#nhl negotiations

[losthoodie]

hockey off-season and baseball trade deadline being at the same time is terribly distressing

[bostonbakedbean90]

Don better pay the man!!!

[theemporium]

[22k] in attempt to bridge the decades old rivalry between the two gangs, a marriage of alliance is proposed between the new jersey devils and the new york rangers. the last thing you expected was to find yourself offered on a silver platter to your enemies. and you certainly didn't expect your future husband to be the likes of the devils leader himself, nico hischier.

new jersey mob masterlist || nhl mob masterlist

warning: this is a mob au. topics and themes such as violence, blood, murder and gun use are prevalent and constant throughout the fic. please keep that in mind if you choose to proceed with this fic and the whole series.

read part two here

.

“You know I would never question your authority—”

“It sounds like you’re about to question it.” 

“Are you really sure this is a good idea?” 

The footsteps echoing through the long corridor came to an abrupt stop as Nico stopped walking. The second set stopped shortly after, and he turned to find his second-in-command already looking at him with a mixed expression. It made him sigh, pushing back the meeting they were currently walking to to the back of his mind as he turned to his closest friend and confidante. 

The same man he had chosen to stand beside him in this lifestyle of theirs without a moment of hesitation because he knew no one would have his back the way Jesper Bratt did.

“Would there even be a point if I said no? It’s not like we can back out now,” Nico pointed out, and he watched Jesper’s shoulders slump a little like he was expecting that answer.

Jesper gritted his teeth. “I just don’t understand why you are doing this.”

“It’s for an alliance, Jesper, we’ve been over this,” Nico said, and despite himself, his eyes softened a little when he noted the hint of concern in his second-in-command‘s face. “We have too many enemies for our own good. We need to have people we can trust.” 

His eyes narrowed. “And you think you can trust them?”

“Just as much as they can trust us,” Nico replied, though the response sounded way too rehearsed and planned, even to his own ears. “We need this as much as they do.” 

“We have plenty of enemies you could have negotiated an alliance with,” Jesper pointed out. “We could have strengthened the bond with Philadelphia. Or even the Sabres. Hell, Nico, you could have even tried to fix things with the Panthers down south. Why in loving fuck would you pick the Rangers?”

Nico remained silent.

“Because you want something from them,” Jesper murmured, realisation clicking into place as he carefully noted Nico’s expression. “Or someone.” 

“I am doing it for the sake of the gang,” Nico answered simply.

A slow smile spread across Jesper’s face. “Us, huh?” 

“Shut up.” 

“You know, as your second-in-command, surely I deserve to know what your game plan is.” 

“My game plan is to get to this meeting and sign the papers to start a new era of alliance with the New York Rangers,” Nico stated, his voice simple and blunt, but Jesper knew better. “That is all.” 

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.” 

“Hm, sure.” 

Nico shot the boy a look over his shoulder, but Jesper just grinned in response.

“I should’ve brought Palat with me instead,” he grumbled under his breath, lips twitching upwards when he heard Jesper let out a noise of disagreement. “C’mon, don’t wanna be late.” 

“Please, we are already thirty minutes early.” 

“Walk faster.”

…

“Stop making that face.” 

Silence.

“You look prettier when you smile.”

Silence. 

“Rogue, baby, come on. Don’t be like that—” 

Your hand snapped out, your fingers wrapped around his wrist and halting his actions before he could even reach out to touch you. You turned your head to look at him for the first time since you left the house back in New York, your glare icy and cold. 

“Don’t try to fucking touch me again.” 

Jacob Trouba stared back at you, his face remaining impressively blank but you noted the small twitch in his jaw. It wasn’t often someone talked back to the boss of the New York Rangers and didn’t face some consequence, but you guessed you were getting a pass due to current circumstances. 

“Play nice,” he said eventually as he leaned back against his chair. You sat in the seat next to him to his right, with two men settled behind. Jacob had said they didn’t need any more men in the room, but you knew well enough that he would have some of his men crawling within a block radius of the building. “And try not to be too difficult.” 

“You picked the wrong woman then,” you retorted, your whole body feeling stiff and on edge as you glanced over at the clock above the door. Two more minutes before the meeting was set to begin. “There’s still time to change. There’s always—”

“Not happening.” 

You gritted your teeth together. 

“Smile.” 

“Don’t fucking test me right now.” 

You heard one of the boys choking on a laugh, quickly trying to cover it up with a laugh. You didn’t need to turn your head to know that Jacob was probably glaring at them. 

You couldn’t even find it within yourself to smile at the interaction. 

When Jacob had called you into his office two weeks ago, you honestly thought he was joking. He had told you about the offer the Devils had offered, a few other members of his inner circle in the room as the lot of you discussed it. Most of you mocked it, talked about how it was a fucking joke that such a deep, historical rivalry was meant to be fixed with one marriage. Jacob himself had made a few teasing comments during the whole thing. 

Then, a week later he told you he was actually contemplating it. 

And then, just this morning, he gave you next to no warning that it would be you heading across the river to marry one of the Devils boys. 

Your reaction was as one expected when they were told they were practically being sold off for the sake of an alliance—you were fucking pissed. You laughed it off but when he didn’t join, you felt an unexplainable rage bubble inside you.

You knew how this world worked. You knew the reality and the politics of mob life. You knew nothing but mob life. And you knew very well the way women were seen in the eyes of the mob, the way they were seen as objects more so than humans. You had seen friends close to you be shipped across the country for the sake of alliance arranged marriages. 

But never once did you think it would be you.

Never once did you think Jacob would pull this shit on you. 

And for an alliance with the Devils, of all fucking people.

You weren’t the kind of girl that mob men liked. You weren’t quiet or compliant or a pushover. You weren’t the kind of girl they liked to have on their arm to show off. You weren’t the kind of girl to be a mob wife, full stop. 

Jacob knew this. He knew it better than anyone. It was the main fucking reason you were close to him, that you had his respect, that you were one of the few people in his inner circle that he trusted beyond belief.

And he had thrown it back in your face. 

You hadn’t spoken to him after your initial outburst. Once your throat was raw and your hands were shaking with rage, you had turned on your heel and walked out the room. He had tried to speak to you, quite a few of the boys did. But you remained silent for the whole ride over, for the hours that passed, for the whole day until a few minutes ago. 

“You are being fucking ridiculous right now.” 

A muscle in your jaw twitched, an overbearing urge to turn in your seat and spit out every thought you had bubbling in your mind since this morning, but your attention was quickly diverted by the sound of the door opening. 

You had encountered many of the Devils before, though not many of their faces were familiar and recognisable. It was good to know one’s enemy, to know the strongest and weakest points of their group. You had studied them far more than you cared to admit, probably more so than needed over the years. 

However, years of meetings and unfortunate accounts meant you recognised the faces that walked through the door, but the last person still took you by surprise. You knew he would be here, you expected as much. 

But never once had you met Nico Hischier in the flesh. 

His reputation preceded him. You had heard a lot about the man, most of it surrounding the young age he stepped into power for the Devils. You knew what the other organisations thought about him, the whispers and rumours that travelled outside of New York where the hatred and rivalry wasn’t so prominent. 

He was seen to be…fair. 

You didn’t think it was necessarily possible to be considered fair in the life you all were in.

“Hischier.” 

You watched the man stop at the other side of the table, making a point of dragging the chair out and settling down comfortably. He waited a few moments as his men stood behind him in formation, and only after they were comfortable, did he speak.

“Trouba.” 

You could only imagine how much he was seething. A small part of you enjoyed it, even if you didn’t turn to watch his expression closely. 

“I assume you still agree to the terms of our deal.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement that laid heavy in the air between the two men.

“As long as nothing has changed on your side.”

Jacob’s lips twitched. “Now, Nico, what kind of man would you take me for? This is about an alliance.” 

Nico raised his brows a little. “To the start of a new beginning.” 

Jacob’s eyes shifted away from the man he had called his mortal enemy for years now, and instead shifted to you. “Your boys will like her.”

Your jaw clenched. 

“A wife isn’t meant to be shared,” Nico retorted, though there was a hint of something in his voice you couldn’t establish. “Though, I am not sure how things are run in New York.”

Jacob laughed, but it wasn’t one of amusement like the room pretended it was. “Of course not. I am sure—”

“Do I get to know who I’m marrying now?” You spoke up, watching as every pair of eyes in the room turned to you. They were heavy and judging and focused, but your expression remained impassive. “Or am I expected to just sign a paper and be done with it?” 

Nico’s eyes fell onto you, something swirling in them that felt strong and captivating and almost made you want to lean a little closer to read whatever was written in them. He tilted his head, almost like he was inquiring your words before he spoke.

“You’ll be my wife.” 

You froze, blinking. 

Understanding washed over Nico’s expression. “You didn’t know.”

“No,” you gritted out, your nails digging into your palm as that bubbling rage from earlier returned. “I did not.” 

Nico’s eyes shifted to Jacob, and you resisted the urge to do the same.

“I didn’t see it necessary information to share,” was all Jacob responded with. 

You bit your tongue.

“Hm,” Nico hummed, seeming to have a lot more to say but resisting the urge to do so. His eyes lingered on Jacob for a few moments, analysing and observing before his gaze settled on you again. “Are you returning to New Jersey with us, or do you wish to return to New York to collect your things?” 

You opened your mouth but Jacob bet you to it.

“She will go with you once the marriage is official.” 

Nico didn’t take his eyes off you. “I wasn’t asking you, Trouba.” 

You heard someone cough behind you, but you found yourself staring right back at Nico.

He raised his brows in question. 

And you could feel Jacob’s eyes boring into your side. 

And maybe it was petty or maybe it was fuelled by the lingering anger you had towards the man, but you kept your eyes on Nico as you spoke. 

“Might as well get used to New Jersey as soon as I can, no?” You stated simply, but you could have sworn he almost looked pleased with your response before his eyes returned to Jacob. 

“Then it’s settled,” he said as he pushed himself off his chair, the two men behind him quickly taking a step closer as if on instinct. “We’ll be sure to send you a wedding invitation.”

…

You thought you had an idea what it would be like to live with the New Jersey Devils, truthfully because you didn’t assume it would be all that different to life with the Rangers. You weren’t naive enough to think both organisations were run the exact same way, but you assumed there would be a lot more similarities than there actually were.

The first thing that caught you by surprise was the way they talked. 

You hadn’t spoken a word as you left the room, not taking Nico’s offer to say your goodbyes to the Rangers you had come with. The last thing you needed to hear was an earful from Jacob for not following his orders, or his plan (the one he conveniently kept to himself and expected everyone to simply know). You followed Nico out the door, trying not to feel so on edge about having the two other Devils flanking you from behind.

When you reached the car, it wasn’t too much of a surprise that Nico reached to open your door. Most men were raised to act like gentlemen in this life, even if they were far from it. He waited until you were settled in the seat behind the passenger’s seat, seatbelt clicked in place before he closed the door.

You were somewhat surprised to find him round the car and settle on the other side of the backseat, and not sit in the front. You tried not to stare at him too much. 

You expected the drive back to be similar to the journey you had with Trouba this morning. It almost startled you the way the three of them instantly broke out into conversation. 

It wasn’t anything damning or secretive, but it still felt wrong to listen in. It felt wrong for them to talk in front of you. It felt like a culture shock, being in a car and not having the people inside the vehicle with you being overly paranoid at the car being tapped. It felt weird that they didn’t even hesitate, didn’t even wait until the dark haired man (the vague memory of his name on the tip of your tongue) in the front had turned the key in the ignition. 

“I get to choose the music since I rode shotgun!” The blond in the passenger seat blurted out before the car had even reversed out of its space.

“Fuck off, you like my music!” Nico snapped back.

“Sure, Boss, sure.” 

You blinked. 

The fact they spoke was one thing, but you certainly didn’t expect them to talk to each other like that. The fact they spoke to Nico—their boss—like that. It was far from what you were expecting. 

“Back me up, Siegs,” the blond tried again but the man in the driver’s seat just snorted. 

“I don’t care, Jesper,” Jonas replied, though there was a smile on his face.

Jesper let out a huff. “You are so fake in front of him, I know you hate it.” 

Jonas only shrugged in response, which made Nico’s smile widen a little.

You tried not to gape at the three of them, but it was a little difficult. It wasn’t like you expected to be treated like an outcast—although, maybe you did—but you certainly weren’t expecting them to seem so…relaxed around you. 

The silence that usually filled the Rangers car was nowhere to be seen. The underlying tension between the boss and his men was non-existent. It almost felt like you were sitting in a car full of friends. Maybe even a family.

It was a little disconcerting. 

The second thing that caught your attention amongst everything else was the way they treated you.

You knew the expectations of a mob wife. You knew that arranged marriages, like yours and Nico’s, had been happening for decades now. You had seen many play out with your own eyes back with the Rangers, saw what was expected of these women who were thrown into new homes and lives for the sake of alliances, money and more. 

It wasn’t a surprise when Nico led you through the house, guiding you upstairs with a hand placed in the dip of your back. The shock came when he stopped suddenly outside a door, turning to you with an expectant look. 

“This is your room. I thought you would want to rest for tonight, maybe have some time to yourself,” Nico explained, polite and curt, like a true gentleman. “I can have some dinner sent up to you. And my office is just down the hall. Feel free to knock if you need anything.” 

You stared at him with a confused expression. 

Nico’s brows furrowed a little in response. “Sorry, is that okay? You look…lost.”

“You said your room,” you said, though the boy still looked a bit confused. “Instead of ours.”

“Oh,” Nico nodded, realisation dawning over his expression before he gave you a polite smile. “My room is the next one over.” 

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. “We aren’t sharing a room?”

“We aren’t married,” he stated simply.

“Do you expect us to share a room after we are married?” You asked.

His expression remained impassive and unreadable. “If you wish so.” 

There was a small voice in the back of your head telling you he was being genuine, and yet, somehow, that only made your confusion grow. 

“Goodnight, Rogue,” was all Nico said before he headed down the hall, leaving you lost in your own thoughts and suspicions and mixed emotions.

You thought there was nothing less that the New Jersey Devils could do to catch you by surprise. And you were very wrong about that.

You had hardly slept the night before. There was something unsettling being away from the place you had called home your whole life. There was something even more unsettling knowing you were in enemy territory—even if you couldn’t really call it that anymore. There was just something unsettling about lying in a bed, knowing that you didn’t know a single soul beyond the door. 

And after tossing and turning, you had mostly given up by the time someone knocked on your door just after nine in the morning. 

You had almost expected that yesterday was the last you would see of Nico before he rushed off, hiding away in his office or meetings or whatever other excuses he could make to avoid you. You certainly weren’t expecting to find him on the other side of your door, a polite smile on his face once again.

“Good morning,” he greeted you, his hands tucked behind his back. The sun had barely been in the sky for a few hours and the man was dressed immaculately in a shirt and suit pants, looking far too put together. “Sleep well?” 

“Yes,” you lied, because it wasn’t exactly like you wanted to get into the details with your soon-to-be husband. “Can I help you?”

“Oh yes,” he cleared his throat a little, taking a step back and only then did you realise he wasn’t alone. The boy beside him was taller, a little skinnier too. With curly hair and a baby face, you would guess he was at least a couple of years younger than Nico. “This is Luke.” 

You glanced over the boy before your gaze returned to Nico. “Is he my babysitter?” 

Nico’s lips twitched upwards. “I was going to say bodyguard.”

“Semantics.” 

Luke cleared his throat a little, ducking his head down but not fast enough for you not to see the small smirk playing on his lips.

Nico straightened his spine before he spoke, his expression impassive again. “He can help you with whatever you need. And if he can’t, then he knows someone who can.”

“Let me guess,” you started, leaning against the door as you surveyed the older man with a knowing look. “He’s under strict orders to make sure I don’t run off?”

Nico’s brows furrowed together. “Of course not. If you wish to go out somewhere, Luke will accompany you.”

You could only blink in response. You felt as though you had been doing that a lot lately.

“Oh.” 

You didn’t remember what else Nico had said before he ran off, muttering something about a meeting and someone called Jack—the name familiar once again—blowing up his phone. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if it mattered. Everything in the last twenty-fours had thrown your life upside down, you didn’t think you could handle much more.

And then Luke turned to you with a shit-eating grin on his face and said, “wanna go get McDonald’s breakfast?” 

…

You had come to realise that despite his baby face and slight cartoonish laugh, Luke wasn’t as bad as you expected him to be.

Back in New York with the Rangers, you had crossed paths with your fair share of young and ambitious members. They were dedicated and strong-willed and determined to do anything to prove themselves to the cause, to prove themselves to their boss. They were willing to be ruthless, merciless and cold-hearted. 

New Jersey was very different. 

There was a strong lack of fear in the air, replaced with something more akin to encouragement. The boys here didn’t fear to make mistakes as badly as you had seen in the Rangers. They followed the rules and did what they were told because they wanted to, because they wanted to thrive. Not because they were scared of what would happen to them otherwise.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how you felt about it.

“Every week?”

“Every week,” Luke confirmed with a nod.

“Without fail?”

“Mhm,” he nodded once again.

“Everyone?”

“Usually,” Luke answered, pausing for a moment before he shrugged. “Unless someone has something else on. But nobody actively goes out of their way to miss it. Candy would kill them.”

You paused for a moment, your brows furrowed together as you tried to put a face to the name, only to come short. In your defence, though it had been close to a week since you arrived, most of your time had been spent with Luke. You would see people here and there, wandering around the house or passing by, and Luke would always try to inform you on who they were as best he could. But there were so many new names and new faces and new…everything to get used to.

You still felt like an outsider wandering the halls. 

You still felt pretty pissed that Trouba, or any of the Rangers back home for that matter, hadn’t tried reaching out to you.

You still felt very fucking confused on the fact you had yet to see Nico since the day he brought you to Jersey. It seemed as though he was hiding away to avoid you after all. 

“You’ll know her when you see her,” Luke informed you, seeming to pick up on the confusion on your face. “She’s the loud one in colourful clothes who has a guy resembling a lovesick puppy following her around.”

You raised your brows in question.

“Long story,” Luke snorted. “But where Candy goes, John follows.”

You nodded. “And John is…”

“Tall guy, dark curly hair, always silently brooding and judging people,” Luke listed off like it would help. “He kinda looks at you like he wants to kill you.” 

You let out a huff of amusement. “You sure he doesn’t just do that to you?”

Luke paused, almost as though he was having a revelation. 

Your lips twitched upwards. And then, because apparently you couldn’t keep a nice thing going, you found yourself asking, “are you even supposed to be telling me all this?”

He frowned. “What? That John is kinda emotionally constipated?” 

“I—” You paused, your nose scrunching up a little. “What? No. Just about everyone in general.”

Luke stared at you. “Why wouldn’t I tell you?”

“Information,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders. 

“Anyone with two working eyes could see half the shit I tell you,” Luke retorted with a snort. “It’s hardly confidential information when I tell you what a pain in the ass Jack is. Or that Dawson goes through three bottles of shampoo in a month. Or that—”

“That you are scared of spiders?” You interrupted, something close to a teasing smile on your lips as you watched the boy scoff.

“I’m not!” He insisted. “That spider just caught me by surprise.”

“You screamed.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see it.” 

And even if you never said it to Luke, it was weird he was being so open with you about the members of the New Jersey Devils. Every piece of information—no matter how small or insignificant—could be used against you. It was a life motto, one ingrained into you when you grew up as a Ranger. It felt like a basic life rule everyone followed. 

At least, it did back in New York. 

In New Jersey, it seemed like the second you stepped foot onto their premise, they saw you as one of their own. And once you were one of their own, there were no secrets between you. Everyone knew everything about everyone—or at least, a general understanding. No one was shying away from each other, from you. 

You didn’t know how you felt about it, but it did make your heart pine for something familiar. For something that felt like home. 

And New Jersey would never be that. 

…

To your utter surprise, the next time you saw Nico was that following Sunday.

You weren’t naive to think he would be glued to your side, that much was confirmed when he ordered Luke to be your round-the-clock bodyguard. He wanted to keep an eye on you, he just didn’t want to be the person to do it. You were somewhat surprised he didn’t send one of the bigger guys—like Kevin or Kurtis—to be your bodyguard, someone to intimidate you. Though, you assumed he was probably saving them for more important jobs than a glorified babysitter. 

Your days had been blurring into one, and though you hadn’t spent much time in Jersey, it had felt like a lifetime.

Your life was stuck in routine and you had gotten pretty used to it by that point. 

Luke would be at your door by eight sharp, ready to get the day started. You would share every meal with him, though it varied whether you both bothered in the kitchen or went somewhere out to eat—Luke had been enjoying showing you various places around the city. But that was about as exciting as your days got. You might bump into some others, talk to them, get to know them.

But your days were boring, pointless and repetitive. 

The only slight change to your routine was Sunday. The unspoken but very relevant rule of every member attending the dinner, by your surprise, extended to you too. Luke had told you as much over breakfast, talking away about how Candy had been interrogating him on what dishes you would prefer. 

You had told him you didn’t care—because you didn’t and you had a feeling it would give him a harder time with Candy, which amused you. 

However, Luke had been frustratingly vague with the timings of everything. It wasn’t a big deal, considering you didn’t have much else on your plate to be worried about. But the limited wardrobe and Luke’s shrugged response when asked about the dress code for the dinner was turning out to be quite the issue.

It was somewhere just past seven when you heard three knocks on your door.

“I’m decent!” You called out, frowning at the few options hanging in your wardrobe. It was quite sad, to be honest. But you hadn’t had the chance to get everything transferred from your New York apartment, not that anyone from the Rangers seemed eager to offer their help. 

But instead of coming in like he usually did, Luke knocked again.

You frowned, turning to look at the door. “Just come in!”

The door remained shut.

“You’re so dramatic,” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes as you made your way towards the door. You reached for the handle, fully prepared to see Luke on the other side with his face in his phone or even giving you a shit-eating grin like he knew he got under your skin. 

You were not expecting Nico to be standing on the other side.

“Oh.” You blinked. “I thought you were Luke.” 

Nico’s lips twitched. “I gave him the night off.” 

You raised your brows. “Oh?”

“There was a small change in plans.” Nico continued. “I thought I would escort you to dinner.”

“Escort me,” you repeated, something quite like amusement lacing your voice. “I didn’t realise these big dinners were so fancy. Should I change?” 

“We won’t be joining the others this week. I thought we could have dinner alone,” Nico corrected, his eyes watching you closely like he was inspecting your reaction. “If that is okay with you.” 

You tried to hide your surprise that he was giving you an option. A part of you wondered if it was a formality, something he phrased like an option but was really a command—something Jacob would do often. Yet, you couldn’t really find yourself imagining Nico was one of those people.

“Just the two of us?” You questioned.

Nico nodded before he spoke. “I thought it would be best for us to get to know each other.”

Your interest piqued but you didn’t show much as you nodded, telling him to give you a few more minutes before you joined him.

For the dinner itself, he led you away from the large dining room where you assumed the large group dinner was taking place. He didn’t say a word as you walked, seeming comfortable enough in the silence until you reached the room. 

And Nico played the part of a gentleman well. He opened the door and guided you in first. He pulled the chair out and waited for you to settle in your seat before he even made his way to his seat. He reached for the wine and filled your glass before even daring to touch his own.

You felt on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“You look tense.” 

You raised your brows. “Just what a woman wants to hear.”

Nico’s lips twitched. “I have a feeling that you wouldn’t care what people say about you.” 

“Your feeling would be correct.” 

“Your reputation precedes you,” he mused, leaning back against his chair with an ease only a man in power would have. 

You tilted your head. “And yet, you still agreed to marry me.” 

“Who said your reputation wasn’t what appealed to me the most?” Nico retorted, hiding the smirk on his lips as he took a sip from his wine glass. 

“I am sure whatever flowery promises Jacob added definitely sold it,” you commented, unable to hide the bite in your voice. 

Nico stared at you for a few moments before he spoke. “I do apologise.”

You raised your brows in questioning. 

“For blindsiding you that day,” Nico continued. “I was under the impression you were aware of the contract.” 

“Funnily enough, I was not informed my name had been thrown into a deal,” you replied, jaw clenching a little as the reminder of what Jacob had inserted you into washing over you. This was your home now, not New York. “Jacob knew better than to tell me.” 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, your name wasn’t officially included,” Nico added. 

You paused, a crease forming between your brows. “What do you mean?” 

“Just that the official agreement between the Devils and Rangers included me marrying someone but no names were included for technicality reasons,” Nico answered and it took everything in you to keep your face straight. 

Up until this point, you were under the impression that Jacob had practically thrown you into the deep end with no warning because your name was the one on the contract. You had seen it time and time again in arranged marriages, you had seen demands to be made because men felt entitled to certain women or dangled them in front of the enemy as a bargaining chip. 

If you were being completely honest, you had assumed that was what happened here. You had assumed back and forth negotiations had been made and Jacob had deemed you the best bargaining chip to get whatever he wanted from the Devils. The Rangers tended to be old school and traditional that way. 

It never occurred to you that you weren’t a part of this, that you didn’t need to be a part of it. 

“So, Jacob just offered me up to fill a spot?” You questioned, your voice remaining steady and calm as your mind swirled with a million thoughts.

Nico’s eyes glimmered with an unreadable emotion. “Something like that.”

Your heart was racing in your chest. “And any woman could be in my spot and the agreement would still remain?” 

“I guess so,” Nico stated, seeming like he wanted to say more but he remained quiet. 

“Interesting,” you commented, a plan already forming in your head as you reached for your glass. “You may have made a mistake, you know?” 

Nico’s lips twitched upwards. “What makes you say that?” 

“If this is to be my wedding, I want it to be absolutely perfect,” you said with a casual shrug of your shoulders, staring at the man across the table from you. “I refuse anything less.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Nico mused before raising his glass in your direction. “Do as you please.” 

Your smile widened in response as you took a long sip from your glass. 

You were going to break Nico Hishcier and you were going to make sure he sent you running back to New York, if it was the last thing you did. 

And then, you would make Jacob Trouba regret even uttering your name into the stupid agreement. 

…

“It was targeted?” 

Jesper nodded, his face serious and shoulders tensed as he slid a copy of the official police report across the table towards Nico. “Last night,” he said with a heavy sigh. “They broke in, roughed the place up a little and then set it on fire. It didn’t seem like they found whatever they wanted so they burned the place down.” 

“Talk about dramatic,” Jack grumbled from his spot on the couch. 

Nico shot the younger boy a look before turning back to Jesper. “What did the police say?” 

“As much as you would expect,” the blond shrugged. “They don’t want to get involved if it’s dirty work.” 

Nico raised a brow. “And is it?” 

“You tell me,” Jesper shot back, his jaw clenching. “Did your best friend Trouba mention anything about his boys’ weekend plans to break into one of our warehouses?” 

“Bratter is feeling sassy,” Jack sang, snickering even when Jonas tried to jab him with his elbow to keep quiet.

“These attacks have been going on for months,” Jesper pointed out, his lips turned downwards in a frown. “And they aren’t going to stop until we retaliate.” 

“We don’t know who is behind it yet,” Nico retorted. 

“Of course we fucking do.” 

“Jesper,” Nico shot him a look. “I know you don’t like my agreement with Trouba but he wouldn’t break it. We signed the truce.” 

“It isn’t official until the wedding,” Jonas spoke up from his spot on the couch next to Jack. 

“Jacob Trouba is many things but stupid isn’t one of them,” Nico sighed, ignoring the ‘ehhhh’ Timo muttered out as he leaned back in his chair. “And it would be incredibly stupid to target the people you are trying to sign an alliance with.” 

“Still,” Jesper grumbled as he nodded at the police report. “One week earlier and half of our stock could have been up in flames.” 

Timo raised his brows. “You think someone knew?” 

“I think someone may be getting delayed information,” Jesper corrected.

“I want you and Timo investigating this,” Nico said as he tapped his finger on the file. “Dig out the reports from the other targeted attacks and—” 

RING! RING! RING!

Nico frowned a little as the shrill of his phone echoed through the room. He ignored the boys’ curious looks as he reached for it, answering the call and lifting it to his ear. “Nico Hischier speaking.” 

“Uh, Mr Hishcier, so sorry to bother you,” a mousy, timid voice spoke from the other side. “This is Jeff from the bank calling and—”

“Get on with it, Jeff,” Nico stated bluntly. 

“Right, yes. Uh, there has been a suspicious amount of transactions coming out of your bank today and we wanted to inform you in case you wished us to freeze the accounts or—” 

Nico tried to bite back his smile. “Where are these transactions coming from?” 

“The last one to go through was a purchase of four hundred thousand dollars for…flowers?” 

This time Nico actually let out a loud, boisterous laugh which caught both Jeff and the boys in his study off guard.

“What was the one before that?” Nico asked, clearly amused. 

“Three hundred dollars spent at…McDonalds.” 

“Keep letting them through,” Nico assured the man on the other side of the phone. “That’s just my fiancée having some fun.” 

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Mr Hischier, and congratulations!” 

Nico thanked the man before hanging up, throwing his phone back down on the desk before he turned his attention back to the meeting they were having. However, he seemed to pick up on the eerie silence and lifted his head to find all of the boys looking at him with various expressions painted across their faces. 

“Out with it then,” Nico said eventually. 

“Count on Nico bagging the most expensive fiancée in New York,” Timo teased, a shit-eating grin on his face.

But Nico just shrugged. “It’s her wedding day. She wants it to be perfect.” 

“Even if it leaves you bankrupt,” Jonas snorted.

“As long as she’s happy,” Nico answered, sincere in his words. 

“If only Trouba knew how whipped you were for his girl, he would have never agreed to the deal,” Jack commented, raising his hands in mock surrender when Nico turned to glare at him.

“She’s not Trouba’s girl,” Nico gritted out. 

“Yikes, Boss has claws.” 

“Anyone with a pair of eyes can see how whipped Nico is,” Jesper commented with a huff of laughter. “Trouba is, in fact, stupid if he didn’t notice. Now, can we please get back to the main problem before he starts singing limericks.” 

Nico frowned. “Hey—” 

“My money is on the Sabres being involved!” 

“As if they even know how to light a match.” 

…

“You look like you have had a busy day.” 

You turned your head to find Nico standing in the door entrance, leaning against the frame as his eyes wandered over the dozens of bags in your room. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his sleeves were rolled to his elbows and a few strands of hair were falling into his face. It almost annoyed you that this was the most dishevelled you had seen him and he still looked so good and put-together.

“I decided to take it slow,” you answered casually, turning back around before you could see the smile tugging on his lips. “I didn’t want to scare Luke off too soon.” 

“The boy is tougher than he looks,” Nico commented. “I am sure he can handle whatever you throw at him.”

Your lips twitched. “You weren’t the one listening to him whine about carrying a couple of bags.”

“A couple is an understatement,” Nico mused. “He’s still unpacking the car with Dawson’s help.” 

You glanced over your shoulder, something victorious and smug shining in your eyes. “Is there a problem with that?”

Nico flashed you a smile. “My money is your money. My boys are your boys. Knock yourself out, schatz.”

You blinked, his words barely processing in your head before you realised he had already begun walking away. You glanced down at the countless bags littering your bedroom floor, most of them useless purchases you picked up to push the balance higher. 

And yet, Nico just walked away without a care in the world. 

…

“I really wouldn’t recommend this.” 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not listening to you.” 

“Rogue—” 

You rolled your eyes, listening to the satisfying clicks of your heels against the floor as you made your way down the corridor. “He’s my fiancé.” 

“He is in a meeting,” Luke shot back. “He doesn't like being interrupted. Not even by us.” 

“I’m not you,” you retorted, almost hearing the eye roll from the younger boy following behind you. “And I don’t care if he is in a meeting, he can make time for me.”

“That’s not how it works,” Luke muttered under his breath.

“It is now.” 

“God, I’m going to have to plan a funeral.” 

You ignored the boy’s last feeble attempts to stop you from going through with it—or to at least knock on the door—but it was hopeless as you reached Nico’s study, hand on the knob and opening the door before Luke could even think to pull you back. Or throw you over his shoulder and run back down the corridor. 

The room fell silent as you stood in the doorway. 

You didn’t recognise the men sitting across from Nico at the large desk. They were old and burly and quite literally looked like characters out of Sopranos. They turned to face you, eyebrows furrowed and lips turned downwards at the interruption. 

You smiled in response. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” One of them spoke, the Jersey accent strong and thick and coating his words generously. “We’re doin’ business here, sweetheart. Bounce!” 

You glanced at the man, unfazed before you turned your gaze towards Nico who was watching you with interested eyes. “I need to talk to you.” 

“We are busy here, lady, can’t you see?” The other man spoke, huffing and puffing in his seat and it took everything inside you not to roll your eyes at his tantrum. 

“And now I’m busy with him,” you stated simply, arms crossed over your chest as you stepped further into the room. “Scram. You are done here.” 

The first man huffed, puffing his chest out as he opened his mouth to say something but Nico cut him off. 

“Go.” 

Both men turned to Nico, angry and outraged. “You cannot be serious?!” 

“Go,” Nico repeated himself, a little more firmly this time. 

The men were smart enough not to test Nico’s patience any further, rushing out the room with their tails between their legs as they did. It almost made you smile the way they avoided your gaze as they did so. You heard Luke let out a sigh behind you, muttering something under his breath as he followed the other men out and closed the door behind him. 

“You’ve intrigued me,” Nico spoke up, leaning back against his chair. “What could possibly be so important that you needed to discuss it with me?” 

You grinned as you lifted the folders in your hand. “Wedding venues.”

Nico blinked. “Wedding venues?” 

“Wedding venues,” you repeated, your eyes eagerly watching every inch of his face for a reaction. 

It took years of training to school your features as Nico nodded you over, still relaxed in his chair as he smiled back at you. Back in New York, a move like this would’ve gotten you killed and yet here—

“Show me,” he replied. 

Your eyes stayed on his face, waiting for a slip up as you walked towards his desk. You rounded the piece of furniture, pushing the boundary a little bit more as you hopped up on the desk and placed the folder down beside you rather than handing it to him. 

“Comfortable?” He asked, his voice almost sounding playful as he reached for the folder. 

“I’ve sat on more comfortable desks,” you commented offhandedly. 

His eyes darkened a little at that. But before you could even bring yourself to comment on it, he was already opening the folder and scanning through the options. 

They were obscene, if you were completely honest. They were tacky and loud and far from a place you would even step foot in, let alone have your wedding in. But they were expensive—so expensive that it would send a normal man into cardiac arrest to see the numbers beside each venue. 

Then again, Nico Hischier wasn’t a normal man. 

“Which one would make you happiest?” He eventually asked, lifting his head to look at you expectantly. 

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you that incapable of making a decision, Hischier?” 

His lips twitched. “And if I say I just want you happy?”

“I would say that is a weak man’s response,” you replied, lifting your chin a little. It was a testy comment to make, not one that many men in power would take lightly. 

To your shock, Nico just laughed. “Then I say pick the church.” 

You raised your brows a little—the church was the most expensive option on the list. 

“Do you disagree?” Nico followed up, watching the way you stared at him with an odd look in your eyes.

“No,” you said as you took the folder from him. “The church will do.”

“Is that all?” Nico asked, something in his voice that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was like he was eager, whether that was for you to leave or stay, you couldn’t quite work out.

“Yes,” you answered, though you made no move to slide off the desk just yet. “Seeing as I have nothing else to do in this place. Just a sweet, complying fiancée doing her duties and planning a wedding.” 

Nico’s eyes glimmered in interest. “Sweet sums you up pretty well, no?” 

Your eyes narrowed in a glare. 

“I mean, by all means, take the honeymoon planning off my hands if that is what you want,” Nico continued, shifting a bit closer so your foot was nudging his thigh. You were almost distracted by the casual drop of information about the honeymoon he was apparently planning.

“You’re mocking me,” you stated bluntly.

“A little,” he mused.

“You know my reputation,” you added. “Surely you knew what kind of wife I would be.”

“I had my guesses,” Nico confirmed with a nod.

“And yet, here we are.” 

“Here we are indeed,” Nico grinned. “Do you want to reserve the venue or shall I?”

It was safe to say Luke steered clear of you for the rest of the day following your mood after you left Nico’s study.

…

“You don’t get it,” Luke huffed, fingers tapping along the wheel. “This is the best bakery on the east coast, maybe even the whole country!”

You raised your brows. “Is that so?”

“Just wait until you try Peter’s strawberry tarts,” Luke insisted, so serious that it took everything inside you to not snort. “It’s like…heaven in your mouth.” 

“Peter is just that good, huh?” You mused.

“You’re teasing me now but you will be wanting the guy to make your wedding cake after you try some of his desserts,” Luke stated confidently. 

You had no real plan for today other than the desperate need to get out of the house. You were bored out of your mind and Luke was not too far behind, considering you spent almost every waking hour with the boy. It had been an offhand comment about wanting something sweet that made the boy grab your hand and drag you out of the house.

Luke was adamant that Peter’s Bakery in Hoboken was the best bakery in the state. You had been content to just sit in the passenger seat and let the younger boy ramble on about how all the Devils frequented there, that Candy was known to visit once a week, that Jack tended to hide out there after a particularly bad day. 

It was endearing to hear about the place. 

It was even more endearing that Luke trusted you enough to take you there, even if you wouldn’t dare to admit that out loud.

“Pete?” 

“One sec!” 

Luke glanced at you over his shoulder, grinning wider than you had ever seen before turning back to the counter. A few moments passed before a man walked out: brown hair, average build, a little mousy looking. And the apron covered in flour truly added to the baker charm.

“Moose,” the boy greeted with a large smile. “What can I get for my second favourite Hughes?” 

Luke rolled his eyes but began listing off far too many pastries and sweet treats for two people to enjoy. 

Five minutes later, you found yourself sitting across from the boy in a booth with a large variety of baked goods laid out on the table in front of you. It was borderline overwhelming and intense but you didn’t have the heart to stop Luke from ordering so much when he kept insisting on all the classics you had to try.

“So,” you began as the boy pushed a slice of apple pie towards you. “Moose?” 

“It’s an old nickname,” Luke answered with a halfhearted shrug. 

You raised a brow. “How old?”

Luke’s lips twitched. “Peter is an old friend of mine and Jack’s. He…he’s been there for us through a lot.” 

“Because our line of business crosses paths with bakers so often,” you mused, lighthearted and playful. You could tell the words were heavier than he was letting on but you didn’t have the heart to start poking at old wounds. Not today.

Luke snorted. “Nah, he needed to lay low after some close calls. He made some deal with Nico. Boss offers him protection, he offers the best apple pie you will ever have in your entire life.”

You shot a glance towards the other boy, working away behind the counter with a sense of ease that told you he was comfortable, that he felt safe even being so out in the open and exposed to the public. It wasn’t something you saw often in this industry when people had a target on their back. 

“He did?” You asked, your voice a little softer than before. 

“He’s a good guy, you know,” Luke murmured in response, watching your expression closely. 

“He has a reputation for being fair,” you commented absentmindedly. “Which is a load of bullshit when it comes to our work.” 

“Not with Nico,” Luke retorted. “He is harsh when he needs to be. But he is understanding. He gets it.”

“Hm,” was all you could respond with, your mind spiralling with a million different stories of men in power that exploited and corrupted the world around them in the greedy hunt for more. You had seen men crumble under that desire, you had seen them sacrifice their lives and loved ones to get what they want. 

You couldn’t imagine someone having all that power and not being corrupted by it. 

“Hey,” Luke whined, all youngest child like, as he lightly kicked your shin under the table. “Stop procrastinating and try the pie!” 

You rolled your eyes, making a show of grabbing the fork and cutting off a good sized chunk before shovelling it in your mouth.

Luke looked at you expectantly. “So?” 

“It’s good.” 

He blinked before frowning. “Just good? Are your taste buds broken?” 

“Fine, it’s very good,” you corrected with a small smile on your lips. “But it’s not the best apple pie I have ever had.” 

Luke raised his brows. “Oh yeah? And where was that?” 

“Tony’s Tiny Bakery,” you shot back, watching as the boy huffed across from you. “It was around the corner from this cute Italian place that did amazing garlic bread too. I’ll have to take you one day, it’s only—” 

And then you paused. 

And it was stupid to say when you had quite literally spent the better part of the last few weeks in your new home, when you had been coming up to the three month mark in New Jersey. But it hit you that you would never see New York again, not in the way you had growing up. 

You were a New Jersey Devil now. You had a new home and new territory. You had a new family you were supposed to be accepting. You weren’t able to step back in the city you grew up in, not without direct permission from the people you used to call your family. 

You had been so pissed that day when Jacob had thrown you into the deep end of an arranged marriage you had never known about that you wanted to get him back, you wanted to hit him where it hurt and have one last act of defiance. You had walked away from New York with no proper goodbye because you knew it wasn’t what he wanted. 

And truthfully, it wasn’t what you wanted either. 

You never got the chance to say goodbye to such a large part of your life and identity. You never got the chance to say goodbye to the people who raised you and the people you grew up with. You never got the chance to visit your favourite places in New York with the freedom of being a Ranger before you jumped ship. 

It never really hit you that you missed New York as much as you did.

“I get it.” 

You almost jumped in your seat when you felt a hand over your own, when you blinked away the tears welling up in your eyes to find Luke smiling fondly from the other side of the booth. You tried to pull your hand away and pretend everything was okay, but the boy tightened his hold on you.

“I know what it’s like to leave the only place you called home,” Luke murmured, his voice soft but thick with emotion. “It gets easier.” 

You nodded, swallowing the ball in the back of your throat before you flashed him a small smile. “This apple pie is pretty damn good.” 

Luke’s smile widened. “Of course it is. I don’t mess around when it comes to food, Rogue. Catch up.” 

You let out a small but genuine laugh in response. 

…

“How quickly can you get dressed?” 

Your eyes wandered over your magazine page towards the boy standing at the bottom of the couch you were currently laying on. He was dressed in his usual attire—the shirt, dress pants and nice shoes that probably cost more than the average man’s monthly salary—and raised your brows. 

“Depends,” you answered as you lowered the magazine you were halfheartedly reading to rest on your stomach. “Get dressed as in ‘we are walking around the park’ or ‘we are about to go to a gala’?” 

Nico smiled a little. “More ‘wear something that is comfortable and easy to carry guns on you’.”

Now that caught your attention.

You sat up on the couch, the magazine abandoned on the pillow beside you as you stared at the boy with interest. “You’re taking me on a job?” 

“I was hoping to use your expertise for something,” Nico said with gentle but watchful eyes. “Are you in?” 

“Give me fifteen minutes,” was all you responded with before walking past the boy and towards your bedroom.

Less than thirty minutes later, you found yourself slipping out of Nico’s car and looking at the absolute mess in front of you with raised brows, a low whistle of surprise leaving your lips as you took in the damaged property. 

“And this was done recently?” 

“Two weeks ago,” Nico confirmed with a nod, frowning at the warehouse with a look of frustration and annoyance. “Third warehouse chosen. Fourth targeted attack.” 

You glanced at him. “What was the other?” 

“A person,” Nico frowned. “We were lucky that their plan failed, which is why I assume they began to target buildings instead.”

“Coward move,” you frowned, choosing to ignore the way Nico snorted a little at your response. “What did the warehouse hold?” 

“Just some of our basic exports,” Nico shrugged.

Your eyes widened a little.

He frowned. “What?” 

“Nothing,” you shrugged, clearly your throat a little. “Just a little surprised you told me, to be honest. I thought you would have given some weird elusive answer.” 

His frown deepened a little. “Why would I do that?” 

“Because I’m a glorified stranger,” you retorted like it was obvious. 

“You’re my fiancée,” Nico corrected, his voice still serious and sincere as he spoke. “What’s mine is yours.” 

You swallowed a little at his intensity. “So this mess is mine too?” 

“Just like everything else I own,” he said with a nod. “And as much as is your right to be here as my fiancée, I also brought you because you’re smart. Because you know how to get in people’s heads. Because you’ll be able to spot things neither me nor the others will see.” 

“Trouba’s favourite tool,” you deadpanned.

“You’re your own person here, Rogue,” Nico assured you, something else written in his expression that you couldn’t quite read. “It’s something you should get used to. You’re a Devil now.”

You didn’t get much of a chance to reply before he wandered towards the desolate warehouse, footsteps crunching with every step he took whilst you were left slightly baffled by the enigma that was Nico Hischier. 

…

“So, is she in love with you yet?” 

Nico shot Jack a look. 

“Because from what Luke’s told me, she has been doing everything under the sun to piss you off. And I’m no expert in love but that doesn’t seem like something someone in love would do,” Jack continued as he settled happily on the couch in Nico’s study—one of his favourite spots.

“Did I not give you a job?” Nico asked bluntly, leaning back in his chair and sighing. He knew there was no point of attempting to do any more work whilst the younger boy was in the room.

“Yeah but we both know I’ll get to it eventually,” he waved the older man off, his hands tucked behind his head as he lounged back on the comfy couch. “This is far more entertaining.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico sniffed. 

“I have seen you shoot a man between his eyes without a second thought,” Jack mused, the glee in his voice unmissable as he continued to tease the older man. “And yet, I watched you have a full breakdown to Dougie on whether or not your fiancée would prefer your hair slick back or product free on the off chance you bumped into her that day.” 

“I like to make a good impression,” Nico retorted. 

“You’re trying to seduce her and failing miserably,” Jack shot back.

“She is my fiancée,” Nico huffed out. 

“She is the girl you have been downright obsessed with since she knocked you on your ass four years ago,” Jack corrected. “And she doesn’t even remember.” 

“I was undercover,” Nico defended. “Pally hardly recognised me that day, too.”

“Are you listening to yourself, Hisch?” Jack questioned, his brows raised in amusement. “This is getting a little pathetic.” 

Nico let out a heavy sigh, raising his hand towards Jack for him to continue. “Okay then, what do you suggest?” 

“Less mind games and playing the elusive mob boss character you’ve been trying out,” Jack answered, his voice a hint softer than before and it caught him off guard, “Be Nico—the real version.” 

“That was very High School Musical of you,” Nico teased. 

“I knew it was a bad idea letting you watch those movies,” Jack playfully groaned but he was grinning back. “I take it back, put the scary mob boss face back on. She is gonna laugh you back to Switzerland if you quote that shit to her.”

“She could be a fan,” Nico pointed out.

But Jack just shot him a look. “I know you’re blinded by love and all that jazz, but even you have to know that is a load of bullshit.”

“Go do you work now, Jack.” 

The younger boy gave him a mock salute. “On it, Boss.” 

…

In your mind, the plan was full proof, effective and successful. 

In reality, it was a form of torture that didn’t have the results you wanted and instead left your brain scrambled on whether you really wanted it to work or not.

When you stepped out of that meeting room months ago, you were under the impression you were stuck in this arranged marriage with Nico Hishcier. A week later, you thought you had a loophole and a clear path back to New York and the life you had. 

Instead, you were laying in your bed and reeling that although you may not be the typical mob wife, Nico Hishcier was far from the typical mob boss. And it was completely fucking with your plan. 

And maybe you weren’t fully ready to admit it but it was fucking with your desire to go back home too—if New York even felt like home anymore. New Jersey was a breath of fresh air that you never knew you needed, that you never knew you wanted. 

The Rangers may have been your family once upon a time, but the Devils felt more like the word than the former ever had. You felt like you were watching the family of them through a window, and you were starting to realise maybe being on the inside wouldn’t be so bad as you thought. Maybe being in a place where they valued and listened to you wouldn’t be so bad either. 

But New York was all you ever knew, was all you ever thrived in. It was hard to just throw that all away. 

Even if Nico Hischier was making the option of staying very appealing. 

Even when some of the other Devils—the ones that weren’t your biggest fans—felt more welcoming than the boys back in New York. 

Exhibit A: Jesper Bratt. 

Nico had pulled Luke out for the day, saying he needed the boy’s help with a different job. He hadn’t offered to put anyone in Luke’s place. To be honest, you think Luke was only continuing with it because he enjoyed spending time with you too. But it had been Jesper who offered himself into Luke’s role when you had mentioned visiting a few shops in town by yourself. 

It didn’t take a genius to work out he was suspicious of you.

You didn’t take it to heart, not really. He wasn’t going out of his way to make you uncomfortable or wary, but the lingering tension was enough to make you observe him with the same watchful gaze. 

“You don’t like me.” 

Jesper’s eyes flickered to meet yours in the rearview mirror before returning to the road. “I never said that.” 

“You didn’t have to,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s written all over your face. And the extra gun you slipped into your waistband before we left.” 

His cheeks burned a little at your words. 

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “You’re his second-in-command. It’s your job to be wary, to have Nico’s back.” 

Jesper hummed but didn’t say anything right away. 

Instead, a few minutes of silence passed as you two made your way through usual Jersey traffic. The radio was on, but turned on so low that the two of you could barely hear it. The streets were busy, even for a random Thursday afternoon. It was like the world was going on as normal, despite the lingering tension in the car between you and the blond.

“I do like you,” Jesper said eventually. “I just don’t trust you.” 

“Because you think I’m going to betray the Devils?” You guessed. 

“Because I think you are capable of hurting Nico far worse than a gunshot or a knife in the back ever could,” Jesper corrected, seeming to catch the surprise on your face.

“You think I would hurt him?” You questioned, ignoring the way your stomach twisted at the words. Growing up in this life had meant you had seen far worse than a gunshot or a knife in the back, had meant you had done much worse. And yet the idea of any of it being directed towards Nico seemed to leave you on edge and make the hairs on the back of your neck rise.

“I think you are capable of a lot without even realising it,” Jesper answered honestly. 

You didn’t reply to the blond but you wondered if your return to New York would hurt Nico. 

You wondered why it made your chest feel tight and uncomfortable. 

…

“So how did you get the nickname?” 

You blinked out of your thoughts, looking over at Luke who was walking by your side. “What?” 

“Rogue,” he said with a nod, like that was enough of an explanation. “Nicknames stick in this industry. So, where did you…go rogue to get it?”

You let out a small snort of laughter. “How do you not know it’s my actual name?” 

Luke glanced at you, his brows furrowed together. “Is it?” 

“No,” you grinned at him before shrugging. “I don’t know, to be honest. I just…never did well with listening to people’s instructions. It was a nickname my father gave me and I guess it just stuck.” 

“You listened when Trouba sent you here though,” Luke pointed out, unfazed by the glare you sent his way. You assumed that was bound to happen after you spent almost every day with the boy for the last few months or so. He was bound to feel comfortable enough to poke at the uncomfortable subjects.

“Because I’m stubborn not stupid,” you shot back, giving the boy a look. “I value my life.” 

Luke frowned. “You think he would’ve killed you if you didn’t comply?” 

“He’s killed people for less,” you shrugged but noted the way the boy still looked uncomfortable, unsettled even. “He wouldn’t have killed me. I’m too valuable, even if I’m disrespecting him. He probably would’ve just put me on some really shit jobs until his ego was healed.” 

Luke nodded, still looking quite on edge. 

“Luke,” you stopped walking, placing your hand on his arm to catch his attention and make him stop too. Logically, you knew that he was a grown man and he could handle his own emotions. Especially in an industry like this. But another part of you—the part that had spent the last few months with the boy almost every day—felt the need to wipe that frown off his face. “It’s fine now. And it doesn’t matter.” 

“Does it not?” Luke shot back at you. “You’ve been trying your hardest to find a loophole out of here, have you not? But you still want to go back there? Back to him? Even after everything he’s done to you?”

You blinked. 

“I’m young but I’m not stupid,” Luke huffed out, shaking his head as he took a step back. “It’s—whatever. Let’s just go. You said you wanted to check out that shoe store?” 

You took a step forward. “Luke—”

“We should head over now before heading back to the house. We—” He paused before continuing. “I don’t want to be late for dinner.”

…

You didn’t see Luke over the next few days. 

He had sent a brief message about being busy wrapped up in a job Nico gave him, which albeit wasn’t the best excuse but you let him off. You weren’t sure what upset him and you didn’t think poking around and asking more questions would do any favours. So, you let the boy take his space and take his time. 

It was Luke. 

You had no doubts that he would talk to you again when he wasn’t as worked up or upset about the situation. 

But the lack of daily companion left you feeling quite lonely, which was ironic considering you had considered your whole stay in New Jersey to be quite lonely as an outcast. You hadn’t realised just how much you relied on Luke’s company until he wasn’t knocking on your door every morning, convincing you to try some new outrageously overpriced cafe using Nico’s card to pay. 

You broke around the third day, deciding to seek out your own company in the form of your fiancé.

“I was told you would be here.” 

Nico lifted his head, peeking out from under the hood of the car he was currently hunched over. He glanced at you, an expression between surprised and elated as you stood on the opposite side of the garage.

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, glancing around the large garage with eagle eyes. “Apparently this is how you spend your limited free time.”

Nico stood up straight, giving you a full look at the white tank top clinging onto his torso. It was criminal the way wiped his hands on a random rag, his biceps clenching with the movement before he tossed it to the side and gave you his full attention.

“I like fixing up old cars,” Nico said with a shrug, though there was a sense of ease in his posture. “It’s relaxing.” 

You blinked. “Tinkering around with some old metal is calming? Even if you can’t get it running?”

He laughed. “It takes my mind off things.” 

“How…mundane,” you responded, your brows furrowed together as you glanced at the few cars dotted around the garage. You didn’t know enough to know the brands or names of any of them. You didn’t even try to attempt it. 

“Mundane is nice sometimes, especially with the lives we live,” Nico retorted and you were inclined to agree. 

“This still seems stressful though,” you added. 

Nico leaned against the car, arms crossed over his chest like he knew it would snag your gaze. “And what would you recommend I do?” 

“I don’t know, something normal people do to relax,” you shrugged your shoulders. “Like, go on a picnic.” 

Nico paused, staring at you as he tried to fight the grin off his face. “A picnic?” 

“I don’t know!” You threw your hands up in mock surrender. “People do it all the time in movies and shit.”

“What movies are you watching?” Nico laughed, though he seemed to enjoy watching the way you tried to hold back your own amusement. 

“They have picnics in plenty of movies,” you argued back. 

“Alright then,” Nico nodded. “Then we will do it. You and me, tomorrow at twelve.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

“We are gonna have a picnic and be normal,” Nico stated, leaving no room for questions as he reached for the rag once again. “Unless you have some super normal thing you do to take your mind off things to do instead?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Shooting range.”

“That’s what I thought,” he snorted as he flashed you a grin. “Me and you, schatz, at twelve. Don’t be late.” 

…

A small part of you thought Nico was joking about the picnic. 

A larger part of you knew the boy would be knocking on your door by half past eleven, dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie and looking so normal. So unlike the mob boss you know him to be. 

And the white bucket hat on his head was oddly endearing. 

In complete honesty, you hadn’t expected much from the picnic and how seriously the boy would take it. Though, you should have known better when he parked his car, an excited smile on his face as he led you towards the grassy patch in the park where a blanket and wicker basket had been laid out. 

“Oh wow,” you murmured out as you walked towards the scene, his palm warm and guiding on the small of your back. 

“Really fits the movie vibes, huh?” Nico retorted with a knowing smile.

You snorted. “I feel so normal right now.”

“Then my job here is done,” he smiled as he leaned back on the blanket, balanced on his elbows as he looked up at you. 

You were surprised how far he ran with a passive comment. You wondered what it must have looked like to people passing by the two of you, if you looked like a normal couple on a date, enjoying a sweet picnic together. You wondered if it even counted as a date at all. 

It was ironic that the man beside you had been your fiancé for the better part of the last four months and you didn’t know much about him, that neither of you knew each other all that well. 

“What’s your favourite colour?” 

Nico paused, looking up from the small plates he was loading up for the two of you. “My favourite colour?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. 

“Red.”

“Favourite kind of music?” 

“Swiss rap.” 

“Favourite animal?” 

“I don’t think I have one.” 

“Cat person or dog person?” 

“Both.” 

Your nose scrunched up. “You can’t be both. That’s cheating.” 

Nico raised his brows in amusement. “I don’t think I can cheat at a game I don’t know.” 

“Just wanted to know what kind of man I am marrying,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders. 

“Is there where you tell me that being a cat person is your deal breaker?” Nico joked.

Your lips twitched. “It would be something I would have to take into consideration.” 

“Might have to keep some secrets to save my marriage then,” Nico said with a sigh, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiled. You don’t think you had ever noticed that before. It was weird seeing someone in his position show any emotion but intimidation so easily. 

You raised your brows. “Doesn’t everyone have a few skeletons in the closet?” 

“Is this your subtle way of asking me what mine are?” He questioned, pushing the plate towards you. You were surprised to find a few of your favourite snacks on the plate. You wondered if he had bothered Luke or someone else to find out, or if it was a lucky guess.

“Would you tell me if I asked?” You shot back.

“I would tell you anything if you asked,” Nico replied, the playfulness replaced by sincerity that made your brain spiral a little.

“You know,” you tried to laugh it off. “I don’t think many people in this life agree with you there.”

“I’m not them and you’re not their fiancée,” he answered with a shrug. “Who gives a fuck what they think?” 

You looked at him with a mixed expression. “And you’d answer anything I ask you right now?”

He gestured for you to continue. “Try me.”

You tilted your head, taking a few moments to contemplate before you spoke. “Did you know I was going to be the one waiting for you in that room?” 

“I did,” he confirmed with a nod.

“And you had no issues with that?” 

His lips twitched. “Quite the opposite.” 

You shot him a curious look. “And if Jacob had lied to you? If there was someone else in the room?”

“I would have refused the alliance,” he stated simply, like he was reiterating a well-known fact.

You snorted. “Yeah, okay.” 

“I would have,” Nico insisted, his expression remaining dead serious.

Your smile faltered a little. “Nico.” 

“Rogue,” he mocked in the same tone of voice.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” you murmured.

Nico frowned. “Who said I was lying?” 

“You would have refused an alliance that would massively benefit you?” You retorted, your brows furrowed a little. “Don’t be stupid.” 

“Both sides went into that alliance wanting something,” Nico answered with a heavy look in his eyes, one that you couldn’t quite read. “I knew what I wanted and I wasn’t signing shit for anything but that.” 

“And that was me?” You teased because the conversation was getting serious and your heart felt like it was in your throat and you were pretty sure you would lose your mind if Nico kept staring at you with those intense eyes. You were also pretty sure you would lose your mind if he looked away.

“Yes.” 

You blinked, waiting for him to laugh but he didn’t. 

“What?”

“I think you heard me clearly enough the first time,” Nico mused, watching the way a million emotions passed over your face.

“Oh,” was the only response you could come up with. 

“Still don’t believe me?” Nico questioned, something like amusement in his voice. Something quite like a challenge too. Like he was expecting you to call him out on it, like he had been waiting for the chance to prove himself.

“And if I don’t?” You murmured, a little more breathless than you intended.

You watched as his eyes dropped to your lips, lingering for a few moments. “Then I’ll find a way to prove it.” 

You opened your mouth to say something, though you weren’t even sure what. You didn’t know if you were going to beg for him to do it, to prove it. You didn’t know if you were going to tell him to stop playing whatever game he was playing. You didn’t know if you were going to tell him to fuck the vague, elusive chat and to just fucking kiss you already. 

You were pretty sure it was most likely going to be the last option.

But you never got the chance to even utter a word before the loud, high-pitched shrill of a phone broke the moment.

You blinked, quickly glancing away and taking a few moments to ground yourself as Nico quickly sat up on the blanket. He patted his pockets before slipping his phone out, answering it with a slight peeved off look on his face.

However, that quickly changed when the person on the other side of the phone began speaking, the words muffled but the urgent tone was clear even to you.

It took less than a few seconds before Nico was scrambling to get up, abandoning the basket and blanket before he nodded for you to get up too. His hand was a little more pushy as he directed you towards his car, his face serious and almost murderous as he quickly got in the car, racing to turn it on.

“It’s Jack,” was all Nico could mutter out for context before the two of you were racing towards the house.

.

[goaliekisses]

woof juicy news day for us pens fans. not only do we have sidney crosby’s Seduction of kyle dubas, now we have this article on Why Hextall Sucks (and how he pissed off even sidney crosby) + some angsty Geno details that i will only relish now that he’s still with us:

Early last summer, at his spacious home in Montreal, Kris Letang finally saw the document that secured his future in Pittsburgh.

No stranger to the multi-page, standard player contract, this one was particularly special. It was his fourth, and probably his last. It contained specific elements Letang and his agent required. One line read “six years.” Another read “$36.6 million.” The line that Letang really loved?: “full no-movement clause.”

Together, those words recommitted Letang and the Penguins, the only NHL franchise he had ever known. At 35, he would finish his career in Pittsburgh.

As word spread last July 7, Letang’s phone blew up. The flood of well-wishers included teammates past and present, various Penguins personnel he’d befriended over his previous 16 seasons, and family and friends. He took only a few calls. Among them: Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin, his oldest and dearest teammates in Pittsburgh, who were thrilled for him.

Crosby, the Penguins captain and franchise icon, had made it clear to general manager Ron Hextall and president of hockey operations Brian Burke as far back as the 2021 offseason that he wanted the team to re-sign impending free agents Letang and Malkin so the three veterans and lifetime Penguins could take another shot at a Stanley Cup together.

Would Crosby pressure ownership to sign Malkin and Letang? “I’ve never wanted to be GM,” Crosby said. “I think they know how I feel.”

While the negotiations with Letang took longer and were more difficult than expected, Hextall’s discussions with Malkin had turned dark. Only days before the start of free agency last summer, Letang, Crosby and coach Mike Sullivan worked overtime trying to calm Malkin, who was stewing over lowball early contract offers, limited communication with Hextall and veiled public shots from Burke.

“How bad is it?” Letang asked Crosby about the state of Malkin’s emotions and the negotiations.

“Pretty bad,” Crosby said.

Hextall first irritated Malkin late in the 2021-22 season by offering a short-term contract extension to his agent, J.P. Barry. In the offseason that animosity built as weeks passed without a follow-up conversation from Hextall. On June 17, Hextall told Barry that the team’s offer was “take-it-or-leave-it,” and the next day Burke used those words to characterize the negotiations during multiple media interviews. Not surprisingly, Malkin, a sure Hall-of-Famer, went from annoyed to insulted.

For weeks leading up to and after Letang’s deal was finalized, Malkin stewed at home while Crosby, Letang and Sullivan checked in with him from afar. With no deal in sight, Malkin began speaking to his small inner circle as if his time with the Penguins was concluding.

Hextall fielded daily questions from Fenway Sports Group brass about why Malkin hadn’t yet been re-signed. Hextall was also taken aback by the barrage of calls and texts — from Penguins alternate governor Dave Beeston, from Crosby and Sullivan, from president of business operations Kevin Acklin — after reports surfaced that Malkin would test free agency. He told his agent he wanted to “show Hextall and Burke” by trying the open market.

Malkin had joked during the ’21-22 season that he was “a rich guy,” insisting he didn’t need to worry about money on his next contract. He was having a laugh, but was also somewhat serious. He had taken less than market value on two previous deals with the Penguins and expected that trend to continue on his final NHL contract.

He was about to turn 36. He wanted to play until he was 40. He sought a contract with a no-trade clause. But more than money, he needed the Penguins to show they really wanted him, something he felt was lacking, especially from Hextall. By July 11, 2022, Malkin was convinced he’d already practiced in Cranberry for the last time.

After tucking in their son, Nikita, Malkin and his wife, Anna, sat on their leather couch and looked at a summary sheet of Hextall’s latest offer: four seasons, $24.4 million total, a full no-movement clause.

Malkin was fine with what he read. The sticking point was his bruised feelings.

“They not think I good player,” Malkin wrote in a text message to Crosby.

“They not want me,” Malkin texted to Letang, who had stepped up efforts to console Malkin after signing his deal.

Malkin wanted to stay in Pittsburgh, but he no longer trusted either Hextall or Burke. Crosby and Sullivan intervened. Each spent hours on the phone with Malkin as July 11 became July 12. Careful not to tell him what to do, Crosby and Sullivan implored Malkin to “not worry about those guys” — Hextall and Burke — when making a final decision. Letang, too, jumped into the mix. Together, two-thirds of the Big Three and their coach brought up every special moment, funny story and great time they could remember to remind Malkin what they had built in Pittsburgh. Malkin paced from room to room at his condo in Fisher Island, finally beginning to feel wanted again.

As early morning shifted to late afternoon, Malkin had heard enough to make a decision. He called his agent, Barry, with instructions to re-engage with Hextall and take the offer. Upon calling, Barry was surprised to find a receptive Hextall.

After hanging up with Barry, Hextall bragged to his assistant GM, Chris Pryor, and a handful of staffers, that he “got him on my terms — that’s how you negotiate.” Malkin informed Crosby, Letang and Sullivan that he was staying. When talking to Crosby and Letang, Malkin sounded happy for the first time in a long time.

“We win next year,” Malkin told his friends. “Big year get back Cup.”

also these bits 🥺

After McGinn was put on waivers, he played a memorable final game with the Penguins, blocking shots and setting up Crosby for a dramatic tying goal in the third period. In the locker room afterward, his soon-to-be-former teammates named him player of the game, eliciting a massive roar from the group that could be heard through closed doors.

Hextall traded Teddy Blueger during the same trip. In the middle of a dinner with the players’ fathers, arranged by Crosby at Bern’s Steakhouse in Tampa, Blueger learned via social media that he had been dealt to Vegas. He and his dad abruptly left the restaurant. Crosby rushed to console his now former teammate and after a few minutes returned to the dinner. “That’s not how we do things in Pittsburgh,” he said. Crosby remained mostly quiet the rest of the night.

…Long after most of their teammates had left the locker room after the demoralizing 5-2 defeat, the Big Three remained.

Malkin was emotional, his voice rising as he spoke. He had been dreaming of his beloved parents, Natalia and Vladimir, returning to Pittsburgh for another postseason run. Instead, they’d stay in Russia.

Letang, in the adjacent corner of the room, spoke thoughtfully and contemplatively. He had been through hell and back all season, and the Penguins’ loss was another blow.

Then there was Crosby, who sits at the center of an arc of connected lockers. The Penguins captain, with gray hairs that seemed to grow more plentiful throughout the season, sat stoically. After finishing interviews, Crosby sat by himself, staring straight ahead before slowly walking out of the locker room.

sorry need to add the header too because i would totally watch this telenovella

[brokenanxiety]

thoughts i have about luca fantilli as a bf

leaving you little notes for you to find around your place

you will be his passenger princess (this is a non negotiable for him)

always offers to pay when you go out on dates but sometimes he will give in to your arguing and let you pay

luca is sunshine personified and would def go for the quieter girl (he totally believes opposites attract, grumpy x sunshine)

gives you a jersey to wear for his games

if luca is in the nhl when you date (he gives you his umich jersey to wear instead of his nhl team because its more special to him that way)

luca is so great with your family, it def only took one meeting with them to be convinced that he is the perfect guy for you

has a basket in the trunk of his car with things that you like/need just incase you need something while you are out running errands or on a long drive

he has a list in his notes app of all your favorites (what you order at restaurants, favorite chips, favorite brands, collectibles that you like)

is definitely the type of boyfriend that has pic of the two of you in his wallet

always asks you to help him with his tie, even though he knows how to tie it himself

luca is def an acts of service and physical touch boyfriend

luca is not afraid to use his puppy dog eyes to get you to do something

he is definitely the talkative one in the relationship

luca always needs to be touching you when you are out (holding hands, hands on the small of your back, hands on your thigh in the car)

[grantmentis]

A lot of women’s hockey news and I wouldn’t be able to fit everything into screenshots so here is a summary

Most of these from Angélica Rodriguez, Erica Ayala, and Anne Tokarski’s twitter threads

-league looking to start in January, can go as late as may/June

-this year will be shorter and 24 games but should be 32 going forward. In future years season will start in November

-no team names or logos yet

-15 round draft, with a draft lottery, to determine who picks when, and then will be snake format.

-each team can sign 3 players before the draft, and then can fill out the rest in free agency after the draft

-players have until Sept 3 to declare for the draft on Sept 18 in Toronto

-rights of players are held on to for two years after draft, then they can re-enter the draft but the maximum amount of times they can be drafted is twice

-players can be traded this season, draft picks cannot be but will be starting next year

-players pool is 300~ players right now for who’s being contacted but players outside that pool can still declare for draft and aren’t necessarily uneligible

-the league has no plans to do a franchise model and right now mark and Kimbra Walter are the sole investors

-no rinks decided yet for games or practices it seems and multiple rinks may be in play in markets at least for this season. Says it’s possible New York team will actually play in jersey or Connecticut for some games. Nhl collaboration expected and wild writer Michael Russo says xcel energy center expected to be used. AHL and OHL rinks also considered

-no news on streaming but goal is to have all teams streamed

-transgender inclusion policy is being worked on but no collaboration plans with other orgs who specialize in trans rights were stated

-players may submit a Compassionate Circumstance Waiver Request that if the league approves allows them to be considered to only play in one specific market. The team(s) in that market would be the only ones allowed to negotiate a deal but wouldn’t be obligated to sign that player. (Not clear what would be required for that waiver to be approved but I imagine it may be in the CBA)

-CBA is here https://global-uploads.webflow.com/64d22f9c3617ad42d10d32f1/64ed721629f3b2cfe84c7a54_PWHL-CBA-thpwhlcom.pdf (I would like to summarize this as well when I am off work)

-11-13 full time staff for teams not including front office members

[malk1ns]

Geno having slutty summer antics and Sid wanting to hear about them but also getting jealous/possessive? or talking about sex in a bro way that leads to 🔥🔥🔥

Sid really, really should not be doing this.

The negotiations between the owners and the PA are tenuous enough after the last mediator got canned. Sid's not even a union rep, not officially, but every time he's missed a meeting in the past because he had something else going on it felt like the entire hockey world went into a panicked spiral that the lockout would never end.

If he's caught flying to Russia? May as well cancel the entire season, at the one after while you're at it. Sidney Crosby defecting to the K means it's over, don't even bother trying anymore.

Sid slumps down into his seat and tugs his hat further over his eyes. He'd managed to hide in the lounge right up until boarding, and so far he doesn't think he's been spotted.

He packed his Kindle, hoping to read himself to sleep once they left New York. Instead, though, the Kindle is sitting on the empty seat next to him, and he's scrolling on his phone.

Thankfully wifi for first-class international flights are free.

Sid's kept in touch with all the guys who have scattered to try and play while the NHL is at a standstill. He doesn't hold it against anyone; if he had the choice, he'd be on the ice somewhere too. Between the hurdle of getting himself insured internationally and the clamor of the press for him to stay involved in negotiations, though, it just hasn't worked out.

He wonders how long until Pat realizes he's left the country and starts calling.

Really, though, it's not Sid's fault.

He and Geno had left things open, when Geno called to tell Sid he'd be going home to play until the NHL got its shit figured out. Sid hadn't wanted to hold Geno back from enjoying his time home, and he didn't think he'd have the free time required for the maintenance and upkeep of an extreme long-distance relationship; it would be easier for both of them to do their own thing until they were back in the same city.

It only took about a month for Sid to regret it.

Geno's regular Instagram was bad enough, but the private one he set up a few weeks into his contract in Magnitogorsk was even worse. Picture after picture of him out at clubs, dressed like Sid's never seen him in North America, draped over guys who have their hands all over him—and that's nothing compared to the stories he's sharing in the team chat when the guys razz him for dressing like a slutty club rat.

From the sounds of it, Geno's doing just as much damage to the club scene as he is his hometown team's points records. There's only so much bragging that Sid can be expected to endure.

The flight to Moscow is torturously long, and the airport is a dizzying array of unintelligible signs and fumbling through customs until he finds the ride he'd pre-arranged. His hotel room is blessedly silent, and Sid sleeps for a solid ten hours as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Geno's team is in town for a week and a half. The K's schedule is more relaxed than the NHL's, with plenty of days to relax built in after long flights. Geno's clearly been taking advantage of the downtime.

It only took a few phone calls to secure a suite to watch Metallurg take on Dynamo Moscow. Geno's hockey is as good as it's ever been, maybe better as he shows off in his hometown colors, and Sid watches him like a hawk, wishing he was sitting behind the bench where he'd be able to watch the sweat drip down the back of his neck.

The hallways here are a maze, but hockey arenas are the same everywhere, and Sid leans against the wall across from the visitor's locker room, clearing out missed calls and frantic texts as he waits.

Geno's one of the last ones out; not like he is in Pittsburgh, but then again, in Pittsburgh he's never left a game dressed like this.

Sid takes a minute to eye up his skintight jeans artfully torn at the thighs, and the short-sleeve shirt with some reflective design painted on it, then steps forward and grabs Geno's arm, yanking him down a side hallway he'd found earlier.

"Sid?" Geno sounds shocked, and Sid takes advantage of his confusion to back him up against the wall. "Sid, you're here—why? What's happen?"

Sid gets his hands on Geno's ass and squeezes. Geno yelps, but he reflexively pushes his hips forward. "I came to see you," he says, putting his lips to Geno's ear and nipping at his neck. "I wanted to get a piece of what you've been throwing at every big guy with a fancy wristwatch you've run into since you got here. Is that a problem?"

Geno whimpers, leaning back and sliding down the wall a little as he opens his legs.

"You're such a slut," Sid says fondly, reaching down and groping Geno's dick through his pants. He's already half-hard and Sid hasn't done anything more than manhandle him a little bit. "Thought I should come over and get mine before you're all used up. Do you have a curfew?"

"No," Geno gasps as Sid squeezes too hard over his shaft. "I'm go out tonight with Sanja, stay with him maybe, it's off day tomorrow."

Sid grinds his teeth. "You're not going home with Ovechkin," he says, stepping back and pulling Geno after him. "I've got a room down the road. If you're lucky, I'll let you out of bed before anyone thinks to come looking for you."

They probably get spotted on the way out. Geno's not exactly inconspicuous in his club clothes, and Sid didn't make any effort to be discreet.

Fuck it. He'll deal with the fallout later, once he's reminded Geno who he belongs to.

[misshoneyimhome]

Hello lovely!! Hope you had a fab time at the game🥰

I have been thinking a lot about our lil slutty Willy interview and have some thoughts swirling…I love a good oblivious Will and that’s why it cracks me up that he said he’ll know when he finds someone worth spending time on! My thought is you and Will have decided not to label anything, started as friends then FWB, but now you’re towing the line of needing to have that what do we want conversion. Then Will does that interview in Sweden and with all the media you start believing that it is in fact a one sided thing plus he’s obviously coming back even more famous, the thought of him wanting you is laughable so you distance yourself - as he said himself, if he found someone he wanted to be with he would know. So Will gets back from the long roadie to your belongings removed from his apartment and it kills him to know you’re hurt by him and your presence in the flat gone, at the next game some of the other WAGs give it to him and it sparks some realization about his words and there’s some feelings he that need to be expressed so he doesn’t lose you so he immediately sets off to your place post game…

Oh bb, thank you, it was so amazing! I absolutely love it 🥰 omg, oblivious!Willy is one of my favourites - and your idea… absolutely mad for it! Let’s face it, Willy’s the most adorable manly man, but he might not always be the sharpest when it comes to feelings - especially his own (I of course have no idea, I don't know him, and this is obv all in my head) 😉 So, of course I had to write a piece, and I really hope you enjoy reading it, as much as I did writing it ❤️

➼｡ﾟ

I Needed To Lose You To Love Me I William Nylander

William Andrew Michael Junior Nylander Altelius - the handsome Swedish lad with multiple names and an incredible talent for hockey.

There he was, flashing a massive grin on his stunning face while casually appearing on a Swedish talk show during the Global Series tour, where the team had been fortunate to play two NHL games in William's hometown: Stockholm.

You couldn't help but smile to yourself, hearing his laughter and noticing his effortlessly cool choice of attire: a white tank top that accentuated his toned torso and showcased his sculpted arms, almost resembling an ideal Ken doll. Oh, the audacity he had to look like that, you thought. If you hadn't had the privilege of touching and feeling his skin and physique, you'd think he was photoshopped.

Yet, despite the pleasant sight of the Swedish hockey star on TV, a tight knot formed in your stomach.

_

Several months back, you and William had transitioned your cherished friendship into something more.

It wasn't initially the plan, but amid the laughter, playful teasing, and banter that sometimes pushed boundaries, it was impossible to ignore the subtle flirtation and electric chemistry between you.

You both had a deep understanding of each other, and with your bond quickly evolving into a close relationship, it came as no shock when you eventually gave in to the enticing temptations and ended up spending a night together. One of many to follow.

And without a doubt, there were no regrets about it.

William wasn't just the most stunning and attractive man with his Greek god-like physique that you'd ever been intimate with; he was also the most attentive and considerate person during sex.

His primary goal was always to ensure your pleasure came first before his own – a non-negotiable rule. Rule number two: if he had the chance to make you reach several orgasms, he'd eagerly pursue it. And as for rule number three, no surface was off-limits for a passionate session. Though it all began in the bedroom, after a couple of months, nearly every available flat surface in both your homes had felt the touch of your skin. And the back seats of his car. Even one time, you almost did it at the rink, but strange noises had interrupted, and you’d decided it was too risky. And lastly, rule number four, arguably the most crucial – there was no room for shame.

Never once did William make you feel self-conscious about your body or anything else. He consistently praised your curvy figure, mentioning the elegance and strength of your legs, complimenting your soft skin, and offering sweet words about your captivating eyes and inviting lips. Even on your most challenging days, William had the knack for making you feel like the goddess he truly believed you were.

God, that Swede sure had a way with words.

But as much as you loved him for it, there was an equal measure of frustration building up within you.

What had started as a close-knit friendship with mind-blowing, no-strings-attached sex was beginning to stir up other emotions. Despite the mutual understanding that both of you had repeatedly mentioned – how comfortable it was to have a close relationship without defining it – you couldn't shake off what it had become.

You spent so much time together that your connection almost naturally transformed into something akin to a relationship. Yet, it never quite crossed that line.

Despite your unwavering support for him after every game, win or lose, staying over at his place several days a week, talking on the phone while he was on the road, the relationship between you seemed to stall, never progressing beyond its current state.

And one day, you realised you had to address the issue head-on.

Though you understood the risk involved – what if William didn't share the same thoughts? Yet, you also acknowledged that avoiding the topic wasn't the solution. You needed clarity about what this was between you and what aspirations, if any, you shared for its future.

You tried once to bring it up.

Softly and tentatively, you had asked, "Hey Willy, do you think maybe we should have a talk about this?"

"What talk?" he replied, clearly unaware of what you meant.

"You know, about where we're at and what we mean to each other?"

"I thought we agreed not to label anything?"

He gave you a puzzled look. There was no anger, annoyance, nor rejection in his expression. The thought just merely hadn't occurred to him.

Feeling disheartened, you withdrew your intentions.

"Oh... yeah, right. Forget I said anything."

And so, once again, you found yourself in emotional turmoil.

So tonight, watching the TV show was definitely emotionally draining.

Throughout this tour, you couldn't help but notice the immense attention William was receiving, and it became increasingly evident how much more famous he would become upon the team's return to Toronto.

Though, you'd always admired how effortlessly grounded and laid-back William remained, the nagging thought persisted that this newfound attention might alter things for him, and perhaps between the two of you.

The mere idea of confessing your deep feelings for him felt almost comical. How could he ever feel the same for you when he was who he was? With everyone competing for his attention, why would he choose you?

And as your mind grappled with its own conclusions, William's words tipped you over the edge when he was questioned about seeking a relationship.

"I'm not actively seeking one at the moment. I'm fully focused on the season ahead. It's a big year, and my attention is solely on that part. When the right person comes, it just happens and I’ll know; it's not something I'm stressing about."

‘When the right person comes.’

Right person.

Those words hit you hard, sinking your heart deep into your chest. You felt a sharp pang, your veins constricted, and your throat tightened.

In that very moment, it became painfully clear – you weren't the right person for him.

_

The Leafs had a fantastic run in Sweden during their Global tour, and naturally, you were ecstatic on their behalf.

However, after hearing William's remarks during the talk show, you made a decision to take a step back and give the both of you some space.

Besides, if he wanted more from your relationship, he would have shown it by now – right?

So, while the team was away on a roadie, you took the opportunity to gather all the items you'd left at his place over the time you spent together. Your clothes in the drawer, bathroom essentials, the line-up of shoes in the hallway – all your belongings.

You chose to create some distance, minimising contact to nearly nothing, allowing him to focus on hockey and whatever else he needed. Simultaneously, it gave you the opportunity to take care of your feelings and your own well-being.

However, your sudden lack of communication didn't escape notice, especially not when William walked into his condo and immediately sensed something was missing.

His bathroom now appeared empty without your items occupying space on the counter. The absence of laundry piled next to the bed, a discussion you'd previously had about who would take care of it, was noticeable. His fridge and snack cupboard stood empty since you hadn't restocked them.

In essence, every little hint of your presence was gone.

William immediately sensed that you were hurt. He knew you well enough to recognise that whenever you felt hurt, you tended to withdraw and focus on sorting through your thoughts.

However, he wasn't entirely certain what had caused it.

Suddenly, all your regular interactions – snapping, texting, sharing Instagram reels, and worst of all, the phone calls – were missing. He hadn't heard from you in almost a week, and he started to worry.

Moreover, he deeply missed you.

It wasn't just the fun you shared; he missed his dear friend and the person he looked forward to seeing at his home. The one he always yearned for after every road trip, the person he longed to touch, kiss, and hold in his arms. You were the one he could open up to about anything, from the highs and lows of hockey to personal talks about his family.

However, you weren’t there.

Understanding your need to seek space when something troubled you, William also maintained his distance. He didn't want to disrupt your need for peace and solitude, yet his thoughts were consumed by the question; what had happened during the tour to prompt your current behaviour?

In fact, he thought about it for the following days, until the next home game against the Panthers.

The game itself ended on a high note with a 2-1 victory, and William had a stellar performance, scoring a goal and adding an assist.

However, despite the positive outcome, his thoughts were elsewhere. You were still absent, not there to cheer alongside the wives and girlfriends as you typically would.

After the game, he still found himself unable to comprehend your behaviour, and as the players exited the locker room to meet their partners just outside, Stephanie couldn't help but notice the distant look in William's gaze.

However, when she asked him about the situation, he was utterly clueless, prompting her to let out a light chuckle.

"You really don't know, do you?” Stephanie offered him a friendly smile.

"What do you mean?" William remained completely unaware.

"She likes you, you dumbass,” Tessa chimed in with a laugh.

"What?"

"Yeah, she's totally into you... can't you see that?" Stephanie explained.

"No... I mean, maybe - I don't know..." William was bewildered.

Sure, you had mentioned something about discussing your relationship, but hadn't you both agreed a long time ago not to label anything? Or had things evolved without either of you realising it?

"Come on, man, she's crazy about you - and let's be real, you're head over heels for her too," Mitch chuckled in agreement.

"But then why distance hersself like this? She's been avoiding me for days…" William questioned, genuinely puzzled.

"Well, maybe it has something to do with what you said on that Swedish talk show - that you weren't seeking a relationship and that if you had met the right person, you'd already know," Stephanie explained, her tone hinting at the underlying issue.

The gears in William's mind were spinning rapidly.

"So, what she heard was…" Tessa tried to drop yet another hint.

"…that I wasn't interested in her because… I would already know," William breathed out heavily.

How could he have been so oblivious?

All this time, you had had feelings for him, wanting more from your relationship, and he hadn't picked up on it.

Moreover, by saying those things, he had inadvertently pushed you away, which explained your recent distance.

It all started to make sense.

William could feel his heart pounding as he dwelled on thoughts of you. He realised just how much he missed you and how deeply he longed to have you close to him. No, he simply couldn't afford to lose you like this. And he knew he had to do something.

"Fuck..." he muttered under his breath before hastily gathering his belongings and practically storming out of the arena.

_

Across the city, you had watched the game alone at home, still grappling with your heartache. And to lift your spirits, you pampered yourself with an indulgent at-home spa and self-care day.

While relaxing on your sofa with your favourite snacks and drinks, you attempted to distract yourself by watching your favourite comedy TV show. However, just as the episode was hitting its peak, it was abruptly interrupted by insistent knocking at your front door.

Despite not feeling up to seeing anyone at that moment, curiosity got the better of you, and with each successive knock, you reluctantly dragged yourself up from the sofa and walked steadily towards the door.

Swinging it open, your eyes widened in surprise as you found William standing there, slightly leaning against the door frame with one arm.

There was a moment of pausing between you, with you being taken aback by his unexpected appearance and William grappling to find the right words.

This was his moment to express his true feelings, to keep you from slipping away. However, before he could gather his thoughts, you broke the silence.

"Willy, what are you doing here?" Your voice quivered slightly, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, as you struggled to contain your emotions.

William's expression portrayed nothing but sincerity and concern, his eyes showing genuine worry as he gently parted his lips to respond.

"I... I can't lose you," he whispered almost inaudibly.

"Willy..."

Interrupting you, he took a step closer, gently cupping your cheeks with his large hands as he drew nearer, your breaths mingling despite the difference in height.

He stood there, pulling you close, your gazes locking in a deep blue ocean.

"I'm sorry, I fucked up – I... I want you. I want us to be more than just friends."

"But you said –"

"I know what I said – but I was an idiot... I was too blind to see that you were right here, in front of me... y/n, you're everything I've ever wanted."

Initially hesitant to trust his words, as he continued to hold you tightly, showing no indication to let go, you began to believe in the sincerity behind his words.

Your eyes darted around, seeking any signs of dishonesty, but as they remained locked onto his, you found no trace of falsehood.

William was speaking the truth from his heart, and you wholeheartedly believed him.

In that moment, the only thing left to do was to lean up, meeting him halfway. Closing the distance between you, you connected your lips in a heartfelt moment filled with love.

[hopetorun]

i'd love to hear your beliefs about the tension in their relationship because i'm a very nosy bitch but obviously only if you feel like it!

lol well i did offer! beliefs is a strong word, tbh. more of a like ... is this stuff true? i don't know. but if i were writing a story where i wanted to have tension in that relationship, these are the places i would be inclined to introduce that tension. maybe there is tension in some of these places in real life! that's none of my beeswax.*

anyway: some places i think it is plausible that there's tension in the relationship, or at least plausible enough to play with in fiction. receipts on these where i can find them, sorry if they're paywalled but them's the breaks.

*unless they make it part of their public narrative

back in 2022 matthew was on the athletic hockey podcast and he talked about feeling "like a babysitter" when keith visits and how much keith enjoys being one of the guys. now mostly i think they probably have a pretty good time, but babysitter is a word choice there. i don't think it's a stretch to imagine that having your retired dad show up at your workplace and becoming the life of the party to relive his glory days could be ... trying.

not to beat around the bush but they're both opinionated guys! opinionated and chatty! and as a result you get: keith slamming the panthers on the radio. matthew sticking his nose into brady's contract negotiations (brady being grimace emoji about it). like, we know for a fact that the radio thing bothered matthew! and there's plenty of opportunities for one or both of them to offer unsolicited opinions that don't go over well.

to the previous point: i considered not including that because it's not as speculative as the others on the list. but it's definitely something i'd draw on if i was writing a story where their relationship is tense.

look, i'm not a man and not only am i not a man but i don't have any brothers and my dad died four and a half years ago and he never talked about his dad. so i can't claim to be an expert on the fathers-and-sons relationship dynamic. but why would i let that stop me from speculating wildly!

anyway: legacies. oldest sons. expectations. @ohtemporas touched on this briefly earlier, the way there's often an extra pressure on the oldest kid to be the same-gender-parent's legacy. do what i did. represent me well in the world. and i don't think it's even particularly weird for that to potentially lead to some conflicting feelings if all that legacy building leads to you being surpassed in some way. that's just human! especially for competitive people, and as i have said on this website before: no one becomes a professional athlete without being competitive.

here's keith being presented with matthew's 99th point puck from the 21-22 season, which his then-teammate did up with the writing for this specific purpose. chantal thinks this is SO funny. do think maybe being conflicted about being surpassed makes him not proud of matthew? no. but people can be complicated.

speaking of people being complicated: that one post-game after matthew scored 5 points on the blues. i think the tension between keith wanting his own team's success and wanting his sons' success isn't something people were making up out of whole cloth. but maybe it was especially noticeable when matthew was still in the western conference? i feel like it got dialed back after the trade. lol.

i'm mentioning it only because otherwise someone else might: i don't care about the hat thing. i think it's silly. if i was asked to throw my favorite hat onto the ice at an nhl game just because some schlub scored three goals i probably wouldn't.

a few concluding thoughts

i don't think any of this means they have a bad relationship! mostly i think that no two people have a perfect relationship where they agree on everything and never butt into each other's business uninvited and never hurt each other's feelings, because that's impossible.

i'm not making some counterpoint list of all the reasons i think they love each other. someone else can. i don't think having high expectations of someone means you hate them and i don't think anyone spends their time and money following their son's hockey team around the country on a road trip hoping to see him score his 100th point out of hatred or spite.

maybe i'm wrong about all of this and they've hated each other since 2002 and someday we'll get a tell-all story and people can come into my ask box or whatever and tell me how wrong i was. i don't care. all rpf characterization is fake. i watched keith froth at the mouth in the stands at the 2016 wjc every time someone so much as breathed on matthew, though, so i don't think i'm wrong.

[sergeifyodorov]

plz share the willy xenophobia discussion at your leisure i would love to read about it

Right. So.

Willy was drafted in 2014, a top-ten pick with legacy pedigree, and unlike the other two in Toronto's Big Three, took a little longer to develop -- Marner spent his D+1 in the OHL before coming up, Matthews made the team right away, but Willy spent time in the SHL and about a year and a half in the Marlies before joining at the end of the 15-16 season, after Marner was drafted but before Matthews was. Needless to say, expectations of him weren't quite as high, but he was firmly expected to be part of the Big Rebuild, too.

He's also Swedish. The first Europeans in the NHL were Swedish, and to this day the highest proportion of non-North Americans is Swedish. However, in order to understand the Swedes, we have to talk about the Russians.

The 1972 Summit Series is probably the most important single event in the history of hockey -- eight games, the first true best-on-best in the world, since the NHL and the Olympics have always had a fraught relationship and they weren't allowed to attend. If we really wanted to talk about the Summit Series, we could be here for years, but, the point: on this particular world stage, it was finally understood that Europeans -- Russians, but everyone else, too -- played a different style of hockey, one that emphasized a side-to-side possession-based game instead of the Canadian dump-and-chase style. The Euro style involves far less checking. And less fighting.

North American (largely Canadian, but nonetheless) hockey has always had a culture of hypermasculinity around it, and this relative lack of violence, as well as pre-existing stereotypes of the time, gave the impression that Europeans were "soft."

Back to Willy. Go back to look at draft-era Willy, before he learns how to grow facial hair -- not Mitch's baby face, but not Auston's full-grown jawline. A layer of puppy fat that disguises all but the most defined of his muscles. Silky blond hair and a dopey smile. He dresses expensively, breaks into fits of giggles in interviews, doesn't seem to take anything as seriously as he should. Because this is Toronto, and we feel as if we are about to enter a new golden age, we expect the most out of our prospects -- solemnity, hard work, not a flaxen-haired nepotist idiot. Especially not a soft flaxen-haired nepotist idiot.

Willy Nylander, raised and trained on a different continent, doesn't hit much, preferring to carry his puck in than dump it. He's speedy, patient with a shot, would rather make a dangerous chance than one through three lanes of traffic. He doesn't fight, doesn't get mad, scores less when the team's really going, and he held out to the last possible moment in his RFA negotiations. Every single one of these drives people mad -- people here trailing all after Don Cherry.

If you're not familiar with Don Cherry, imagine the worst Leafs uncle you could possibly realize, give him opinions of similar attitude on the rest of the NHL, and then understand that he had a national platform for decades. Cherry, fervent nationalist that he is, touted the "tough" Canadian forechecking style, adored players who would walk off injuries -- never mind their lives afterwards -- and once expressed his disdain for visors (you know, the thing that... protects your eyes... and a lot of your face...) by saying that only the Europeans and Francophones liked them. (He also got kicked off of Hockey Night in Canada for anti-immigrant statements. Yee haw.)

Cherry hated Nylander the entire time, explicitly citing his Swedishness (and implying a lack of toughness, or winning quality, which he equated) as a reason that the Leafs would never win with him. Here's an article from right around draft day with Cherry's opinion -- he says the Leafs, should they choose to contend, should forgo Europeans and instead take Canadians. He also cites Ritchie's high penalty-minute count as a valuable item. (I don't know about you, but generally I think regularly putting your team on the penalty kill is a detriment, not a strength).

Furthermore, there's a poll at the end of this article asking the reader if they think Cherry was right. Most people think he was. He was hugely popular not only because he was a charismatic figure (I keep talking about him as if he's dead; he's not, just no longer working) but because his ideas were popular. People believed, and still very much do, that Swedishness is softness and that softness is bad. And as -- as a Leaf -- arguably one of the most visible Swedes in the NHL, one of those tasked with shouldering the weight of the most known franchise, Willy bore a lot of it.

I think part of the reason I didn't mention it in the original post was because unlike Mitch, Willy doesn't seem to let it get to him a lot -- he's a blissfully oblivious Barbie-doll idiot -- and, again, because expectations on him weren't quite as high. That being said, it's still important to discuss imho !

[crosby-interesting]

To much chagrin of NHL PR department, Russian media have already leaked the real reasons Nichushkin went to player assistance program. In the January of the 2024, it was alcohol, and in the playoff series with Dallas it was what was described as a "party drug". If you ever wondered how did Nichushkin's sudden spike in productivity happen - for a while he was the top goal scorer in the playoffs, period, even above McDavid - the answer is probably, unfortunately, coke. In Seattle 2023, Nichushkin took a break from the playoff series with Kraken to party with his "friends". The consequences of the partying were so severe the team had to fly him to Denver the very next day, leaving behind a sex worker who was so drunk and high she couldn't even walk on her own. Notably, she was a Ukrainian, which likely means Nichushkin specifically requested a prostitute that spoke Russian. What were the things he was discussing with her is unknown.

The team had covered it up. Later, a Russian "journalist" and a self-described "close friend" (really a hired agent acting as a spokesperson) revealed that Nichushkin's player assistance stint happened because he had "insomnia" due to his "circadian rhythms" getting messed up due to the birth of his baby daughter. Now, if you think it makes no fucking sense, you are hardly alone. But it's hard to justify a player getting into assistance program, especially if it becomes a regular occurrence. Patrik Laine's official story was that he was addicted to the video games, for fuck's sake.

Here's food for thought: cocaine is not considered to be a "forbidden substance" by the NHL. Player's union, the NHLPA, specifically demanded this during the negotiations of the collective bargaining agreement. The other thing that was demanded? Player assistance program, bundled with the stringent requirements for anonymity and privacy. You aren't allowed to state the reason for participation, unless the player reveals it himself.

Many players are forgiven for drug addiction A person becomes highly effective on the ice and obedient in life But this slowly kills them and their reputations And as for me, it is unacceptable for guys high on drugs to play such a dangerous and conflict-ridden sport, it is dangerous Of course, they give funny interviews and show all sorts of unusual things on the ice, but one day it will end in tragedy

Cocaine must be recognized as doping

[naanima]

Matthew's interview starts around the 35mins mark. But the whole thing is sort of fun to watch. Falling asleep as I type.

His left hand shakes, more like a hold to kiss the knuckles. URGH. I know he is hurt but I'm having flashbacks of him & Gaudreau.

Scottie was so gentle with him. Soft touching and softer voice. URGH. YES. TOUCH HIS CURLS & BACK FOR ME.

He looked so good. If you are letting your back curls fly, can we also negotiate about the top half?!?! PLEASE!!!

[annieqattheperipheral]

CAN. NOT. WAIT FOR THE NOVEMBER WILLY CONTENT. NYLANDER FAM INCOMING

Every Swedish player has said so far, "I'm either going to be playing that game for free or at a loss."

William Nylander Talks Contract Negotiations, Maple Leafs New Signings | 32 Thoughts // Aug 24, 2023

2023 NHL Global Series // Avicii Arena, Stockholm, Sweden

Each team will play two regular-season games:

Thursday, November 16 - 20:00 CET / 2:00 PM EST

Detroit Red Wings vs Ottawa Senators

Friday, November 17 - 20:00 CET / 2:00 PM EST

Toronto Maple Leafs vs Detroit Red Wings

Saturday, November 18 - 17:00 CET / 11:00 AM EST

Minnesota Wild vs Ottawa Senators

Sunday, November 19 - 14:00 CET / 8:00 AM EST

Toronto Maple Leafs vs Minnesota Wild

[puckgoss]

why tf is trevor posting on his story with professional photos is he getting traded?!?!

i don't have insider access to the ducks org so this is just my opinion, but... yeah. i think the writing is on the wall here.

#1 : in a recent column, elliotte friedman (most important NHL reporter/insider) wrote:

"Zegras finished with eight points in the last 10 games. This is probably the most fascinating summer decision in the NHL. The Ducks challenged him to show them something when he returned from injury and Zegras did.

But, there’s a nagging sense not everyone’s comfortable with each other here. GM Pat Verbeek is very guarded so it is hard to properly predict what will occur. Anaheim’s got so many good young players who gained great experience."

if elliotte is reporting that "there's a nagging sense not everyone's comfortable with each other here"... that's a big deal. he has one of the biggest platforms in the NHL and he doesn't just say things like that lightly.

during trevor and jamie's contract negotiations in the late summer/early fall, elliotte said on the 32 thoughs podcast that verbeek is a "little ball of hate" and that he has to be careful as he could permanently damage relationships with these players

following that - trevor and jamie were faded out of the ducks media (not nearly as prominent as they used to be), jamie was then traded in january, and there have been constant trade rumors surrounding trevor all season

it's been reported by elliotte and others numerous times that verbeek wanted trevor to learn how to change his playing style/game

#2: during his break up day interview, verbeek stated that he is looking to add a top-4 right-shot defenseman and a top-six right-shot forward this off-season.

it's all well and good to add these players via UFA (meaning you don't have to trade for them), but there aren't many of them available this year, and there's no guarantee that they'll want to sign with the ducks.

additionally, players available in free agency are 27+ years old and are looking for a big money contract - usually with at least 4 years of term

top-4 D and top-6 forward players available via trade are likely to be 24+ (teams don't typically like to trade younger top-6 guys away). this means that if they're restricted free agents, they will need a new contract in a year or two, and will be looking for a big pay day

the ducks might have cap space now, but they'll need to re-sign their aforementioned "so many young good players" eventually (it comes at you fast), so they can't necessarily go crazy with acquiring super expensive guys through trade/free agency without shedding salary elsewhere

#3: as i've written on here before - post 1, post 2 - trevor might not have a clear spot in their depth chart/roster anymore, he's not necessarily a "pat verbeek" type of player, etc.

trevor is a top-six left-shot center who happens to... not play very well on the wing...

to acquire assets in a position of need, you will typically need to give up assets from a position of strength (left-shot center)

#4: yesterday he posted a bunch of pics to insta showing his close relationships with ducks players, including many of the young core/rookies (carlsson, dostal, zellweger). mctavish not included but it's already common knowledge that they're good buds.

in my mind this could be him trying to get ahead of potential "he causes issues in the locker room" type accusations if he does get traded - trying to preemptively prove any rumors that come out about that to be false

a couple weeks ago, cronin said this about trevor:

"Here's a guy that's attractive. The media likes him. The NHL likes him. Whatever those sports games they play, he's on the cover of that. He's a very sociable, likable kid, bounces around. He's like a butterfly, talks to everyone in the locker room. So, those qualities to me, when you draw that attention, you need to take that attention and convert it into some leadership. And if you frame that leadership around being great and trying to be excellent every shift, then you're in a win-win situation.

But if you sabotage that by whether you take foolish penalties or you turn pucks over multiple times and end up changing the momentum in the game, then you have to own up to that too. It's been a process with him but I do think-anybody that draws attention, there's an opportunity for those people to create an image and a standard for the team and if they don't do it, they're missing out on, again, going back to creating a non-negotiable standard and I've talked to Z about that and it's up to him to actually execute that."

that's the organization saying he's not living up to their standards for leadership - i can see him trying to show that he's well-liked despite the spin the org. might try to put on things

#5: today's IG stories

these give me "i've been happy here but i know the end is coming" vibes. i just really think he wants to show his side of the story while not being able to actually come out and say anything

again - this is all just my opinion, i could be completely wrong, and NHL teams can make moves out of nowhere sometimes, and use misdirection to assist with their negotiating

but... many legit hockey outlets have been talking about this (maybe not the IG stories part lol) for weeks...

sorry for the essay - i enjoy talking about this aspect of things as u all know

[exhuastedpigeon]

WIP Tag Game

tagged by @devirnis @tizniz @actualalligator :)

Rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips.

Here's what's in my Buddie WIP folder:

Base on Balls (baseball AU)

Beer league

Boyband reunion

Buck gets a girlfriend

Buddie threesome

Fake dating

Can't spell bitchy without bi

Decked in white

Easy as lovers go

Eddie coma

Ghost hunters

High school reunion

I'll do it myself

I'll show you magic

Make this house a home

non-negotiable

NHL AU

scratch on the moon, like a familiar smile

Show me devotion

You never touched me but I felt you everywhere

Your face is a map of the world

No pressure tagging @malewifediaz @puppyboybuckley @spagheddiediaz @eddiebabygirldiaz @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @acountrygirlsfun @rosieposiepuddingnpie @loserdiaz @elvensorceress @buddierights @fortheloveofbuddie @diazsdimples @rainbow-nerdss @wikiangela @cal-daisies-and-briars @wildlife4life @daffi-990 @spotsandsocks and anyone else who wants to share!

[polarnachtsblog]

Roughing

A Jalec hockey AU written for @fandomidiot and this year's Jalec Secret Santa run by @jalecsquad!

Words: 10k Rating: E Pairing: Jalec Tags: Hockey AU, D/s elements, Dom&Top Alec Lightwood, Sub&Bottom Jace, Rivals to Lovers, Feelings Realizations, rough sex, finger sucking, slapping, under-negotiated kink, after care, happy ending Summary: As Alec is one of the best hockey players in the NHL, he gets nominated to play during the All Star Game, together with his rival Jace Herondale. After Alec cannot help but voice his less than stellar opinion about Jace in a press conference, things get heated – on and off the ice.

The sound of a lung constricting, when the air was being pushed out until the opponent gasped or grunted when you checked him into the boards was one of the most satisfying sounds in the world. It was better than the crunch of fresh ice when your skate hit it for the first time. It might be even better than the sound of sex, the breathy moans Alec was never sure were real. This was real, and it was music to his ears.

Read more on AO3