without even realising he’d been doing it, he’d closed a lot of the previous space that had once existed between them… “well since you’ve had a few drinks now… I know you’re not secretly moonlighting as a Philly fan with the goal to poison me tonight, so…” he scooped it up. The glass dwarfing in his hands as he did… “mmm…” he could’ve avoided the lipstick and drank from the other side, but instead he stuck his mouth on top and took his sip. The hit was instant. The fruity taste covering most of his tongue, but the hint of her lipstick was there too… “yeah, so that’s not too bad…” he lowered the glass, sliding it back over towards her, before doing the same with his own glass… “your turn.” The thing about whiskey if you got the expensive stuff the taste had different notes to it. Something Alex might not have realised and something he decided to add to convince her, “I’m sure you’ve tried whiskey, but this one… this one is really good…” The thing was, he was pretty sure he just wanted her to drink from his glass in order to leave that tell-tale sign of lipstick behind that went ahead and reminded him with every next sip he had coming his way that she’d been there… which was insane. He knew that. He wasn’t crazy. He just… didn’t care.

#( Alex & Sid: 001. )

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knifeshoeoreofight · 5 years

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Bettman’s face scrunches in displeasure like a late-season crabapple. “My lord, I have to admit, this seems… unlikely. And if it is not so-”

“The banns are being read this Sunday,” Sidney interjects, desperate to get Bettman to take his leave.

“I...see,” Bettman says peevishly. “Well. You understand that I will be monitoring the situation very closely. Not that your lordship would ever stoop to something as low as a sham marriage-”

“Once again, you offend,” Sidney barks, pointedly leaving off the ‘sir’. “If you have no further business on my land, I must insist you leave at once. We have urgent matters to attend to.”

Bettman looks as if he’d just bitten into a lemon, but he bows his head with a oily “good day, your lordship” and raps sharply on the roof of the carriage to his driver.

As the carriage pulls away, Sidney slumps. Good god.

“Oh, my lord!” It’s the old woman. Mrs. Briar, Sidney remembers. She has tears in her eyes, to Sid’s momentary alarm. But then she takes Sid’s free hand in both of her gnarled, wrinkled ones and pats it.

“I was just thinkin’ the other day, what a shame our Lord Crosby hasn’t got a lovely wife or a handsome husband yet. Faith, I’m glad you’ve found someone. Every since you were a wee lad, you’ve never been one for bein’ alone. Used to follow me ‘an the other servants around like a duckling when I still worked up at the great house, my dear.”

Sidney feels his face flush. “I- thank you Mrs. Briar.” There is a murmured chorus of congratulations from the assembled people.

Face still burning, Sidney clears his throat, and starts delegating the necessary tasks. The roofs of the other cottages still need guarding, the doctor must be fetched. Provision must be made for the family whose cottage burned- who they will stay with, and such. Sidney promises to have a hamper with extra food sent round from the Ydhyn Dhu kitchens.

Through it all, Evgeni says nothing, just keeps hold of Sidney’s arm, watching the proceedings with a face like stone.

“You must take your young man home,” tsks Mrs. Briar. “After his heroics. Let him have a good rest. Take care of him proper, like.” Then, horrifyingly, she winks.

Sidney takes Evgeni back to Cole.

“Are you burned anywhere?” he asks. Evgeni’s hair smells a little singed, but not badly. “I will tell the doctor to see to you after he has taken care of the babe.”

Evgeni shakes his head, slow. “Just arms, little bit. Not bad.”

Sidney takes a look, and he can see some red patches on Evgeni’s forearms, the hair singed off. They will most likely blister.

“We’ll have that seen to,” Sidney promises. Evgeni still isn’t making eye contact and it’s frightening Sid. “Evgeni?”

He raises his face, and he looks afraid. Sidney’s heart sinks.

“I...I’m sorry, Evgeni. In the moment I couldn’t think of any other way to save you.”

“He want to hang me,” Evgeni says. He’s still trembling. “I see in his face. He’s kill me and smile.“

Maybe what Sidney has done hasn’t sunk in through Evgeni’s shock. Once problem at a time, then.

“I won’t let him,” Sidney says. “This, I swear.” There is too much feeling in his voice, even for the vow that this is.

Evgeni nods, and sags against Cole like a marionette with its strings cut.

“Let’s get you home,” Sidney says. “The doctor can come there after easily enough. Come.”

Evgeni lets himself be helped into the saddle, and Sidney stays on foot, taking hold of Cole’s bridle to begin the careful walk back to the great house.

***

Once there, they are met by a flurry of worried servants. Sidney dispatches several to go help in the village, and directs one of the kitchen maids to tell Dumoulin to prepare food to be sent down, after he has prepared a strong cup of tea for Evgeni.

He sits Evgeni down and makes him drink an entire cup of very strong, sweet tea. Mrs. Bullano bustles in with some salve she says she swears by and gently spreads it on the burns on Evgeni’s arms, scolding him all the while about foolhardiness, the quaver in her voice betraying her worry.

Sidney leans on the mantle, looking into the banked coals and seeing instead the thatch falling in burning clumps to the cottage floor.

Fire and water. Evgeni has now had miraculous escapes from both.

When he turns to comment on this, Evgeni is staring at him, the sweet tea and the healing salve soothing his nerves and pain enough that he appears to finally be realizing the fullness of what has just transpired.

“Мой господин!” he exclaims, sitting bolt upright, the blanket that Mrs. Bullano had draped about his shoulders sliding to the floor. “What— “

Sidney swallows. “Ah, yes. Well. It would be the easiest way to make you untouchable. Beyond reproach.”

Evgeni waves his hand, as if Sidney’s words are so many spiderwebs to be swept away. “господин, what you say, no one would believe.”

Sidney looks out at the garden beyond the windows. “They would if...the banns were to be read this Sunday, as I said they would be. If we really did marry.”

Evgeni’s chair squeals against the floor in protest as he leaps to his feet. Sidney takes a step back in alarm. Evgeni’s hands are balled into fists.

“You can’t do this,” he says, eyes stormy and dark. “What the other Господин say? This would be worst thing for you, it’s bad, terrible— ” He shakes a fist in frustration at the word not coming to him.

“Scandal?” Sidney volunteers. He shrugs. “I don’t care about scandal. And I’m a peer of the realm,” Sidney says. “I can do as I please.”

Realizing how that must sound to Evgeni, he amends his words. “Your word, alone, can stop me. Say no and I will try to find some other avenue to keep you safe. Smuggle you out of the country, perhaps. There has to be some way.”

Evgeni runs his hands through his hair, tugging at it with a groan of frustration. “And, what? Even if you lord, get in trouble for that.”

“We’ll say you disappeared, if you want to go that route.”

Evgeni looks bleakly at Sid. “Why. Why do this? Why help me like this? Too much.”

Sidney looks at him for a long moment. “Because I was the one who found you on the beach, half-drowned, lips blue and barely breathing. Because I took you under my protection and I see that as a promise as solemn as vows. Because you have proven yourself a good and honorable man and I will not have the death of a good and honorable man on my conscience. Because you asked me if you could stay, and because you seem so happy here. Because the folk here already love you. Because--”

He stops speaking before he disgraces himself.

Evgeni stares at him, eyes wide and mouth fallen softly open. He makes an inarticulate noise and grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes. He takes a few shuddering breaths, and when he lowers his hands again, his eyes are reddened and wet.

“Don’t want to be hanged,” he says softly. “Or go to prison. Or leave— leave this place.”

Sidney nods. He walks over to him. Evgeni is standing before the window and the clear light of a perfect Cornish winter afternoon haloes him like an icon in a church.

Sidney bends down on one knee and takes Evgeni’s hand.

“Evgeni Vladimirovich,” he says. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

Evgeni nods like a man in a dream. “Yes,” he murmurs. Sidney takes his hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles, mirroring the gesture Evgeni had so undone him with before.

Evgeni breathes in sharply, but does not speak, as Sidney rises to his feet and takes his other hand as well. Even now, there is a cold knot of guilt festering in his stomach, but he smiles at Evgeni and strokes his thumbs over the back of Evgeni’s hands in an effort to soothe his rabbiting pulse.

“I will do my best,” Sidney promises. “To make you happy.”

Evgeni shakes his head, with a strange, hitching laugh. “Crazy.” He takes a deep breath, then releases it, some of the tension going out of his shoulders.

“Me too, мой гос— ” he pauses, uncertain.

“Sidney, call me Sidney.”

“Sidney,” Evgeni says, and the sound of his Christian name on Evgeni’s lips is almost more than Sidney can bear.

“I’m promise, try to make you happy too,” Evgeni tells him.

He leans down, and soft as butterfly wings, brushes a kiss across Sidney’s forehead.

Part 6

#meurgerys #sidgeno #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #hockey rpf #dana writes a thing

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hockeybabe87 · 5 years

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Sidney Crosby - Insecure

You crawled into the large bed as you pulled the dark colored comforter over your weak body. You were so over today, nothing went right and then to make matters worse; you did the unthinkable. You checked the Instagram comments of a picture you posted with Sidney. You knew it was a bad idea from the moment you did it, Sidney tried to stop you from posting the picture in the first place, but you wanted the world to know he was yours. The comments were horrible, but you should have known. You didn’t look like a typical WAG, your stomach was softer, your thighs were a little chubbier and you had a few more stretch marks on your body than you cared for, but you tried not to let it bother you. As you scrolled through the comments, tears welled up in your eyes.

“Why is Sidney dating her?”

“Doesn’t he know he could do so much better?”

“She’s nothing like his ex-girlfriends…I don’t understand”

You loved Sidney so much, but you always knew deep in your mind he deserved better than you. He deserved to be dating a super model type like the rest of the guys. He deserved a girl who wasn’t embarrassed of her own body.

Suddenly, you heard the alarm system downstairs kick off, signaling Sidney had come home from practice. You buried yourself further into the blankets, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

“Y/N?” Sid called, obviously looking for you.

The sound of his voice caused your blood to run cold and the tears to return to your eyes. You didn’t want to face him right now, you couldn’t, not with all of this stuff being said on Instagram. You knew Sidney obviously hadn’t seen it, but it didn’t change the fact that you agreed with everything that was said. You were broken inside.

“Y/N?” Sidney called again as he walked down the hallway.

He could see the bedroom door was cracked open and he slowly walked towards it before opening it to see you lying in bed.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through your hair.

You didn’t say anything, not trusting your voice enough in that moment as the lump in the back of your throat grew. Sidney laid down next to you and pulled you into his chest and kissed your forehead. He ran a hand up and down your back as he kissed your lips and forehead occasionally.

“Please tell me what’s wrong?” He asked again.

You sighed, you were feeling a lot calmer after lying with Sid for that short time. You didn’t say anything as you reached over and picked up your phone. You opened Instagram to the picture and clicked on the comments before handing the phone to Sidney. He took it from you and began scrolling. His eyes grew wide every time he read a new comment about you. He was upset, but he also knew that it didn’t matter what you looked like, you were going to get hate no matter what.

“None of this matters.” He said as he locked your phone and set it down on the night stand.

“All that matters is that I love you and I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.” He said before he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“But why Sidney?” You snapped causing Sid to look at you in confusion.

“Why are you dating me? I don’t understand how you can love me! I don’t look like the other girlfriends; I’m not skinny or tall or beautiful like them!” You snapped.

“Do you really believe that?” Sidney said quickly, leaving you silent.

“Do you really believe that you’re not just as beautiful as the rest of the girls? Y/N, you’re the prettiest one in the whole group! And your weight doesn’t matter, I don’t care that you’re not as skinny as the rest of them, as long as you’re healthy then I’m happy.” He said. You looked up at him through your lashes as tears began to prick your eyes again.

“Baby, please don’t ever question my love for you. You are the love of my life, I’ve been in love with you from the moment I first saw you and nothing has changed in regards to that. I’m so desperately in love with you and I wish you could see that because if you did then you’d realize you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” He said as he kissed your forehead.

Tears were streaming down your face now as you took in Sidney’s words. He wrapped his strong arms around you and pulled you against his chest and kissed your forehead and cheeks over and over again. You were surrounded by his love and you felt so safe and taken care of.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too Sid.” You replied.

“I’m sorry.” You added.

He shook his head and shh’d you.

“Don’t be sorry sweetheart. I just want to make sure you’re happy.” He said as he squeezed you tight.

“Can we nap?” You asked causing Sid to chuckle.

“Anything you want babe.” He said kissing your lips causing you to smile.

You rearranged yourself against Sidney before you finally laid down comfortably with his arms secure around your waist. You drifted off to sleep in the arms of a man that loved every single part of you and you were so blissfully happy.

#sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #plus size hockey imagine #pittsburgh penguins #pittsburgh penguins imagine #hockey writing #hockey imagines #nhl imagines

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fanforthefics · 5 years

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Number 6 for Sid/Geno for the AU prompts please!

We hooked up randomly at a party once and it turns out you’re friends with my brother AU

Geno spots him at maybe the most awkward time he could–that is, as Geno turns to watch the bride walk down the aisle.

He legitimately thinks he’s hallucinating at first. It makes more sense for him to have some sort of best man-related breakdown than for Sidney Crosby to be sitting in a pew in the back of the church. He can only see a bit of profile and the twist of his shoulders, because Sid’s looking at the bride too, but Geno’s pretty sure–even if he’d never admit it–that he could pick Sidney’s shoulders out of a line up.

It’s that very disbelief that convinces him he’s not hallucinating. If his mind was playing tricks on him, it would do it more believably than Sidney Crosby at his brother’s wedding.

Which leaves him with the conclusion that Sidney Crosby is at Denis Malkin’s wedding. Which leaves Geno reeling as the ceremony begins, trying to steal looks at him out of the corner of the eye. Once the ceremony really gets going, he gets distracted–Denis and his fiancee have the dreamy-eyed looks of two people desperately in love, and Geno’s enough of a romantic that he likes to see it, for his brother. And maybe he tears up a little, there’s no shame in that.

But then they’re all recessing and Geno sees him again, smiling softly at the bride and groom, all–jaw and eyes and then those eyes catch on Geno and they widen too, like he only just noticed. Geno drags his gaze away.

Then there’s a whirlwind of pictures and getting everyone to the reception, and Geno’s in charge of his grandparents, who don’t really speak English and who are definitely still not pleased that the wedding’s happening in the US, and not Russia, even if Denis has lived in the US since high school. They are reluctantly charmed by the wedding, though, and Geno tries to keep that going as they drive to the reception.

Then they get to the reception and–Sidney’s still there, chatting with some of Denis’s other friends. It’s not even like he’s awkward; he’s chatting and shooting the shit and it’s clear at least some of them know who he is but they aren’t making a deal out of it and neither is he. It’s a far cry from the last time Geno had seen Sidney at a party, awkward and hovering and laughing a little too loudly and sticking close to his teammates and clearly having no idea what to do at a college party.

Then again, that was…ten years ago, now. Sidney’s definitely grown up in the past ten years.

Geno grabs Denis as soon as he appears back in the room. “Why is Sidney Crosby here?” he demands under his breath.

His brother’s eyebrows go up. “Because I invited him?”

“What?” Geno’s breath hisses out. “How do you know him? Why did you never say?”

“Sometimes the school works with the team, we got to know each other.” Denis shrugs. He can’t look away from his new wife. “Why should I have told you?”

“Because–because–” Geno stammers. What is he supposed to say to that? It should be obvious. He knows he hasn’t been around since graduation, that he moved away for work and only just came back, but–still. “Because he’s the best hockey player in the world!” Geno finally settles on. That’s an acceptable reason.

No one knows the other reason. No one other than Geno and Sid, and the memories Geno sometimes dwells on, of Sid pressed against the bathroom wall, of his eager mouth and that fucking ass under Geno’s hands. They’d barely been more than kids then, and neither of them had been totally sober, but Geno could still remember it.

“Are you going to be weird?” Denis asks, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t be weird. I know he’s famous or whatever, but he’s here as my friend, so don’t be–”

“I’m not weird,” Geno retorts. “I won’t be weird.”

“Okay.” Denis visibly decides not to take that bait. “I’m going to go back to my lovely wife–” he grins at the word, like he can’t keep it in; if Geno weren’t a little annoyed at him he would find it very cute– “And you should find a bridesmaid to dance with before mom comes calling. One son down, you know.”

“Not until you give her grandkids,” Geno retorts, and Denis laughs and heads over to his wife, who he sweeps off her feet and into a kiss.

That leaves Geno to–figure out what to do. Which, he thinks, is just avoid Crosby. Sidney. Sid, Geno always thinks of him despite himself, when he sees him playing his heartbreakingly gorgeous hockey on TV, in an arena; the Sid who had smiled so openly at Geno, who had laughed at his jokes like he meant it. Sid who was a–a dream, a mostly unbelievable moment in time.

He manages to do the wedding thing–to dance with relatives, friends, people he just met; to make his best man toast and drink champagne–for most of the night, but then he’s at the bar and there’s someone next to him and he doesn’t need to look over to know who it is. Sid fills rooms. He had at 19, and he does now.

He also doesn’t know what to say. He thinks, in these situations, the more famous person should talk first. He also, if he remembers correctly, thinks he can wait him out.

Sure enough, “So we should probably talk about the elephant in the room,” Sid says, turning to Geno. Up close, he’s somehow more handsome than he is on TV close ups. At 20, he’d been boyishly pretty, still with his baby fat lingering and a body that didn’t seem to know all its edges. Now, he’s grown into that body, and carries it with all the confidence it deserves; now he fits his jaw and his eyes and his cheekbones.

Geno gets himself back together, and snorts. “No beating around the bush, then?”

Sid smiles, a little sheepishly. “I felt like that would be even more awkward,” he says. “We can do small talk, if you want.”

“No, it’s good.” Geno grins back at him. He’d forgotten this too, somehow; how easy Sid is. Or maybe that’s new, the easygoing way he has with people. “But, um. What is there to say?”

Sid glances to the side, then takes a sip, then, “Thanks, mainly.” He glances up at Geno, through those ridiculous eyelashes. “For not telling anyone about it.”

“Of course I didn’t tell,” Geno scoffs. “I’m not a monster. Did you think I would?”

Sid’s smile turns more cynical than Geno wants to see. “I had some…problems, after that,” he says evenly. “Nothing that wasn’t dealt with, obviously, but I wasn’t smart about it, back then.”

“What, now you ask for NDAs?” Geno jokes, but when Sid just keeps looking at him, his eyebrows go up. “Really? You think you’re that famous?”

Sid chuckles. “Better safe than sorry, eh?”

“Sure, if you’re a rock star,” Geno retorts, and Sid flushes and giggles a little. It’s as cute as it was at 20. Probably more. “Also, if people are dicks.”

“Some are.” Sid shrugs. “I got lucky you weren’t.”

“Or you have good taste,” Geno says, and gets a laugh out of Sid.

It’s easy, from there, to go to what Geno’s been doing for the last ten years; Sid keeps the conversation away from him for as long as he can, and Geno only realizes after he manages to get Sid talking about hockey and it’s been going on for ten minutes that it’s because Sid knew this was going to happen. That sort of self-awareness is charming in its own way, and anyway, Geno likes to talk about hockey. He likes listening to Sid think about hockey, in the same way he might like watching an artist paint; watching someone do what they’re good at is a joy of its own. He remembers that too, how Sid had babbled; how interesting that babble had been.

It means he doesn’t move away, even when his drink is done; he orders another one and prompts Sid with another question. Sid’s lips quirk like he gets what he did, but he lets him; he takes a drink and then licks the liquid off his lips, watching Geno. Geno watches back.

“Zhenya!” the cry comes from one of his younger cousins, who comes up to him. She keeps going in Russian. “Zhenya, can you dance with me? Or can you order me a drink? Or–” she cuts off, then her eyes go bigger. “Is that Sidney Crosby?”

“Privyet,” Sid says, in badly accented but passable Russian. “Menya zovut Sidney Crosby. Chto tvoye?” The girl’s eyes go wide. Geno raises his eyebrows at Sid.

Sid shrugs. “I play with a lot of Russian guys. They sometimes teach me things other than swear words.”

“I am Anastasia,” Anya says, in careful English. “It is nice to meet you.” She smiles at him, looking all fourteen of her years. “You want to dance?”

Geno opens his mouth to get Sid off the hook, but Sid’s laughing and sliding off his stool. “I’d love to,” he says, and holds out his hand. Anya takes it, glowing, and drags Sid off.

Geno watches as Sid dances with Anya, laughing and good spirited, then he’s handed off to another cousin, and another, and then the boys corner him and start peppering him with questions that have Sid laughing at first, then he’s diagramming something that looks like it involves the centerpiece, various utensils, and some very broken Russian and English. Geno can’t help smiling. This is the part that he also remembers–that Sid’s just a good guy. That Geno likes him, plenty.

It gets to be enough, eventually, that Geno gets up, gets another of the whiskey Sid was drinking, then goes over to where Sid’s explaining, patiently, his power play strategy. “Okay, I’m borrowing him now,” Geno announces, coming up next to him. He maybe leans a little close to Sid in the process, but it’s definitely an appropriate distance. He can just…feel Sid’s warmth too. He changes to Russian. “Leave him alone, he has better things to do.”

“No, he hasn’t signed an autograph!” Kolya complains, and Sidney laughs.

“I can do that.” He reaches for a place card, flips it over, and pulls a sharpie out of his jacket pocket.

“You understood that?” Geno asks.

“I understood autograph,” Sid replies. His lips curve up. “Maybe I am that famous.” Geno laughs, Sid grins like he’s proud. “And you don’t have to save me, I’m fine.”

“Maybe I want an autograph,” Geno throws back, and Sid chuckles before he finishes signing things for the kids and lets Geno herd him away, back to the bar.

Maybe Geno monopolizes him a little for the rest of the night, but he thinks he’s excused, and he lets other people talk to him too. He just. Likes hanging out with Sidney. It’s another dream of a moment, another thing to tuck away and remember when he sees Sid on TV. For 2 evenings, he had something special with Sid.

“Okay, I should get home, I have practice tomorrow.” Sid sets down his last drink.

“You good to drive?” Geno asks. He’s drunker than Sid; it’s not angling for Geno to drive him home. To drive him home, and then maybe Sid would invite him in for a night cap, and then…

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sid stands up. So does Geno, even if he doesn’t have a reason to leave–he’s pretty sure his mom will get mad if he leaves before it’s over. Still, he trails after Sid as he says good-bye to Denis and his wife–Geno gets a pointed look from his brother than he ignores–and then to the door of the venue.

“I had a good time tonight,” Sid says frankly, a little surprised. “Tell Denis thank you for inviting me, when he’s thinking about anything else.”

“I will.” Geno shifts. Sid’s lit in the soft streetlights, now; somehow it’s even better. “Good luck on Monday.”

“Thanks.” Sid smiles, arrogant but quickly hidden, like he doesn’t need luck but he’s not going to ever say it.

Geno doesn’t want this to end. Geno doesn’t want him to go away into the moonlight again and have him disappear. “Hey.” Geno’s hand is on his arm. It’s…quite an arm. “Do you want to get dinner sometime? Or drinks?”

Sid grins, and it’s like the sun breaking over the horizon; it’s the same smile Geno had seen ten years ago and had inspired him to lean down and just kiss him. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Have to prove that not all people need NDAs,” Geno goes on, and Sidney laughs.

“We’ll see.” He pulls out the marker again, then pats at his pockets until he comes out with the wedding program, scribbles something on it. “Here. Call me, we’ll set it up.”

“A Sidney Crosby autograph, I’m so honored,” he teases, and Sid laughs again, flushing a little. Geno wants him to do that all the time.

“As long as you use it.”

“I will,” Geno promises. His hand slides down to Sid’s wrist. Sid’s looking up at him, and Geno wonders–but they aren’t 20 and stupid anymore, and Sid still has reasons for his secrets, and Geno wants more than a fleeting moment.

So he lets his hand drop, and Sid’s still smiling at him, wry and pleased and self-deprecating. “Good.” he says, and then he squeezes Geno’s hand, once, and heads down the stairs. Geno definitely does watch him go, because his ass deserves it. Sid glances back at the bottom of the stairs, definitely catches Geno; Geno grins back, unrepentant. Sid rolls his eyes, lifts a hand in a wave, then he really does go.

Geno waits a second, then heads back into the wedding. It’s his brother’s night, but he thinks he came out of it pretty well.

#pens tumblr fic #my fic #i wanted to do one of these that really focused on the brother's friend thing #also famous/not famous aus because i always love those!#Anonymous #izzy answers

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roseate7 · 5 years

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Any words of consolation about what’s probably going to happen tonight? It hurts so much and it hasn’t even happened yet. You seem to have good perspective and I could use some.

I’ll answer this one because it’s very sweet and must’ve come in right before I switched anon off.

I can very easily and confidently say to you that this indeed shall pass, because unlike many a swift rout in which a team and fanbase must cast about in bewilderment for what went wrong, the enemy has shown himself and it is within. For all that the superstars were gassed with overwork by the time the playoffs arrived, and for all that the eventual lineup were too bewildered to pull out a cohesive performance by the end, the man responsible for all of this - and I mean all - is Jim Rutherford.

A lot of folks understandably held out on my level of bolshiness toward him this year, but from day one of this playoffs series the truth of the entire season’s mess and muddle and hasty plastering-over had shown itself in rapidly coming undone beneath playoffs pressure. And he’d done the same botched jobs before in Carolina.

I know most folks don’t agree with me on this point especially but the Hags trade set the tone of Rutherford losing the team’s confidence in him entirely. The bulk of the work was done then. His “point was made” but the point was both a misfire and an eventual backfire. But whatever difficulties the Pens had at the start of the season, we only ever got to see them just beginning to repair the longer the team got to bond and gel… only for trigger-happy-trader Jim to come and throw it all into disarray again.

There’s no way of ever knowing which of the trades were truly any better because there was no time the crucial identity to be formed with any of them. He lucked the fuck out with the Florida trade, but what good are two solid players in isolation on a disjointed team they barely know and may not even stay with past the summer? Where is the hunger and fight for them? To lift a Cup with men they’ve known a matter of months? They’re not Black Aces, they’re key players who felt rushed in and did their best which is honestly a waste of talent in the end. Certainly no way to form that team identity. All it did was help keep the Pens on life support.

That’s the theme of Rutherford losing this season: what good are solid players in isolation? Do they make a defense? Do they create goals? Do they give his superstars space to work while leaving the speed up to the younger and lighter, or even just faster…. oh yeah those are all gone. So, no. No they don’t. They add up to a first round sweep and have done ever since the late fall.

It might seem like strange comfort to know that the season was ultimately jeapordized by a man who we can only see the back of if pressure mounts outside and in, but ironically when you look at all of the good that he has wasted in either neglect or over-work, it is reassurance.

Because it’s very good to know that the Pens have a core on the other side of thirty who are hitting and breaking franchise and league records and are still able to overcome major mid-season injury and reignite the team’s playoffs hopes. They’re not the Hawks or the Kings. Their core leave ample cap space in their salaries and more importantly, the problems aren’t scattered all over the locker room and the coaching and the management. It’s down to one man getting into a job using more talented colleagues and then reverting to type once left to his own devices. Hell, even Sully being out-coached wouldn’t have led to a first round exit if the team had formed the kind of identity and drive that it should have. 87/71 can lead a motley crew of a roster to the second round just fine, so long as they can get to know them before March.

And 87/71 being what they are - an isolated and rare organism - and having veteran status, none of the past two seasons will be allowed to remain when they return to Pittsburgh in the fall. They’ve proven how fearless they are in doing what is right for their team and that they’ll run up against any level of front office to fight for glory again. Hell, just look at Geno’s post-games after tonight! He is already planning on the upturn of all they’ve settled into that doesn’t work. I truly do not think Rutherford has the clout, especially after these past two years on his own, to stand up to what those two want. They’ve got the ear of the owners far more than he has. I doubt he’ll be gotten rid of, but his workload could easily become much ‘lighter’ and the purse strings taken out of his hands.

From my hockey perspective, this exit honestly feels like a logical turn in direction for a team who have needed to be wrestled out of the jaws of victory rather than the other way round for most of one dynasty. The years between 2009 and 2016 were such twists and turns, and they’ve all faded into normal and natural lows and suffering that happen to absolutely every club - especially to ones who have had success so frequently. The past two seasons aren’t at all unusual for a much older club whose legs have largely never bounced back from a gruelling back-to-back and an unbroken succession of playoff appearances.

All of Rutherford’s botched work needs to be either undone or removed. I’m sorry folks, I know it’s extremely unlikely and most don’t agree with me but getting Hags back would restore heart and identity to a team that couldn’t bear to have lost it in the first place. But even if not him, then a team assembled and left to actually find itself next season. I’m also not convinced that dropping Horny makes sense, it feels way too much like the overly-reactionary trades of the entire season and yet more loss of identity. Bringing in youth and speed is doable without disintegrating the core even more. We all love Olli but he’s sadly become disposable (I don’t really know why) and I say it’s far wiser to shift a younger player who is already showing signs of slowing than a teammate who brings much needed heart to the locker room.

Anyway, all of this can be done. There is now time, room and with intelligence there can be money. Geno will rest and clear his head and be Russian and Miamian for a while, Sid will go off with trainers like last summer, and they’ll both return of one mind: to never, ever allow their ship to be steered so wildly off course ever again.

So when it comes to the pain, the bitterness, the feeling of desolation and confusion of tonight I really can promise you this will be a kinder loss in the long run. It didn’t drag on, it was against a team who had the jump and the desperation on the Pens, and there were no cruel twists of the knife to age-old wounds. The Isles were better and wanted the win more and they won. It’s clean, if still gutting.

I can say all of this because I was baptised by fire and blood into hockey. I saw Bloody Wednesday and I had seen the previous season’s lead-up to it, all of which is told best by Kris Draper himself. I saw hatred and cold-bloodedness and rage that transcended ‘just hockey’ between the Avs and Wings of those days. I can safely say that no one will ever experience transcendent agony and ecstasy of the like ever again because the sport is now more about... well, the sport, rather than the spectacle.

And as I soon realised, all that gnashing of teeth from the players represented the most pathetic side of a game that was already on it’s way to losing it’s audience precisely for a lack of substance. It all stopped being satisfying when the enforcers were no longer made invisible in their traumatized retirement and the gladiatorial was proven to be ultimately almost as fatal and cruel as the old coliseums. We all got sick of games halting for the latest wild man to do his bit and to have teams hoarding up talent in ways that even refs could tilt the balance in their favor so well. The rivalries are boring younger fans now that testosterone flare-ups no longer run the show, and instead look like weak distractions - or downright dangerous in ways that are no longer considered acceptable - from letting your hockey speak for itself.

And well, as Draper and Nick Lidstrom proved to me many years later when they both went belly-aching that a 21 year-old Sidney Crosby wasn’t prompt enough to shake Lidstrom’s hand after the 2009 final. I will always respect those guys as players, but hoo boy the irony of their childish sore loser attitude in calling Sid immature and unprofessional still looks terrible for two men who won four Cups in their time. Same with the fans and journalists who saw fit to bemoan this perceived slight from Sid due to nothing but sour grapes over the fair loss of yet another trophy to add to their groaning coffers. Especially targeting a kid charged with rescuing his sport and his franchise, who had returned to the Joe after a bitter disappointment the previous season, and at last gained the achievement that had been expected of him since he was between fourteen and sixteen.

For shame on two men I had witness do battle and perform so valiantly, even after some of the glory of their days had begun to tarnish, to gang up on a boy because their days of domination were fading. I still love those first seasons I watched, but I am glad the days are gone of two men knocking forty launching a PR campaign to damage the image of a kid only just realising the dream they had many times repeated themselves before he was even in the draft combine.

Why did I take that trip down memory lane, you could well ask if you’re still even reading this, anon???

Because while players like the 90s Red Wings represent the last of the old dynasties, the post-2004/5 lockout effects on hockey haven’t been felt in full effect really until the Penguins back-to-backs. You know, the team who won using speed and cohesion? The team who set the standard which all other teams were not-so-secretly rushing to copy? That was a core of existing champs who dictated their own identity and who had two leaders with their eyes wisely on the future-present style of hockey.

The Kings and Hawks days of glory had one foot very much in the past. They are both in different stages of trying to work out the puzzle of a league whose playing style has been flipped even more on it’s head in just the past three drafts. Forget McDavid: how does Mitch Marner weigh what he weighs and do what he does and bounce back up every time old-style defense tries to knock him down? How do you get more of those little nuggets of your own to find gaps and evade muscle and create chances? That’s the question the Pens already know they have to get back to answering as they had before.

But Jim Rutherford has fumbled his two years unsupervised, this is resoundingly true, and his old ‘grit and size’ tendencies are coming up against a Pens core who have far more knowledge of what it takes to return their team to being champions because they have seen the sea changes taking place in their franchise from day one.

Ol’ Jim’s can come and go. But Crosby and Malkin are neither petulant veterans who would moon about over their losses and angrily deflect onto the youngsters who beat them, nor are they superstars existing in a bubble and bemoaning the slow decline of their team after each short or non-existent post-season. Neither of them will mind handing over some depth work to speedier youngsters. Neither of them will mind adjusting their roles to accommodate the next generation of Pens, because it’s what they’ve been doing for a good few years now. No clashing of egos or sense of grudge over age and perceived superiority to stop these two from doing whatever it takes to keep the club on the right path.

The Pens will always have a shot at being champions so long as Sid and Geno are on the thrones in Pittsburgh. And the more they come into their age and embrace their sway over a franchise that knows it owes it’s existence to them both (even if fucking nobody else seems to remember that Geno’s throne sits in every way equal to Sid’s) the more chance there is for more Cups.

At the very least, and it’s still a wonderful least, seasons like this one will stand as nothing but a stark but isolated reminder of how close to disaster their ship has ever sailed.

I have absolutely no doubt that they know what to do in the wake of it, and I have no doubt that they would gladly fly in the face of front office if it meant a more harmonious locker room.

They’re two heroes who won’t complain about the young bucks coming in and the league changing around them, and trust me when I say Pens fans should take endless comfort in that, even in the toughest years. And the natural order of things in hockey absolutely dictates that you’ve gotta at least have some of those.

#inbox #lmao sorry for the fucking epic #wow do I talk a lot when it's late #Anonymous

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nomorelonelydays · 7 years

Text

Me at midnight to @honeycombhenry: So I want a sidgeno regency AU that reads like a storybook but also a Kate and Leopold vibe…with a dash of Nicholas Cage in The Family Man with the whole glimpse/final airport scene…but I also want time traveling and reincarnation and a lot of historical inaccuracies for the sake of CHEESY DRAMATIC ROMANCE.

Hence, this was born.

(4k, sfw cheese, warning for plot holes, no beta, and ooc…like really this is just a self-indulgent fic…and yes, Geno goes full rom com Nicolas cage in the ending scene without stealing the declaration of independence)

The master of the Malkin Estate falls in love with his valet on a rainy afternoon.

Sidney Crosby, fair-faced and kind, had revealed his love for snow and ice skating as he helped to dress Evgeni, and Evgeni had selfishly followed the curve of Sidney’s lips as he spoke of stories from his childhood, when he and his sister Taylor would get into all sorts of trouble with their wet boots leaving streaks all over the floorboards and rug. He loves rainy days, when Sidney would hold his umbrella as they go out on a walk, and once they are far enough out in the countryside, Evgeni would take the umbrella from Sidney and kiss his knuckles, saying, “My dear Sidney, please let me.” Evgeni wants to suck bruises on Sidney’s unmarred skin, a necklace of promises, but he holds himself back, if only barely. He learns that Sidney sends most of the money he makes back home to his parents and his sister, in the hopes that she can marry richly instead of becoming a governess, destined for loneliness and instability.

(The Crosbys were rumored to be rich, once, a long, long time ago. Now, not so much.)

Evgeni discovers that, later on, Sidney blushes a pretty shade of pink when Evgeni brushes back his curls to kiss down his face, from his forehead, to his nose, then finally to his lips. He learns that Sidney is very poor at teasing, especially with his bare body pressed close against Evgeni’s and his breath shuddering against Evgeni’s jaw like the beating of wings.

Evgeni’s favorite moment is in the early morning, even before the first bird has started to crow outside, when Sidney brushes Evgeni’s hair back with his fingers as he reads from one of Evgeni’s books. During those times, Evgeni pretends that Sidney is his husband, and that they’re sharing another fragile moment before day breaks. It’s very easy to envision, but Sidney has always made Evgeni believe that all things can be possible.

“Would you marry me, if we could?” Evgeni asks softly. Half of him hopes Sidney doesn’t hear, the other half aches for Sidney to kiss a thousand ‘yes’ into his skin.

Sidney strokes Evgeni’s cheek with his thumb. The lamplight is dim, and he can’t quite make out Sidney’s expression.

“Sleep, my dear Zhenya,” Sidney says. “It is very late.”

“Stay with me,” Evgeni murmurs. “Stay.”

“I will,” Sidney says, and blows out the candle.

Sidney disappears without warning one unbearably warm summer.

“Sidney has terminated his contract with the Malkin family, effective immediately,” the butler informs Evgeni, as he dresses Evgeni for the day.

“I should visit him then,” Evgeni says, furrowing his brows. “Why was I not informed?”

“It was a very sudden decision,” the butler says, and lowers his voice. “He has told me to lie and say that he has taken ill, but in truth, he is going to home to marry this year per his family’s wishes. There’s no helping etiquette from poor breeding. Nevertheless, the staff wishes him well and hopes he will be very happy with a Miss Kingsley from Jameston. An excellent match, if I dare say.” The butler steps back and asks politely, “Will you ride today, sir?”

“No,” Evgeni says, his heart crumbling.

“Very well, sir,” the butler says, and retreats.

Evgeni has always hated summer.

It’s unseasonably warm.

Two months in, and the weather seems to take a turn for the worse. Last summer, Sidney had taken him out to the shores and looked for seashells. This year, Evgeni stays in and stews in his own misery, angry with Sidney for leaving without so much a word, and angry with himself for being so big a coward that he dares not visit Sidney, much less write him a letter, for fear of seeing him happily married.

“There’s a storm brewing tonight,” the housekeeper tells the maid as she worriedly out the window into the gloom. “I do hope it passes quickly.”

“Do you think it will thunder?” the maid asks meekly. She’s relatively new to the Malkin Estate, hired two weeks before Sidney had left, and very easily frightened by the vastness of the house and the world. “Lightning I don’t mind as much, but thunder…” She sighs. “Remember that story Sidney used to tell when the younger ones would get scared? They’d cling to him as if he were their mother—”

“Lightning is far more dangerous. It had better not strike anywhere near the house,” the butler says sternly. “Go back to your positions. We certainly don’t pay you to loiter.”

Evgeni sleeps fitfully that night. There’s a snap and a crackle, as if lightening had struck the roof of the house, but Evgeni doesn’t wake to check.

There’s something tickling Evgeni’s nose.

He opens his eyes, and finds that the room seems brighter than it usually is, and in a different shade as well.

“Stop moving around,” a voice—Sidney’s voice—says. The body clinging to him snuggles closer, his curls messy and very much in Evgeni’s face.

Evgeni doesn’t dare to breathe for a moment.

“Sidney,” he whispers. His heart almost beats out of his chest. “Sidney, how are you here?”

“I know, right?” Sidney mutters. “I’m not going out with Flower and Tanger anymore. Those two think they’re still twenty.”

Evgeni understands about thirty percent of the sentence. He clutches Sidney’s shoulders and kisses his forehead to his shoulders, desperately, frantically, and oh, Sidney is so blessedly solid underneath him, it’s not a dream—he hardly realizes that he’s not even in the Malkin Estate until after a good five minutes feeling Sidney’s skin under his lips.

“Why’d you stop?” Sidney asks.

“Where—where am I?”

“Well,” Sidney says. “In bed, with me, first of all. ‘Where you will be’ is a more important question.”

Sidney combs Evgeni’s hair with his fingers, and loses himself in the sensation before slurring out lazily, “Where will I be?”

“That creepy historical manor you said you never wanted to go to because you said it freaked you out,” Sidney says in a rush. “I told Sofia we could all go as a family.”

“The where?” Evgeni echoes.

“The one with the farm and your last name. Malkin Estates.” Sidney wraps his legs around Evgeni’s waist and coaxes, “It’s for Sofia, so she’ll have something to write about for school. Come on, please?”

Evgeni’s so lost in the feeling of Sidney so close to him that he very much belatedly asks, “Who is Sofia?”

Sidney doesn’t even have a chance to respond before the pattering of tiny feet down the hallway and knocking interrupts his thought.

“Daddy,” the voices beyond the door scream in glee. “Daddy, Papa, Daddy! Good morning! Field trip! Field trip! Field trip!”

Sidney sighs, kissing Evgeni’s cheek briefly before untangling himself. “I’ll go get the little one ready. You can handle breakfast for those two, right?”

Sidney rolls out of bed and throws on a shirt whose style Evgeni has never seen before, opening the door and letting in two children run in and hop immediately onto the bed. He smiles briefly at Evgeni before going off, leaving Evgeni with two little girls climbing over his legs and arms.

“I want Fruity Pebbles, Papa,” the blonde one says, then twists her leg and rolls to the other side of the bed. “Sofia, ow, you stepped on me!”

“Sorry. I want toaster waffles,” the other one, Sofia, says.

“What is a toaster?” Evgeni asks incredulously. His mind is still whirling around the fact that one of them had called him Papa, and Sidney, Daddy.

Of course, he doesn’t get an answer.

Breakfast is a disaster. Evgeni doesn’t know how anything works in this hallucination—as wonderful as it is—of his, and the more he asked the children questions like, “What is a microwave?” the more they laughed, “Stop messing around, Papa!”

“What’s Papa up to, hm?”

Evgeni turns around from the mess of cereal (which is apparently dehydrated corn flakes in multiple colors) and milk splashes to see Sidney cradling a chubby toddler who is currently sucking at his fist.

“Sidney,” Evgeni says again, for the third time this morning, because the sight of Sidney looking rumpled and soft holding a child is too much for Evgeni to bear.

“Say ‘Good morning, Papa!’” Sidney says, bouncing the babe in his arms. “‘Good morning!’”

The baby blows spit bubbles at Evgeni; it’s the best thing Evgeni has ever seen. Sidney shrugs. “He’s doing his best.”

Evgeni steps closer, touching the soft tuft of hair on the baby’s head and marveling. “Hello, dear one,” Evgeni says, transfixed. “Look at how beautiful you are.”

“Why are you talking like that?” Sidney asks.

“Like what?”

“Like you swallowed a Jane Austen novel.” Sidney settles the baby into his seat. “Have you been watching those movies again?”

“I don’t understand—”

“Papa is Mr. Darcy!” the one that’s not Sofia—Alexandra, Evgeni had garnered, exclaims.

“I’m not being Miss Bennet, if that’s what you’re trying to get at,” Sidney says peevishly, pressing some buttons on the silver contraption that Evgeni had given up on figuring out after a few minutes, as he slides his mug underneath. “And you didn’t make eggs either. Were you waiting for the chef to come around?”

“Where is the chef?” Evgeni wondered aloud.

Sidney shoves the pan in his hands. “For today? The chart says it’s you. Good luck.”

Evgeni’s eggs are ugly and overdone. Sidney and the girls smother them with condiment from a bottle labeled ‘Heinz Tomato Ketchup’ and eat them after a few light teasing. Evgeni knows then that wherever he is, in whatever life he’s living right now, he’s living it with Sidney, and they have three wonderful children. The matching gold ring on Sidney’s finger must mean that they had married, and Evgeni’s heart feels close to bursting whenever he thinks of it.

“What are you so happy about? We’re going to the ‘nightmare castle,’ or whatever it is you keep calling it,” Sidney asks, sipping at his coffee. He looks like an angel.

Evgeni will willingly walk into twenty nightmare castles if it means he can relive this exact moment, again and again and again, until the hole in his heart from Sidney’s departure is temporarily healed by his own imagination.

It’s sprinkling a little bit when they leave the car—not a carriage, Evgeni reminds himself. He’s not sure if he’s traveled forward in time (according to the car radio, very much forward in time), or if this is another lifetime in another universe entirely. He doesn’t think too much during the ride, just concentrates on Sidney’s quiet humming and the children in the back babbling among themselves about which is better, until they ask Evgeni to be a tie-breaker on whether ghosts are scarier than vampires.

He almost doesn’t recognize the familiar road leading him to his home, almost untouched by time or weather.

“We should’ve brought more umbrellas,” Sidney says, flashing a look at Evgeni that reminds him so much of his own Sidney. He flips through the brochure. “There’s 16 acres of land here, and a private rose garden, Ali would love that. I hope the rain lets up soon.”

Evgeni buckles the baby boy into the stroller easily enough after a few moments of maneuvering. Alexandra and Sofia run ahead, pointing at the trees and the fountains ahead that Evgeni would often visit while entertaining guests.

“This place is nearly 200 years old,” Sidney says in awe, admiring an old antique clock in the hallway adorned with a sign that said ‘Do not touch.’ “Can you imagine living here?”

Yes, Evgeni thinks. He remembers the servants bustling around the floor, remembers Sidney coming down this exact staircase and exclaiming happily, ‘Master Malkin, you’ve returned early—‘

No, he mustn’t think of it, not now. Not when dream-Sidney is looking at him in that adoring manner. He’s afraid he will truly shatter, once and for all, by the time he wakes up from this.

After all, Evgeni Malkin had been a coward then, not daring to chase after Sidney and question him. Today is no different.

His family estate has apparently been donated by his descendants as a site of historical importance. There’s other families milling around the place, children gawking at what Evgeni assumes to be now obsolete objects in the kitchen, and volunteers leading tour groups as they tell the history of its past inhabitants.

“There is, of course, many stories about the people that lived in the Malkin Estate,” the docent, an elderly woman says. “For those of you who are into romance, one of the more popular ones deals with the young Evgeni Malkin, who lived in the 1800s. He was one of the earliest masters of the estate, rumored to have been in love with one of his servants.”

Evgeni’s heart stops cold, but Sidney pays him no mind as he reads the brochures and looks around at the paintings, some faded but still well-preserved from Evgeni’s time.

“The relationship wasn’t to be, however,” the docent continues, as if she hadn’t just stomped all over Evgeni’s body. “Evgeni eventually married a Miss Wickham, thought it has been said that it was an unhappy marriage. The Malkin Estate actually received a package a few years ago from an anonymous donor, containing hundreds of unsent letters that are supposedly from the servant that Evgeni was in love with, found in a locked box that had been unwittingly passed down as an heirloom, which we have on display in this wing, if you will follow me. Now, on your right is the—”

Evgeni stops listening. He parts from the group slowly and approaches the glass display, his hands trembling. The letters are pinned down, withered and nearly corrupt from age, but Evgeni can clearly see where the ink of Sidney’s words have been blurred by tearstains.

My dearest Zhenya, they all start, and all ending with, Yours eternally, S.

I must tell you the truth, one says. It had never been my idea to leave the well-loved halls of the Malkin Estate without leaving word. Benjamin, the butler—he saw us one morning. I was not careful enough. I’m sorry. You must know that he was very explicit in his threats, that I had led you astray. I could not let that happen. I wish nothing but a lifetime of happiness and comfort for you, though it pains me to admit that it cannot be with me to make that a reality.

This letter, along with the others, will never be sent, because I know you must be very happy with Miss Wickham, Mrs. Malkin by now. I’ll never know. I don’t want to know, perhaps. But you must know that I love you, dearly, and that if things were different, I’d never have left your side.

Yours eternally, S

Evgeni moves wordlessly on to the next one, scanning over each yellowed page as something awful starts to rise in his heart, eating him alive.

I told Benjamin to tell you that I had taken ill, but I ran into one of the maids the other day. Caroline, her name is. She cried when she saw me, Zhenya, I didn’t know what to say. She asked me where my wife is, and if she was healthy. I told her that I had no wife, but she was perplexed and informed me that Benjamin had said I’d gone home to marry. I was furious. And helpless. What could I have done? He would’ve exposed us all.

It might seem over the top for me to say, but I don’t think I shall love another as much as I do you to bear the thought of marriage. When you asked me to marry you, that one night, I should have been selfish. I should have said yes.

My answer is yes, still—

Another starts with, Taylor married today, into a well-regarded family. I’m very happy for her.

The other details the weather, and the mundanities of Sidney’s morning. You would’ve loved the bird I saw this morning. It was blue, with flecks of gold in his eyes.

The last one is short.

My dearest Zhenya,

This shall be my final letter. I have never stopped loving you, and I never will.

Yours eternally, Sidney.

“G, you feeling alright? Are you crying?” Sidney’s voice says, breaking Evgeni out of his trance. He’s rubbing Evgeni’s back soothingly. “We can go home, if you want.”

Evgeni looks at Sidney, at the husband who isn’t his, at the child who isn’t his son, prattling to be held by his Papa. At least in this lifetime, he knows, he can Sidney are happy together. He wipes his eyes roughly then braves a smile.

“I’m fine,” Evgeni says, kissing Sidney on his curls and holds his arms out for Sidney to pass the baby to him. “Let’s go find the girls.”

It’s thundering when they go back to the parking lot, with Sofia and Alexandra squealing out in excitement as they duck inside.

He reads Sofia a story about bears that night, and Sofia kisses his nose and murmurs a “Good night, Papa,” before snuggling with her toy giraffe under the covers. The house is quiet when Evgeni steps out in the hallway. Evgeni tries to be as gentle as possible as he heads back into the room that he and Sidney shared. He feels like he’s walking on air, as if each step he takes is feeling less tangible as it grows closer to midnight.

The rain is coming down furiously outside, and with a boom of thunder, Evgeni knows in his heart that he would be waking up back in the Malkin Estate tomorrow morning.

He sits down by Sidney’s side—Sidney is already half-asleep, curled into his blankets like a cat. He feels the dip in the mattress as Evgeni sits down and blinks blearily.

“Geno?” he says, his voice warm. It’s the nickname Evgeni knows to be one that this world’s Sidney had chosen for his husband, and there’s so much intent and love behind those words that it makes Evgeni’s head spin. “You tucked Sofia in?”

“Yes, I did,” Evgeni says, nuzzling Sidney’s nose before capturing his lips in a deep kiss.

“What was that for?” Sidney asks breathlessly, on the cusp of unconsciousness. “Come back to bed.”

“I will,” Evgeni says gently. He wants to memorize this moment. “I love you, Sidney.”

“Love you too,” Sidney says sleepily. Evgeni makes to move, but Sidney reaches out and grabs Evgeni’s shirt. “Don’t go. Stay with me.”

“I will,” Evgeni promises. “Go to sleep.”

The clock strikes midnight. Evgeni falls asleep next to his husband as it thunders on outside.

“It is morning, Sir,” the butler says, creaking the heavy wooden doors open. “I’ve received correspondence from the Wickham family asking if you would dine with them this eve—”

Evgeni opens his eyes. He would make things right this time.

“Benjamin,” Evgeni says, sliding off his bed and buttoning up his own shirt, ignoring the butler’s protests. “I’m going out to ride this morning. And when I return, if I see even a glimpse of your face on this property, if I hear anything from your mouth regarding your dismissal, I will find you. And I will ruin you.”

The butler stands there, coat in his grip, petrified, as Evgeni hurries down the staircase.

Sidney had once told Evgeni where he lived, just beyond the outskirts of town near the river. It’s a modest house that has seen better days, but even to Evgeni, who has never been physically there until this very moment, thinks that it feels very much like home.

He knows he must look a madman by the time someone answers the door, with his shirt probably done one button off and hair in terrible disarray.

“Sidney,” he gasps out, “Sidney, I’m so—”

It’s a woman who answers the door, and for a moment, he fears it to be Sidney’s wife until he recognizes the curve of her lips and the same, intense gaze.

“Taylor,” he says, then corrects himself immediately. “I apologize—Miss Crosby, is your brother home? I’m Evgeni Malkin, from—”

“From the estate, I know,” Taylor says, her expression unreadable. She makes no move to address Evgeni respectfully. “My brother isn’t here. He’s just left to visit his friend, Mr. Mackinnon, on the island. He won’t be back for a good while, I’m afraid.”

“No,” Evgeni says, shaking his head. “No, no, that can’t be—” He paces a bit, looking behind him as though Sidney may be hiding there. “Please, Miss Crosby, you must tell him that I visited, please—”

“He’s been heartsick ever since he left the estate, waiting for letters that never came,” Taylor says, not budging an inch. “I think a change of scenery will do him good.”

“Miss Crosby, please,” he begs. “I’ve been a fool, a terrible, terrible fool, I—”

Taylor’s face grows stormy as she lowers her voice. “Mr. Malkin, please tell me this: why should I help the man who broke my brother’s heart?“

“I—”

And from behind, as if by a god sent miracle, Sidney’s voice comes, subdued but still so familiar, "Taylor, I’ve come back. They say the weather is too poor for the ships to visit the island, so the trip’s been postponed until—” Evgeni whips around, just as Sidney looks up in astonishment, which quickly melts into shame. “Mr. Malkin.”

“Sidney,” Evgeni breathes. There Sidney was, still as beautiful as the day Evgeni last saw him. “My love.”

Sidney’s expression doesn’t change, but his ear reddens. “Do come inside, Mr. Malkin,” Sidney says quietly, not meeting Evgeni’s eyes. “I’m afraid my house isn’t as comfortable as the estate, but I hope–”

“It’s lovely,” Evgeni says. “It’s perfect.”

Sidney bites his bottom lip.

Taylor frowns, “Sid, you shouldn’t–”

“It shall be alright, Taylor,” Sidney says. “I’m just going to talk with Mr. Malkin for a little bit.”

Taylor gives Evgeni one last, lingering look, then turns the corner into another room.

Sidney looks at his hands. Neither speak for a long moment, unsure of how to start.

“I’ll make some tea,” Sidney says. “And pack some food for your trip back.”

“Back?” Evgeni repeats. “Sidney, I’m not going back without you.”

Sidney chuckles hollowly. “I don’t work for you anymore, Mr. Malkin.”

“Sid.” He grabs Sidney’s wrist and tugs him back. “Please, Sidney, look at me.”

“Please don’t make this more difficult for me,” Sidney says. “I wish you’d leave.”

“I know what Benjamin did,” Evgeni says. Sidney’s shoulders stiffen, and Evgeni knows he’s hit the nail on the head. “Please come back with me, Sidney.”

Sidney hesitates, but he pulls away after a brief moment. “It won’t work, Evgeni. Please wait here, I’ll just be a moment,” he says, and heads for the kitchen.

“Sidney!” Evgeni calls again, desperate. “Sidney, we have three children together. Three wonderful, talented, beautiful children.”

Sidney pauses.

“I saw them in a dream, and I know you must think me insane, but I’m not. It was so real, everything—there’s Sofia, she’s the oldest and shiest, but she’s kind and gentle. Alexandra—you call her Ali—she’s a little troublemaker, but she always needs you to read her a story, the one about elephants—before bed or she can’t sleep. And our son—he’s gorgeous, Sidney, he’s just turned one—”

“Zhenya,” Sidney says, brokenly. “Zhenya, it was just a dream. It can’t be.”

“It was real,” Evgeni insists, cupping Sidney’s face. “And perhaps we can’t have Sofia, or—or Ali or the baby in our lifetime, but we can be together, I’ve lived it. I know it. We can move away, be happy, finally.”

“I wish it were so,” Sidney replies thickly. Evgeni pulls him back into his arms, breathing him in, even as Sidney’s heart feels as if it’d been hurled across an entire ocean, and Evgeni is grasping at straws to fetch it back. “Oh, God, I wish—” He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. “Please, no more talk of this. I can’t bear it.”

“I read your letters,” Evgeni blurts.

“What?”

“The letters, you wrote me letters. I’ve read them,” Evgeni insists.

Sidney’s eyes are wide. “I don’t—I don’t understand, how did you—I never sent—”

“Because I have seen us,” Evgeni says, tilting Sidney’s chin up to face him. “You wrote that you should have been selfish that night, that you should have said yes when I asked you to marry me.”

Sidney’s looks like he’s struggling to breathe. “How could you have—”

“I’m asking again,” Evgeni says earnestly. He takes Sidney’s quivering hands with his own, unsteadily. Sidney’s hands are so warm. “Sidney, please, be selfish with me. Say you will marry me.”

Sidney doesn’t respond for a long moment, and Evgeni begins to fear that all has been lost until Sidney whispers, “Yes.”

“Yes?�� Evgeni echoes dumbly. “Yes, you’ll marry me?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” Sidney laughs wetly, wiping at his eyes. “Yes, Zhenya, yes, yes, yes—”

Evgeni picks Sidney up then, twirling him around and lets the same rush of joy wash over him like it did earlier, until he feels like he could drown.

Outside, the storm clouds grow fainter yet.

#sidgeno #regency au #time travel #reincarnation au #might post on ao3 if i clean it up a little #but i am tired now

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dollprose0-blog · 5 years

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Does Free Agent Status Matter Anymore?

I still hear and read the term “buying free agent years” when people discuss NHL contracts, but I’m not sure it is relevant anymore.

It is interesting to note that since a salary cap was put in place after the 2005 lockout, the salaries of NHL players has actually changed significantly. Players don’t have to wait until unrestricted free agency to get paid huge money.

In 2003/2004 only two players in the top-30 highest paid were under 28 years of age: Jarome Iginla and Joe Thornton. Iginla was in his eighth season and was ninth in salary at $8 million, while Joe Thornton was the 29th highest paid player at $5.5 million in his seventh season.

Only four other players were in their twenties, while 24 of the top-30 highest salaries were 30 years of age or older.

In 2005/2006, the first year out of the lockout, we saw immediate change in the distribution of salaries.

Nine players 27 years of age and younger were now in the top-30 in cap hit, and 12 were under the age of 30.

By 2010/2011 the NHL pay structure had swung in the favour of younger players.

Only 12 players in the top-30 cap hits were 30+ years of age.

The top-three paid players were Alex Ovechkin ($9.5m), Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin ($8.7m each). They were 24, 22 and 23 and all on their second contract. They were the elite scorers in the game, so it makes sense they got paid big money, but other young players who were good and just out of their entry-level contracts like Anze Kopitar and Nicklas Backstrom were 17th and 18th in cap hit, while Patrick Kane and Jonathan Toews were tied for 26th in cap hit at $6.3 million.

In the three previous seasons Ovechkin, Malkin and Crosby were first, second and third in total points, Backstrom was eighth, Kane 17th, Kopitar 20th and Toews 38th. Toews had just finished second in Selke voting, and the others were all-stars. There were two D-men in the top-15 in cap hit: Zdeno Chara (ninth) and Brian Campbell (11th), while Henrik Lundqvist was the top goalie (16th). There were a total of three goalies in the top-30 and seven D-men.

Fast forward to today and the NHL salary structure is poised to change once again, at least for forwards.

Currently, Connor McDavid and Auston Matthews are #1 and #2 in cap hit. Both are early into their second contracts. Jack Eichel (eighth) and Leon Draisaitl (23rd) are the only other players under 24. There are five D-men and two goalies in the top-30 cap hits.

But we are about to see a major influx of young players jump into the top-30, and likely the top-20.

Mitch Marner (94 points), Brayden Point (92), Mikko Rantanen (87), Sebastien Aho (83), Matthew Tkachuk (77) all finished in the top-31 in NHL scoring this year and will be 22 or 23 years young this season. Patrik Laine had a down season, by his standards, with 30-20-50, but over the past three seasons he is sixth in goals with 110 and trails only Matthews (111), McDavid and John Tavares (112), Nikita Kucherov (120) and Ovechkin (133). Laine will get a hefty raise, but I see him getting a bridge deal.

Jeff Skinner was a pending UFA and he signed an eight-year deal worth $72 million earlier this week. His $9 million cap hit is the 16th highest in the NHL. He had a career best 40 goals and 63 points last season. I think this was a desperate signing by the Sabres. They couldn’t afford to lose him, especially after how bad the Ryan O’Reilly trade looks less than a year later. Skinner is a good player, but he isn’t elite and has never produced more than 63 points, yet he makes $9 million a year.

Point had 41 goals and 92 points. Do you think his agent will want him taking less than Skinner? Can’t see why.

I think the days of buying UFA years are over for productive forwards. It used to be only the truly elite like Ovechkin, Crosby, Malkin got big money out of their ELC, but this summer that is going to change, and once that door opens it will be impossible for NHL GMs to close.

Apr 17, 2019; Toronto, Ontario, CAN; Toronto Maple Leafs forward Mitchell Marner (16) pursues the play against Boston Bruins in game four of the first round of the 2019 Stanley Cup Playoffs at Scotiabank Arena. Mandatory Credit: Dan Hamilton-USA TODAY Sports

I’d argue this is a good thing for teams. They will be locking up young players just entering their prime, instead of paying 27-30-year-olds big money. Your chances of having a young player not living up to his big contract are much lower than an older player. We have decades of data to prove what are the most productive years for the vast majority of NHL players, especially forwards, and it isn’t between the ages of 28-34.

I’m curious how teams and the agents will approach the signings.

Mitch Marner’s agent is looking for $10+ million/year contract, and if he gets it why wouldn’t Rantanen, Point or Aho command the same?

The past two seasons Marner has produced 48-115-163 in 164 games (.99 points per game), the 19th most points in NHL over that span. Rantanen has 60-111-171 in 155 games (1.10 PPG). 16th most points in NHL. Point has 73-85-158 in 161 games (0.98 PPG). 23rd most points in NHL. Aho has 59-89-148 in 160 games (0.94 PPG). 29th most points in NHL. Tkachuk has 58-68-126 in 148 games (0.85 PPG). 57th most points in NHL.

Then you look at some other stats courtesy of Corsica.

Player P/60 GF% CF% PDO Marner 2.43 56.7 51.9 102.5 Rantanen 2.12 57.6 51.9 101.9 Point 2.50 60.5 52.0 103.3 Aho 2.16 57.9 55.5 101.1 Tkachuk 1.99 51.5 57.0 98.2

You can look at PK ability, the fact Point is the only centre and the best goal scorer, and I don’t see how anyone can suggest Point isn’t worth as much, if not more than Marner. I see Rantanen in same boat as Marner. I think Aho is right there as well. He doesn’t have the elite linemates like the other three and still has great numbers. Tkachuk is slightly below, but his ability to draw penalties and antagonize adds to his value as well.

I don’t see any of them coming in under $8 million a year, which would tie them for 28th in AAV next season courtesy of PuckPedia.

It will be fascinating to see which one signs first. Will that set the bar? Point plays in Tampa Bay and tax implications could impact his AAV. He will be taxed less than the others, so will his cap hit reflect that? Other teammates in Tampa have taken a lower cap hit because of this.

Which team signs their top-end RFA first?

I’ve heard for years about an offer sheet, and who should/would make one, but we haven’t seen one since the Calgary Flames offered Ryan O’Reilly a two-year deal during the 2013 lockout shortened season. Colorado matched it.

Until I see one I won’t believe a team would do it, but here is the compensation chart if you are interested.

$1,395,053 or below: None $1,395,054-$2,113,716: 3rd round pick. $2,113,717-$4,227,437: 2nd round pick. $4,227,438-$6,341,152: 1st and 3rd round picks. $6,341,153-$8,454,871: 1st, 2nd and 3rd round picks. $8,454,872-$10,568,589: Two 1sts, one 2nd and one 3rd round picks. $10,568,590+: Four 1st round selections.

Offering $10.5 million makes the most sense as it only costs you two firsts, and one second and a third. However, I don’t see that being enough money to scare off any of those teams.

Would you want one of them at $12 million and sacrifice four first rounders? I can’t see it.

I think it is more realistic to see teams make an offer sheet on a middle six player on a team up against the cap.

Outside of these five young players, and Laine (who I think takes a bridge deal, which will still pay him at least $6 mill), there are some other good, young RFAs who are going to get big raises.

Timo Meier had 30 goals and 66 points. Kyle Connor had 34 goals and 66 points. What will the Canucks do with Brock Boeser (26-30-56 in 69 games)?

This will be the summer of the RFA, and despite Skinner having UFA status, I suspect at least four of these RFAs end up with a higher AAV this summer.

The younger players are getting more money early, and I don’t think the term “buying UFA years” carries the same cache it once did.

Source: https://oilersnation.com/2019/06/12/does-nhl-free-agent-status-matter-anymore/

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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thrashermaxey · 5 years

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Ramblings: The fallout from suspensions, key injuries, Hughes signs and more (Mar 11)

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Now available for pre-sale – the 13th annual Interactive Playoff Draft List. Pre-order it here. It will be released the Friday before the season ends. If you bought the Ultimate Fantasy Pack in the summer, this will be included in that purchase. It is not included in the Keeper Fantasy Pack.

When Troy Terry picked up three points on Friday he became the first Anaheim rookie to do it in back-to-back games. He was shut out on Sunday but now is the time to go all in on the youngster, who has transitioned to the pro game very quickly and I think will have a productive campaign next season. Even Sam Steel is one to look at as well.

As an aside, I was looking at Steel’s Frozen Pool page and then I went to search on Google for his DobberProspects’ page when I remembered – Frozen Pool now automatically links the two. So I went to Info/Analysis on Steel and sure enough, there was the link. Research made easier. Steel has 34 points in 41 AHL games while Terry has 41 in 41. The Ducks are in transition now, whether they admit it or not.

Invasion of the Finns: never before has the NHL seen four Finns tally 30 goals in the same season. The last time three did it was 2005-06 with Teemu Selanne, Olli Jokinen and Jere Lehtinen. Right now Sebastian Aho and Mikko Rantanen are there, with Patrik Laine and Aleksander Barkov knocking on the door with 29. The next international tournament (be it the World Cup or the Olympics) will be interesting, with this country really making strikes over the last decade.

Quinn Hughes has signed with Vancouver! If what I understand is correct, he can’t play 10 games or he will become eligible for Seattle expansion. However, I would put money on him playing nine games and burning the first year of his three-year entry deal. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made an impact quickly. The Canucks are desperate for a puck-moving defenseman. I posted my Top 200 Fantasy Prospect Forwards rankings Sunday and will have the Top 50 Fantasy Prospect Defensemen up for Tuesday. Hughes is No.2 on that list (there’s a sneak peek for you).

Now over to you, Dante Fabbro.

Vladimir Tarasenko missed Saturday’s game with a UBI and now word has come out that he will be “re-evaluated” in 10 days. That pretty much says to me that he’s gone for at least three weeks and this could be something even more serious. Line combinations on Saturday, his first game out, looked like this:

28.8%

O'REILLY,RYAN – SCHENN,BRAYDEN – SCHWARTZ,JADEN

21.2%

BOZAK,TYLER – MAROON,PAT – THOMAS,ROBERT

20.7%

SANFORD,ZACH – STEEN,ALEXANDER – SUNDQVIST,OSKAR

10.6%

BARBASHEV,IVAN – BLAIS,SAMMY – MACEACHERN,MACKENZIE

As for Jake Allen, he came off a shutout on March 7 and was put right back in there the very next game. I thought he played great Saturday, despite the OT loss – the Sharks dominated in the third and Allen was the reason it even went to overtime. Back-to-back Quality Stars for Allen and four out of his last five. The Blues really want to settle in on a goalie heading into the postseason, so Jordan Binnington (Winnington) will get the next start I’m sure – but he’ll be on a short leash. We’re closing in on the final 10 games and I feel like that will be the cutoff and one goalie will start eight of those 10.

Jakub Voracek has been suspended for two games for this hit:

{youtube}dub9ZwaR0gU{/youtube}

I’ve never seen a player get suspended for straightening up his back like that before and I have mixed thoughts on it. Yes, he saw him coming, but could that be explained away as trying to prevent getting pushed from behind? Did his elbow swing back and catch him? Could he have gotten out of the way? Just such a gray area. I guess if it was intentional and brutal it would have been five or more. Josh Bailey returned to the game.

Voracek played with Sean Couturier and Oskar Lindblom last game. Claude Giroux had been playing with JVR and Nolan Patrick. The line shuffling now will likely take Nolan Patrick off the Claude Giroux line and perhaps reunite Giroux with Couturier and Travis Konecny. But that’s purely a guess.

The news is crazy these last few days in terms of key guys missing time. Jack Eichel has also been suspended for two games for this hit to the head:

{youtube}vaTljDqCA-E{/youtube}

The initial Zadorov hit, while his shoulder missed the head – I think he planted his helmet on Eichel’s on purpose and he should have been suspended. Eichel’s suspension is cut and dried (unlike Voracek’s).

Samuel Montembeault, a goalie I have been a fan of for quite some time, now boasts a 2-0-1 record for the Panthers after starting two straight for them on the weekend. The team is playing well in front of him and he hasn’t been truly tested yet. But right now he is Florida’s best option in the pipeline and since this is a young team on the rise (yeah, I’ve said this for two years now but it’s gonna happen), this could end up being the perfect storm. Montembeault isn’t great, but he’s the team’s best at what could be the right time. The Cory Crawford, the Chris Osgood, or the Jordan Winnington.

Trading away Gustav Nyquist didn’t help Michael Rasmussen any. The rookie is still seeing nine minutes per game. They could be ruining him. I don’t like prospects who get stuck at nine minutes per game for an entire season. Rarely works out for them.

Jacob Trouba, a subject of the Top 10 list later Monday, saw 6:42 of PP time for the Jets on Sunday and came up empty. With Josh Morrissey and Dustin Byfuglien out, this is his time to show us a glimpse of what he can do.

While Trouba saw 6:42 on the power play alone, Jack Roslovic saw 6:45 of ice time, period. Roslovic, who is also a subject of the Top 10, had an assist in the contest.

After 19 consecutive games with a point, the mighty Bruins were stopped by the Penguins 4-2. Brad Marchand was minus-3.

Danton Heinen, who subbed in for David Pastrnak on the Marchand line, picked up two assists. He has 14 points in his last 16 games. He had 14 points in 39 games before that. Pastrnak is still out for another week.

With two points Sunday, Jake Guentzel has 53 in his last 51 games.

Jared McCann also had two points Sunday and he has eight in his last seven games. I remember poolies jumped on him really quickly when he surprisingly made the Canucks as a 19-year-old in 2015. He was rushed. The Stratford native (as am I) is now in his fourth NHL season, though he was mostly in the minors for one of them, so I consider this his third. He’s clicking with Sidney Crosby and Jake Guentzel. We’ve learned from Conor Sheary (and going further back – Colby Armstrong) that there is no guarantee with this plum placement when an entire summer disrupts the chemistry, I do have more confidence in McCann’s upside and pedigree than I had with Sheary. And ten times out of ten I would roll the dice on just the ‘chance’ that it continues on into next season.

The 3M line was at it big time for the Flames Sunday. Mikael Backlund, Matt Tkachuk and Michal Frolik combined for 11 points. For Frolik, the biggest beneficiary of this arrangement, he tallied four assists after having gone six games without a point.

After starting off with a bang, tallying 13 points in 11 games, Brandon Pirri has just three in his last 16 including a goal on Sunday against the Flames.

Goals in back-to-back games for Carl Grundstrom in his NHL debut for Los Angeles. The Kings picked up Grundstrom from the Leafs in the Jake Muzzin trade. He also dished out three Hits, though it seemed like more. He’s already drawing comparisons stylistically to Dustin Brown, and I suspect he can put up similar numbers at his peak (55-plus points, 250-plus hits). He didn’t look out of place and I think there is a spot waiting for him on the big club in the fall.

Read Grundstrom’s fantasy scouting profile and PNHLe graph here.

It’s as if signing the big contract has helped Jakob Silfverberg turn the corner. He now has points in five straight games, seven in that span. And that’s on a team that is really just not scoring. We know this song and dance already, though. Every year, without fail, in either the first or the second half he produces like a 70-point player but in the other half of that season he produces like a 20-point player. If only we could get an advanced heads up on which half will be which. With the GM coaching the team right now, I feel pretty comfortable with Silf continuing for the duration. Bob Murray needs to make his latest big signing look like a good one, and you can see it in Jakob’s minutes – both at ES and on the PP.

Frozen Tools update: A new stat has been added, as well as two new reports. The stat is PPPts/60 which, obviously, is a player’s power-play points rate if broken up into 60 minutes of PP time (to match the regular pts/60 stat). It gives us a great look at how effective players have been on the power play and in my case at least it helps me evaluate how a young offensive player is trending/developing.

Also, goalie home/away splits are in now. Just go to the Report Generator, select goalies, and one of the buttons is cleverly entitled “Goalie Home/Away”.

DobberProspects update: Each scouting profile not only has our upside and certainty ranking at the top, scouting observations in the middle and the Elite Prospects career stats at the bottom…but now it has Mason Black’s fun pNHLe chart at the bottom. It takes a player’s stats in a given league at a given age and averages it out against history, spitting out his NHL potential upside. This didn’t get up and perfected until middle of last week (though I had posted it in last Monday’s Ramblings).

See you next Monday.

from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-the-fallout-from-suspensions-key-injuries-hughes-signs-and-more-mar-11/

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silky-mitts-blogging-blog · 7 years

Text

The NHL: A Year in Review (Part 2)

Hello again, everybody. This part will focus on the NHL season as a whole. If you would like to see my analysis of the Bruins’ Season, please check out Part 1. I may mention a few Bruins points because some things have developed since I wrote the first part. But I’ll save that for the end. For now, let’s take a dive into this season as a whole.

League Leaders

Goals: There wasn’t much surprise when looking at the goal leaders this year. Once again Sidney Crosby scored the most goals.... wait, what? This. to me personally was one of the biggest surprises of the season. After Crosby’s past few seasons with concussions I thought he was washed up. I will begrudgingly admit that I was wrong. Something that I think is incredibly beneficial to the marketability of the sport of hockey was the amount of younger talent that was in the Top 10. Obviously there were the perennial 30+ goal scorers like Kane and Pacioretty, but the emergence of Connor McDavid, Patrik Laine, and Auston Matthews were somewhat surprising. Especially Laine and Matthews, who were both rookies this year. The NHL is desperately in need of more offense, and it looks that the next generation will easily provide it.

Points/Assists: Speaking of McDavid, this kid was advertised as the next Gretsky and those projections might actually come to fruition. This lost a bit of steam after he missed most of his rookie season in 2015-16 with a shoulder injury. Obviously there will never be another Gretsky, but this kid might be the next closest thing. I mean, the kid can’t take a picture with fans to save his life (I’m serious, look it up), but he can damn sure play hockey. He led the league in both points scored and assists. This would propel McDavid to win the both the Hart Trophy (League MVP) and the Ted Lindsay Award (League MVP as voted by the players. Imagine if he didn’t get injured in his rookie year? Not a bad season, if I do say so myself.

Goaltending Numbers: If we take a look at Goalies who had a nice year, leading the way are Sergei Bobrovsky and Braden Holtby. Holtby the most wins for a goalie in the season with 42(!) and the most shutouts with 9. I’m not a fan of Holtby, but that 42 win stat is VERY impressive. This means he started way more than half the games and continued to play at a high level for that whole time. Very Impressive indeed. Bobrovsky led the league in both save percentage (.931) and GAA with 2.06. Also impressive, but in all honesty, I think this season will be an outlier for Bobrovsky, just as his first Vezina season was in 2012-13. He’s decent, but he’s not THAT good. The two years he hasn’t won the Vezina he’s put up very pedestrian numbers at best. Ultimately, these stats brought home the Vezina for Bobrovsky.

Playoffs

This season’s playoffs were some of the best that I’ve personally seen. The only way it could have been better is if the Bruins won, but I digress. Every game was fought tooth and nail for one team to come out on top. I would have to do research but I would be willing to bet that the average margin of victory was less than 3 goals. There just weren’t a lot of lopsided victories. Not to mention that this playoffs broke the record for most overtime games in the first round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs ever with 18 games, which is insane.

The Penguins once again took the cup home after defeating the Nashville Predators in 6 games. They’re the first team to repeat since the Detroit Red Wings repeated in 1997 and 1998. I was honestly surprised. I thought they were porked as soon as I heard that Kris Letang was out for the playoffs after getting back surgery. They proved me wrong though, and captured their 5th cup in franchise history.

Just as a side note to wrap up here: Are the Capitals ever going to win a cup? I sure hope not. Watching them be a disappointment season after season, is very satisfying. There was a wide open lane for them to do this this year, as the roster was basically the best it was ever going to be, and their arch rival’s best defenseman was injured. Yet they fell short. Again. At this point there should be a choking hazard label on every Washington Capitals jersey.

Final Thoughts

This season was pretty awesome. From the young talent emerging, to the great month and a half of playoffs everyone got to watch, and also to the fact the Craig Anderson’s wife conquered cancer, this season was great. So I’m just gonna address two loose threads that didn’t really fit anywhere above. Can Sidney Crosby stop getting preferential treatment from the league? Christ almighty, the man chopped Mark Methot’s finger off with a slash, and he didn’t even get a fine. If you haven’t seen the video of Methot’s finger hanging off look it up, its gruesome. Crosby doesn’t even get slap on the wrist? Come on, man. (He also speared someone and didn’t get a fine for it either, but what do I know.) Then there’s the reemergence of the 1-3-1. Please, go away. PLEASE. I HATE the 1-3-1. It’s awful. It takes all of the flow out of the game, and I believe it covers up glaring holes that a team may have. If you look at roster comparisons between the Senators and all of their opponents (Bruins, Rangers, Penguins), they have a weaker team, in my opinion than all of those teams. Yet this stupid system allows them to have a shot. This stupid system makes the game borderline unwatchable. So please, for the love of God, go away 1-3-1. No one wants you here.

That’s basically it. I’ll probably do some sort of Bruins preview before the season. But until then I’ll see you in the next post, and thank you so much for reading.

P.S.- JIMMY HAYES GOT BOUGHT OUT LOL.

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fanforthefics · 5 years

Note

Hi could you please write #6 or #13 sidgeno from your prompt list

#6: We hooked up randomly at a party once and it turns out you’re friends with my brother AU

or? how about and:

#13: Helped you pick out clothes to wear on a date with someone else AU

“Hey, Kris,” Sid says, knocking on the door as he pushes it open. If Kris’s doing shit, he should have locked the door. “Can you--” He stops when he sees who’s sitting on the bed. “Hi, Geno.”

“Hi, Sid.” Geno raises a hand to wave. Sid looks at him for a second--he is, as always, irritatingly attractive in ways that Sid doesn’t let himself think about--then shakes his head. “Tanger go out to get beer for tournament, be back soon.”

“How soon?” Geno shrugs. Sid rolls his eyes. Of course his billet brother’s friend would have a similarly flexible relationships with time. “Like, get back in five minutes, or in an hour?”

“Not sure, he’s leave ten minutes ago?” Geno at least makes an apologetic face.

Sid groans. Of course Kris isn’t here when he needs him. “Fuck.”

Geno looks a little worried at that. “Why? Something wrong?”

“No, I just. Need to talk to him.”

Geno’s eyebrows have drawn together, and he’s standing up, looking legitimately concerned. “What’s wrong? Maybe I can help?”

“It’s nothing.” Nothing Sid’s admitting to anyone, anyway.

Geno crosses his arms, looking stubborn. He might not be Sid’s friend, particularly--he and Kris are friends because they’re apparently fun and cool and shit, and Sid is none of those things so he doesn’t hang out with them often. But Sid does know what Geno looks like when he looks stubborn.

He also knows that he can out-stubborn him, based on any number of video game tournaments. And also the thing they don’t talk about. But that doesn’t mean that he’s has time to.

“How do I look?” Sid opens up his arms. Geno’s face does a lot of complicated things, all at once.

“Um, good?" His cheeks are a little red, and he’s counter-productively just staring at Sid’s face. “You know I think--”

“Because,” Sid goes on, before he can finish that sentence and put them back in the realm of the thing they don’t talk about, “I have a date tonight. And I was hoping Kris could help me pick out an outfit.”

Geno’s face does a lot more complicated things. “A date,” he echoes. He’s not looking at Sid’s face anymore--now he’s looking at his lap. “With who?”

“Cal? From the rink?” Sid shrugs. “I don’t know if you know him, he works the food stand--”

“I know. Know he has crush on you, too. I’m just not know he ask you out.”

“Well, he did.” Sid drums his own fingers against his jeans, oddly defensive. He’s allowed to go on a date. He knows the jokes people make, about being hockey-sexual or whatever, but he can date people. He can have sex with people. Which Geno very well knows, even if they don’t talk about it.

“And you say yes,” Geno says, a statement not a question. Sid opens his mouth to reply to that, but before he can, Geno’s jumping to his feet. “Is okay, I’m here to help. Make sure you looked hottest for date.”

“No, that’s really okay--” Sid starts, but Geno’s herding him back, out of Kris’s room, towards his own. “I just wanted to know if this was okay, I don’t need--”

“Yes, you do,” Geno informs him. “This fine, but boring. Need something more interesting.”

“I really don’t think I do.” Sid looks down at himself. He’s wearing jeans and a dark button down shirt. He thinks he looks fine. “Also, if we’re judging interesting by your clothes...”

“You just wish you can pull off,” Geno retorts. Sid gives him his most skeptical look, because he really, really does not. “Fine, but at least my clothes fun.”

“Clothes aren’t supposed to be fun,” Sid mutters, but there’s no harm in letting Geno try, at least. He sits down on his bed to watch as Geno goes over to Sid’s closet to start fussing through it. It’s no different than what Kris would have done, if he were here, Sid justifies. It has nothing to do with having an excuse to watch Geno without it being weird.

Sid rejects one outfit Geno suggests because the shirt doesn’t fit--”Is whole point!” Geno counters, licking his lips and not quite able to look away from Sid’s chest--and another because he refuses to wear anything neon on a date-- “Boring.”

“I think this is fine,” Sid says, when Geno seems to be slowing down and is just muttering discontentedly to himself.

“No. Have to find most impressive thing, be sure to make him fall in love with you.” Geno’s half in Sid’s closet, so his voice is muffled.

“In love?” Sid asks. “We’re just going on a date.”

“In love,” Geno repeats, firmly. “Because you don’t date, so if you do, must be because he’s really special. Because you want him be in love with you.”

“Um.” Sid--doesn’t. Sid doesn’t really know Cal, other than he’s cute and asked Sid out, and Sid was feeling a little weird about how serious Kris and Cath were getting and so he’d said yes. “I mean, I like him?”

“Like?” Geno pulls himself out of the closet. Sid yanks his gaze up from Geno’s ass, guiltily. It’s a lot easier to focus when Geno’s glowering at him, anyway. “Just like?”

“He seems cool?

“So you just like him, and go out with him, but when I’m ask--” Geno cuts himself off, his eyes wide like he didn’t mean to say it.

But he did. He did say it, even though they don’t talk about it--don’t talk about getting drunk at a party Kris had dragged Sid to, about how much fun it had been, about how somehow they’d ended up together in some bedroom pawing inelegantly at each other. About how it hadn’t occurred to Sid until after, in the warm light of day and his hangover, that Geno was one of Kris’s best friends--Kris, who was notoriously possessive of his friends and his billet brother, and who really would punch someone--and that Geno was on the team and Sid couldn’t mess that up for just a hook up, no matter how cute and funny and into hockey Geno was.

But that was different. Geno hadn’t asked anything, when he came over the next day, he’d just mumbled something and hadn’t looked Sid in the eye at all and then started nodding when Sid explained his thoughts.

“That’s different,” Sid says. If they’re talking about it, he can say that.

Geno’s eyes are dark when he looks at Sid. “Why? I’m hotter than Cal.”

He’s not wrong. “Because--you’re on the team. And you’re Kris’s friend.” Geno mutters something in Russian that definitely includes Kris’s name, and sounds like the sort of thing someone who doesn’t live with him would say. “And,” Sid goes on, “it’d be complicated and it could mess up the team and--and you didn’t ask!” Sid ends, on more of a whine than he’d like.

“Yes, because you start saying date is bad idea immediately, and I’m think you not want to date, and is fine.” Geno’s still all thunderclouds and scowls and hot eyes. Sid shifts on the bed. “Not you not want to date me for stupid reasons.”

“They aren’t stupid, they’re--”

“Give me good reason not to date me,” Geno demands. He steps closer, looming a little. God, Sid’s into him looming.

Sid has a lot of good reasons. But-- “Because you never said you wanted to?” seems to be the best one. “Like, there’s a big difference between a drunk hook up and going out, and--”

“Sorry for shy!” Geno throws back. “Sorry you--Sidney Crosby, and I’m not think you’re interested and not want to push!”

“But you are interested.” Sid has a lot of reasons it’s a bad idea. But--if the team is okay, if Kris can get over it... He just likes Geno, and from what he can remember of hooking up it was really good, and there’s something addicting in how Geno’s looking at him now. “In more than just hooking up?”

Geno makes a low, frustrated noise, then he uncrosses his arms, takes a step forward, and cups Sid’s face. It’s a lead up to a hard, angry kiss--except Geno pauses before he does anything, his thumb running across Sid’s cheek. “Yes?” he asks, quiet. Hopeful.

Sid shivers. He knows he shouldn’t. Knows that this would be complicated, whatever Geno says or thinks. Knows that he has a date with another guy in half an hour.

And yet-- “Yes,” he says, and kisses Geno.

Sid barely remembers what it was like, that night at the party--they’d been drunk and laughing and sloppy and desperate, and if there was kissing it probably hadn’t been very good. But Sid feels this kiss down to his toes, from Geno’s lips and tongue and teeth and his hands so big on Sid’s face and Geno’s body when Sid presses closer, wanting more.

Then-- “Hey, Geno! Beer’s here!” comes Kris’s yell from downstairs, and they break apart, panting. Geno’s lips are swollen, a little, and his eyes are dark and wide as he stare at Sid, his hands still on Sid’s skin.

“Kris is back,” Sid says, because he feels like he needs to say something. Geno nods. “I can. Um. I can cancel my date.”

“Hey, G! Where are you? Sid, have you seen G?” Kris calls. His footsteps are nearing, coming up the stairs.

“No,” Geno murmurs, a low and hot rumble that vibrates through Sid, “No, you go on date. Go on date, and think about this.” He tugs Sid in, kisses him again, hard this time, dirty enough that it makes Sid want to ignore him, say screw it and screw everyone else and tug him down onto Sid’s bed. Then Geno’s gone, a breath away. “Then you come back.”

“Yeah,” Sid breathes, still dazed. Then what Geno says catches up to him. “Wait, no, G, that’s bullshit, I’ll cancel--”

“Up here!” Geno calls, letting go of Sid and smirking evilly. “I’m help Sid get ready for date.”

“You have a date?” Kris sticks his head in the door. “Since when? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I’m going to kill you, Sid mouths at Geno, who shrugs, his innocent face fooling no one. “Since a few days ago, and because I knew you’d make a deal about it.”

“Of course I would! A date. Sid the Kid, all grown up.” Kris wipes away a tear, then flicks his gaze over Sid. “You’re wearing that?”

“That’s what I say!” Geno declares as Sid snaps,

“What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s okay, I’ll find you something better,” Kris decides, and pushes past Geno to go to Sid’s closet.

“Yeah, Sid,” Geno agrees, from behind Kris. “We find you someone better for date.”

“Something,” Kris corrects idly, still pawing through Sid’s closet.

“Yes, something,” Geno agrees, smirking smugly at Sid. Sid glares, then sits back down on the bed. His lips are still tingling.

#pens tumblr fic #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #my fic #pens fic #does the set up for this make sense?#who knows #i wanted to combine the prompts #also sorry tanger i feel like he got a little OOC here #alas plot demands #enjoy!#Anonymous #izzy answers

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fanforthefics · 6 years

Note

Please can I have sid Geno as an actor/celebrity au?

1) Sid is the classic child star gone right story. He probably won his first Oscar at like 10, but he never had the mental break–he just kept working, and kept making hits. Some people say it’s because he’s that steady and grounded. Other people say it’s because he’s a robot–he’s a great actor but he’s known for being the least interesting interview you can have, because he’s been so very media trained, though everyone who meets him also says he’s also always very nice. He also, of course, has a reputation for being hard to work with as a co-star or a director–he doesn’t pretend he’s not a perfectionist. But he keeps making good movies, sometimes even great ones, and the awards keep coming and so do the box office returns, and if he’s not the most interesting actor in the world he’s definitely a reliable one.

Which is why everyone’s surprised, when he takes the role as the leader in the newest superhero ensemble movie.

2) That everyone includes Geno. No one is more surprised than Geno, when he’s cast as the lancer/foil/eventual second in command to Sid’s leader. He’s basically unknown in Hollywood at this point–he made some Russian movies that were well received, but nothing that’s particularly made it into the US. But when he hears Sidney Crosby–whose career he’s watched with excitement and delight and competitiveness from an ocean away–is going to be in this movie, he throws everything he has into the audition. He needs to act with Sidney Crosby. He’s going to get this role. These are the things that Geno knows. He’s ready for Sidney to be exacting and difficult and bratty and all the things that he’s heard about, because it’s all going to be worth it to be in one of his movies and make it to those sorts of audience.

What he’s not ready for is to meet Sidney at their first table read, and for Sidney to stick out his hand like he’s been doing for all the rest of the cast, from the lowest to the highest–and the crew too, Geno later hears–and shake his hand heartily. And, while Geno’s still working on remembering English in the face of meeting him and the realization that he’s even more attractive in person, fuck, Sidney grins sheepishly. “I’m really excited to do this with you,” he says, a little bashful. “I’m a big fan–I’ve been watching all your movies. I mean, I don’t understand a lot of them, but you’re good enough that I don’t need to.”

Geno swallows his tongue. Then he just swallows, as he tries to figure out what to say. He actually does know how to speak English, and he’s been brushing up for this role. He just wasn’t prepared to speak English in the face of Sidney Crosby telling him he’s a fan of Geno. “Thanks,” he says at last, enunciating carefully. Sidney waits patiently. “I’m big fan too. Watch all your movies, from when I kid.”

Sidney gives another humble little shrug. “Oh, well,” he says, like that’s supposed to mean something. Then he straightens. “Do you want to get together sometime to flesh out our roles’ relationship?” he asks–or well, demands. “I was doing some research into military bonds, but I’m not sure that’s all there is between our characters–I’m thinking about playing mine…”

That, Geno thinks, trying desperately to follow along, is more what he was expecting.

3) Sidney tells the press he took this film to widen his range, to keep from being typecast, to reach more people. What he doesn’t tell the press is he took it because he’s been bored. It’s getting rote. He never thought it would–he loves acting more than anything, he’s devoted his life to it–but recently it’s been getting stale. His agent suggested he take a break–he doesn’t have to work again, money-wise–but that doesn’t compute with Sid. Instead, he found a role that will hopefully make him remember why he loves to act. That will make it fun again.

And–it does. Sid’s incapable of not throwing himself into a role 500%, and he does it this time too–his character’s fascinating, a combination of loyalty and PTSD and expediency that he relates to more than he wants–but it’s… it’s also reading comics in his trailer, with whoever else on the cast is around that day. It’s being dragged out to drinks with the rest of the cast. It’s being on a green screen and seeing himself fly.

It’s Geno listening to him talk about his character motivations and run lines with him and push him in every scene they have together. It’s Geno hanging around his trailer–”You have nicest trailer, make most money, have to put up with us take advantage”–and making space in his life and laughing at him when he stops to sign autographs and teasing Sid for how uncomfortable he seems, even now. Sid’s trying not to think about how much of how good this role is is because of Geno. Shooting friendships–or more–linger on, in Sid’s experience, but they’re never quite as intense. Sid’s learned to take them as they are, for as long as they are.

4) “Were they supposed to have so much…subtext?” an AD asks, watching Sid and Geno shoot a scene.

“They are now,” the director tells him. “Zoom in on six.”

5) Geno’s not really lying to himself. He never stood a chance against Sid. He was primed for a crush, given his longstanding appreciation of his work, but how was he supposed to stand up to the reality of it? He’s had unrequited crushes before, it’s fine. Sid keeps his private life so intensely private that Geno doesn’t know who he’s into, or if he’s into anyone at all. It’s probably better that way anyway. Geno does want to go back to Russia, to have a career in both countries, and if he were to do anything with Sid–Sid’s a household name. There’s no way Geno could keep it quiet. Geno’s not even sure he’d want to.

6) Sid is lying to himself. Sid’s had a few very quiet, very discrete, very easy relationships, which generally fizzled because of Sid’s schedule or because they didn’t want to be quiet and discrete. People don’t get it, generally–Sid’s kept his sanity because he’s kept such a tight control over what he gives other people. He’s seen what happens, to the celebrities who give too much and end up having nothing left for themselves. Sid can’t do that. Sid won’t do that. Sid guards himself jealously, because no one else is going to. And Geno–Geno who loves so loudly, who gives of himself so freely to everyone who passes, who has yet to really deal with the shitshow of US stardom though Sid knows he will as soon as this movie hits screens–Geno’s not made for Sid’s sort of love. So Sid lies to himself, and says he doesn’t care.

7) “Do you wanna know my secret?” Sid asks. It’s late, and they’re both a little drunk–they’d been running lines until they got too tired and the booze was brought out, and because Geno’s got a shirtless scene tomorrow they’re drinking hard alcohol instead of beer. So now they’re passing Geno’s flask back and forth, Geno slumped back on the couch and Sid sprawled over it, his head on Geno’s lap. Sid, Geno’s learned, doesn’t really have a conception of normal physical boundaries, raised as he was on movie sets and fans. Geno is very much not complaining. it means he has an excuse to run his fingers over Sid’s hair, tug a little at the curls.

“Secret for what?” he asks, amused. Sid’s definitely drunker than he is.

“For–staying sane. You’ll need it too,” Sid warns, and he blinks up at Geno. “When everyone wants a part of you, you’ll need to learn.”

“You think I’m gonna be famous?” Geno teases, and Sid grins.

“I know it,” he says. Geno can’t help preening at that. Then, “I sort of wish you wouldn’t.”

Geno stops preening. “Why? Can’t handle competition?” he demands, louder maybe than he has to to hide the hurt.

“No.” Sid smiles, and it’s sad. “I like you how you are. I don’t want you to lose that.”

“I won’t.”

“You will,” Sid tells him, with a sigh of long experience. “That’s why you can’t let anyone else know. Let anyone else see you. If people see you, they’ll ask for more and more until you’re all gone.”

It sounds sad, to Geno. “Sounds lonely,” he points out. Looks down at Sid, flushed and warm and so very human on the couch, and thinks of the image he has behind a camera.

Sid shrugs. “Better than the alternative, though.” He looks at Geno, very long, very deep. “I don’t know how to stay sane any other way, you know?”

Geno knows. Or no, he doesn’t, but–he gets what Sid is telling him. Gets it, and understands, sort of, even if his heart is breaking. “I know,” he says, and lets himself run his fingers through Sid’s hair one more time.

8) “So what was it like playing against Evegeni Malkin?” the reporter asks at the premier. "Was it a big change for you?”

Sid smiles, his perfectly crafted media smile. “It was great,” he says. “Geno’s one of the best actors I’ve had the privilege to work with. You’ll see once you see the movie–he’s going to blow you all away.”

“So are you looking forward to the sequel?” Sid looks over to where Geno’s holding court, the reporters laughing and smiling around him. Geno looks up, like he could sense Sid, and he grins and winks, clearly having the time of his life.

“Yes,” Sid says. “I’m looking forward to a long and successful partnership.”

9) It takes four movies, eight years, and a hefty AO3 pairing for both them and their characters, before Geno corners Sid again. It’s at the premiere party for the movie that’s going to end both their contracts, so they just watched the final movie. It’s been eight years of a successful partnership, and Geno figuring out how to deal with his new fame and understanding more where Sid was coming from, and eight years of Sid for the first time really wanting someone he can’t let himself have, and realizing what he’s been giving up.

And now–now they’re in a Hollywood garden, and they just watched a movie which ended with a shot Sid didn’t even really remember, with him resting his hand on Geno’s as they talked about the future.

“How you like movie?” Geno asks. His English is perfect when he wants it to be, by now; with Sid he doesn’t care. “Last one.”

“Yeah. It was good.” Sid always has critiques, of his performance and everyone else’s, but he also knows now isn’t the time to air those. “The ending wasn’t what I expected.”

“What you expect?” Geno asks. He leans over, looming into Sid’s space.

“I…” Sid shrugs. “That was a romance ending. But it wasn’t a love story.”

Geno takes a step closer, and he’s looking down at Sid as intent as he’s ever looked. “Wasn’t it?”

“Geno–” Sid starts, but Geno cuts him off.

“We do it your way for years, Sid. Maybe you were right then.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe,” Geno confirms. “But–it’s been long time.”

“And you’ve only gotten more famous. You get what I meant now.”

“Maybe.” Geno reaches out, takes Sid’s hand, and Sid lets him. “And I was right. it is lonely.”

“You never seemed lonely,” Sid bites back, then regrets it when Geno’s eyes glint.

“You looking?”

“That was never the question.” Sid meets Geno’s eyes, and this is a man who’s stood up to hordes of reporters and the most demanding of directors. “I can’t–I can’t be anyone who I’m not.” It’s the best way he can explain it. “And I don’t want you to be either.”

Geno rolls his eyes. “Is called compromise, Sid,” He tells him, and, like one of the romance heroes he’s occasionally played, brings Sid’s hand to his lips. “We superheroes, you not know? We can figure it out.”

And he grins at Sid, and it’s–Sid remembers what it feels like to fly. “Yeah,” Sid agrees, maybe not 100% convinced but getting there. “Maybe we can.”

#pens fic #my fic #this got away from me and the conflict did too #but celebrities! dealing with fame! superhero movies!#a lot of my interests tied up in onw #Anonymous #pens tumblr fic

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